#also i can name names but if you've played among us with me you know for a fact i could not murder anyone jfnsnfndn

[theogonize]

youngest intern in the history of ppth's oncology. thats you.

"you're still here?" wilson calls out to the void seemingly. your head peaks out from the crowded shelves of the lab to give him a nod.

oh this is bad.

this is not what you need. you dont need you're hot boss to distract you when you're trying to conduct some tests he asked you to. especially not when you haven't slept in 2 days and have had copious amounts of coffee in your system making you jittery. you dont need him to increase your heart rate to the point where your capillaries explode. oh you're gonna fuck up somehow. you're tell him you like him. because lord knows you do. your boss. you have a silly schoolgirl crush on your pathetically gorgeous boss. the kind that makes you nauseous and unwell because he's just so, so pretty. and you'd end up telling him that you'd risk it all if he just gave you the chance.

but you like this job. you need this job. you can't let it go just because you've got a thing for older men with kind eyes whose soft lips spill praises like...

"you there?"

"mhm" you gulp. somehow your mouth is really fucking dry. good god, james wilson. good fucking god. you just want to rub your face on his chest like a cat. you need him to touch you. to pet you. to run his deft fingers refined from years of surgery and paperwork and everything else through your hair or something... what's wrong with you? there's a pit in your abdomen that needs him. you need him to praise you, like he always does. you need him to look at you, take you in, take advantage of you. just dear lord do something. not just stand there and express concern as your employer. just come closer, please, your mind whimpers to him.

"i really think you should rest. we've made considerable progress thanks to your good work and extra hours. you've really proved yourself."

but you don't want this to stop. he thinks you're good. useful. your boss, the intellectual, witty and beautiful man you work for, the best doctor you've met. the one who puts in the hours and effort to better himself in what he does... thinks you did a good job.

wilson does find you admirable. he likes your work ethic, your thirst to prove yourself. he likes your obsession, he compares it to house's sometimes. he like the way you talk, not much to him for some reason (maybe it's the "boss" thing or...) but everyone else in the oncology department. he likes that you're young and you hold him in high regard. you're always so attentive when he talks, so perceptive, so willing. among those things he commends, the ones he can tell his colleagues about, he also likes the tint in your skin when you stand under the dim lighting in the lab. some of it reflecting off your hair, slightly unkempt but beautiful. he likes you without the lab coat. he likes your keen eyes, your smile, your hands, your face, your tits, your...

he lets out a deep sigh. wilson likes you. admires you. maybe overstepping his place as your boss, as your mentor, as whatever that is you're making him in your head, the reflection of which he sees in your eyes sometimes. something desperate. aching. calling out his name, as if to say "come heal me".

and he knows what it is. it's the same look of admiration he gives you. the murky one. the slightly lustful one. he knows what you are. pretty young thing, final year med student, who'd rather flirt with house than chase or foreman. but he'd rather pretend he didnt. rather kid himself into thinking he doesn't care when chase of all people calls you young. that he doesn't feel guilty for wanting you to want him.

but maybe if he played into it long enough, played dumb long enough, made you feel like this is just how he is. just this sweet. if he made you believe that he had a reason to fold his cuffs to reveal his rather slutty forearms, loosen his tie on a late night, take off his coat complaining about the new jersey weather, gaze into your eyes at every occasion he got, all in pure innocence. this isnt flirting. this isn't an old man's desperation and desire permeating his professionalism.

no. this is okay. all he hopes for is that one day you'll give in. confess your love to him like cameron did to house. fight for him. shed a few tears. maybe then he could wipe then off your pretty cheeks and sigh. he could then reject you. just speak those words of "i'm sorry, it's inappropriate and your much younger than me" into existence. make them real, if only he could use all the rationality in the world to convince himself that he doesn't want you as despicably and carnally as he does.

he shuts his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. no. this isn't right. he'd be taking advantage of you. even if its what you want. even if it could be his little present to you.

"go home, doctor."

he leaves the door of the lab open on his way out.

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Caleb)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Caleb. The reason is because you hated him. Once. You hated yourself more as you, MC, were the cause his wings clipped, grounded. He should soar freely in the sky among clouds. You want him to forget about MC. Forget all the pain and the intense spiralling he went through much worse than the black hole he made. You will create his safe haven this time.

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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|  1 [current]  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |

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"Didn't you get excited to be able to meet him again? Why don't you let him be your companion anymore after the Main Story? And what's with this Affinity? Even I was higher than this. You have all his cards, right?"

Your cousin poked you with your phone. You avenge yourself with a pull on her cheeks. She relented and so do you.

"I just want to see how he's doing. Fans sharing is enough to satiate my curiosity. I don't need him to be THAT attached to MC anymore. No more MC. No more clipped wings. Thus, the low Affinity. I hope he'll get to be in his safe haven from now on."

She huffed, "What kind of logic is that?"

"Oh ... fishie lover want to comment on it? Didn't you said that you don't want to be the destroyer-"

Your mouth was cupped. You smirked under it.

"Zip it. I shouldn't have told you about it."

You poked her side, effectively tickling her and at the same time released her hand from your mouth.

"But you did. Thanks though. I was a bit lost at the time because of him. What came over me though?"

You pondered. She patted your back sympathetically.

"Welcome to the dark side."

You both laughed at that. Your mind flashed some memories of your journey to the dark side a few months ago.

+-----------------------+---------------------------+

A few months ago

*Click*

Even breathe. Blending with the quietness. The horizon was always in your vision. You smell the slightly watery evening breeze. Chapped lips adorned a small upturn of the calm surroundings.

*Bling*

You heard the phone. Stepping inside from the balcony, you approached the only table in the room. Putting your camera on it.

[You don't have to give me a bonus but thanks anyway ;) Also thanks for taking me in even for a short time. Holler me up if you ever need a part timer again.]

You laughed at your cousin's message.

[Anything for Miss Romantic. Hope you can finally be together with that water master.]

[He has a lovely name, you know. Why don't you play too. You can be my coach when there's a battle. You're quite good at it, right?]

[Me? Otome game? That's a whole lot of different genres from my usual gaming preference.]

[But you do play Once in a Hallow's Eve. No battle and you said it's interesting, right?]

[That's basically an animated novel. The story was quite interesting too. Most otome games are cringe and scary to a whole different level.]

[This one has a pretty good story. I'll send you a video of the Main Story then you can decide if you wanna play.]

Amused smile.

[What's with the hard recommendation?]

[HELP ME IN BATTLE. My friend also needs your help. She was just too stubborn to use his bunny boy in battle.]

[Alright. Alright. I'm already confused with the nicknames. I'll be sure to test Zacian and Wigglytuff after I got them.]

[ (• _ •) Did you just Pokemonized them?]

[Now. Now. Don't look at me like that. I only know them from your shared photos and stories. Bunny boy is the one holding a light sword, right? So the other one must be your fishie. You always said he likes to pout but it's cute. So...]

[ ( /// ~ /// ) Fine. I did say that. When you've played, give him a better one because... Why did bunny boy get a legendary one??? Not fair... Mine was God of the Sea, mind youuuu...]

The messages went back and forth with you laughing all the way until dinner. You promise to install the game to help your cousin out. And to tease her more.

"Right. Good thing I'm in a hotel. Free wifi. That's a lot of gigabytes to download and a punch to the storage lost."

A few minutes later.

Closed eyes. Pinched at the bridge of the nose. A pair of thin lines.

The music was nice. You kinda agree with that. Enjoyed it even. The view?

You shivered a bit NOT from the cool breeze of the air conditioner. Goose bumps rising from you. Cringe.

"How long does it take to install this?"

You opened one eye to see the progress and saw fingers gliding, clacking keyboard, red flowers and so on.

"Guhhh... otome game... Good thing I have separate phone for gaming. No way I'll let this invade my personal phone."

+-----------------------------+-----------------------+

*ELIMINATED*

"Hmm... Zacian is pretty good. Could polish my movement a bit. I'll be better in the upcoming battle. Now let's continue with the Main Story."

You flicked your wrist to loosen it. Getting a bit serious and focused in the game. The otome game.

+-----------------------------+-------------------------+

"GAHH ! There's a phone call? Caleb? Who?"

You answered. Brother. The conversation. The banter. Grandma took them in. You nodded.

"Didn't know she had sibling. Orphaned because of Chronorift Catastrophe? Glad Grandma's there to adopt them together."

Not minding it much, you went to the next scene.

+-----------------------------+-------------------------+

"Ice and heal. What a combination. Aurorus is probably a good combination for head-on fighters. Can't wait to see how Wigglytuff fares in a battle."

You chuckled as you continued the story. You admitted it piqued your interest to know what's going to happen next.

+-----------------------------------+------------------+

"Wigglytuff is a fire user? But didn't she tell me he's... Did he live in underwater volcano or what?"

You laughed at your own commentary. It was yet another interesting combination and he's quite a skilled dagger user too.

+-----------------------------+------------------------+

"Wow. Didn't think I would be so immersive in this."

Story progress was capped by Hunter Level. Well play. It's a good thing too. You exited the game and prepared to sleep. Don't want to miss tomorrow's flight home.

+----------------------------+-------------------------+

"You look awful."

"Is that anyway to greet your cousin?"

She chuckled, "That's my love language to kick you out and have a good rest at home."

You grumbled, "Let me just take the order list. Then I'll be going upstairs."

She sighed, "Maybe your idea of converting the third floor as your home isn't such a good idea."

"This building is my home whatever it may be. I'm glad I was able to persuade Gramps to leave his legacy to me rather than selling it off."

"He'll be proud."

You both turned to a picture on the wall fondly. An elderly woman was sitting while an elderly man was standing behind her chair, hugging her lovingly.

"She was comfortable back at the village. She even had the energy to scold me when I visited her every week." Your cousin pouted.

You laughed, "She don't want you to worry about her being by herself. The people there are great. I'll be visiting her soon too. Just need to reschedule..." You reached for the paper on the table.

It was snatched out of your hand. Shocked, you turned to the snatcher.

"Rest. Now. I think Granie got worried because YOU'RE the one that starts to visit her so often. Go. Upstairs. Shoo."

You matched her pout and got pinched on the arm. Defeated, you stepped away only to stop and turned to her much to her confusion.

"There's a level cap for the Main Story to progress. How many times before I could go through all the chapters?"

Her eyes slowly widen then she was jumping gleefully towards you. You prepared for the worst.

"You played it already !!! Want to Friend me? Oh wait let me share something real quick." She quickly tapped away in her phone.

*Bling*

The phone in your hand alerted you.

[ Beginner's Guide ]

"It help me a lot even when I've played quite a while. It reminded me of the basic things that I sometimes forego even though it's quite important. Check it out while you rest up."

You chuckled, "Prepared as always. Thanks for helping your junior, senior."

She grinned.

You retreated to your humble abode. Adrenaline was still there because your mind was ready to work. Gaming was what usually took the load off and this new one took your attention from yesterday.

You snickered to yourself, "What a turn of event... I'm winding off by reading a guide to play otome game."

You tapped the shared link and read it through, humming in understatement once in a while. You get the gist of it as you nodded yourself to sleep, finally letting your tired body loose after a long journey.

+------------------------------+-----------------------+

"Hello boys."

You glanced at your phone for a second as you clacked away on your laptop. It is less awkward now to see the loading screen when you have logged in every day for the past week.

"Just doing my Daily then I'll be out. Gotta settle this ordering list."

+------------------------------+-------------------+

You flicked your wrist, "That's quite a battle. Good thing I keep revisiting past battle in Main Story to practice. Training Room didn't help much for me."

You commented loosely.

*Ting*

*Ting*

You stared at the disappearing notification.

"What did I do for Caleb to suddenly prompted a message?"

You went to the Chat. Another staring ensued. It shouldn't matter much but your instinct was unconsciously feeling a bit suspicious with him.

For what?

You're not sure.

You scoffed, "Don't tell me you're going to turn evil next. That's a twist."

+-----------------------------+------------------------+

White noise.

Blurry vision.

Unbreathing.

Mouth agape. Unmoving.

Orange colour didn't stop lighting the screen. The only change was the stark difference of the warmth it gave. From burning flames to gentle twilight. The change snapped you back to reality.

Your finger somehow moved as your eyes barely registered the changes on the screen.

[I promise you'll see me everyday wh...]

"Liar."

A single tear. Small sobs. Twin lines.

You hate him.

For breaking the promise. For breaking MC's heart.

For making me cry.

How did a game character affect you so much?

+-----------------------------+-----------------------+

Life goes on.

You still played. Just... not the same. You're encouraged to keep playing after seeing your cousin's hardwork just to buy a new phone for the game. To meet her fishie.

Everyday you saw the one thing that's slowly moving away from you.

One name. One conversation.

Always there but so far away.

Unmoving.

Until...

*Bling*

It was the only notification sound that reverbs you to your core. Not because it was a special sound. Not because it was loud.

It was because of who it was from.

"What."

+-----------------------------+-----------------------+

Present

The night was serene. The wind picked up. Eyes fluttering slightly to the sound. Choppy breathing. Slight gap of mouth. The dark embraced your sleeping form kindly.

There was one light faintly illuminating the room. A phone was still on and a sleeping face was near it.

From a closer look, there's streaks of tears on the cheeks. One of the evidences showing the release of your jumbled up feeling a few minutes ago.

Happy. Glad. Betrayed. Hurt. Disappointed. Longing.

Caleb.

The second evidence was the man himself, sitting on the sofa as he scrolled the holographic screen, replacing the bunny boy that was sitting there moments ago. A few seconds passed then the screen flashed a hint.

He was standing now. Closing the gap as much as possible to the screen.

"For such a tough girl, you sure cry a lot, my lil' beacon."

His hand made it off screen in an attempt to wipe your cheeks.

Unsuccessfully, of course.

Sighing, he settled on looking at the tranquil sleeping face with the streaks still there.

He was smiling fondly but there's guilt glistening in his violet amethyst pair.

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A/N: You can actually tap on the Beginner's Guide. Give it a go if you're curious.

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|  1 [current]  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5  |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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[cherubispunk]

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world! 

playlist 

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hello again, dear! Kind Words.

Just a follow-up... since last, I keep finding myself thinking about what kinds of birds you all would be! (Sigh. I even thought of one for Jimmy, yes. That man.) I know, quite silly, isn't it? I suppose I just couldn't help myself. If you don't mind me musing to you for a bit...?

[ https://open.spotify.com/track/219YZeCWcs99zpB1pKoQy7?si=8S-dJn9FRNmvsBJw5P_-9g ]

Curly: Blue Jay. I am sure you are familiar with these. Blue jays are recognizable for their iconic blue-and-black plumage, and they are quite popular among bird lovers! They are known for their intelligence, boldness, and loyalty to their tightly-knit flocks. A blue jay may represent good fortune, and chances for new opportunities within our lives.

Jimmy: Mockingbird. Unassuming little bastards - oh, excuse me - with loud and noisy calls. Don't be fooled by their humble appearance, though; they are known to be highly aggressive and territorial over their nests. I have heard they may represent a need for self-reflection and change. I frequently spot them bullying the blue jays in my neighborhood... and the squirrels. And the crows. And the neighbor's cat. Seems quite fitting to me.

Anya: Pigeon. Ah, the noble pigeon. Unassuming to most, and shamefully discredited for their helpfulness. They once played an important role alongside people as message carriers, but were eventually phased out and abandoned to city streets. Due to their domestication, though, they are now quite docile and tolerant of humans. I hear they can make for fantastic and loyal companions. They are common symbols of peace, hope, and freedom.

Daisuke: Hummingbird. Yes, everyone's favorite flashy, hyperactive backyard pollinators. They are just too cute to dislike, aren't they? They are known for their love of flowers' sweet nectar, as well as their speed and curious personalities. They symbolize unabashed joy, courage, and strength, and remind us to enjoy life's pleasures as they come.

Swansea: Trumpeter Swan. I am sure this one was obvious... the trumpeter swan is the largest swan species in North America. They are quite the loudmouths, with their signature "trumpeting" calls... and, like all swans, are known to be rather fierce and aggressive, especially regarding their young. Swans typically symbolize grace, beauty, and love... though, uh, I'm not sure how much of that is applicable to Swansea. You know him better than I. But they can also be symbols of wisdom and inner-strength, too.

And... that's everyone! What do you think, blue jay? I'll admit I may be a bit biased in my selection - especially yours, but I just couldn't put another bird to your name! Who couldn't be happier seeing a blue jay among the feeders, yes? They are just so charming.

Oh, gosh, I do apologize if all of that was terribly boring, though. It seems I certainly know how to chatter your ear off one way or the other. Feel free to stop me next time, yeah? (Whoops! I did it again.)

Ever watching the birds, darling! Cheers! 🐦

Hello again!

Hah, really? Course I don't mind. Please do.

(This sounds much nicer than the effects by the lounge's window screen...)

Awww. I can't agree with you that this sounds like me. I mean, c'mon, boldness? Good fortune? Please. Still, I'm flattered. Heheh.

Pfft. Can't much argue there. I thought cats were supposed to chase birds, not the other way 'round?

Pigeon, huh? This I have to hear. Mm, yeah, sounds like her... Peace, hope, and freedom. I like that.

Hah! That sure fits him. Always flitting about making some sort of noise (before the crash, anyways) and bouncing off the walls. Here's hoping he gets back there again. Hummingbirds are resilient, yeah?

Of course, of course. He really leans into the swan thing, you know. Even his keys are swan-themed! A fierce, aggressive loudmouth? That's Swansea all right. And— Hah! Hey, he's loving in his own special Swansea way.

I think you've got my crew pretty much down. Definitely biased when it comes to me, but I'm not complaining.

Nope, not boring at all! I told you over and over how much I appreciate your talks, yeah? It's more of a comfort for me than I can tell you. Please continue! (Hah. Yep.)

Cheers! (Psst. You did it again!)

[axolator]

Welcome to my blog!

This is where I post about Blood on the Clocktower! Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy your stay.

I run a series called Script-A-Day here, where I highlight custom BotC scripts I think are novel and interesting! You can find the introduction post Script-A-Day #0 here, and a collection of all the scripts I've highlighted that are in the BotC Scripts database here. It used to update daily, but you run out of good scripts quickly that way. It updates weekly on Fridays!

I'm pretty new to the whole tumblr thing, all things considered, so this is also something of an experiment. My inbox is open: if you've got a question or request, please go ahead and shoot me a message! I haven't seen a lot of dedicated Clocktower posts here on tumblr, so I'm doing my part to interface with a community of people who enjoy the greatest social deduction game ever.

Other bio information:

Call me Axolator! Any (reasonable) shortening of my name's also fine. Just don't take the piss.

I use she/her/hers pronouns.

My profile picture was drawn by Sunquill, and I'd highly encourage you to check out her website and commision her if you're interested. She's incredibly skilled; you won't regret it!

I've been in the BotC community since April of 2023 after getting introduced by a friend who brought the game back with him from college over spring break. I've been hooked since then!

Online, I mainly haunt the Unofficial BotC Discord Server, where I've attained the status of Community-Endorsed Storyteller for both live voice and asynchronous text games.

In-person, I'm involved with running a couple of IRL groups of friends that I helped introduce to Clocktower. We get up to shenanigans: if I ever mention the Philo-Steward incident, that's where it originated.

I play a lot of non-Clocktower games, too, and might post/rb posts about them:

Board games: Spirit Island and Power Grid are among my favorites, but I generally enjoy strategy games!

Video games: The Binding of Isaac (duh), Bug Fables: The Everlasting Sapling, and Baba Is You are all up there. I really just enjoy anything with a good soundtrack. Well, and Pokémon Showdown.

Tag guide:

#blood on the clocktower: Posts about BotC

#scriptaday: Posts in my Script-A-Day series!

#axowall of text: Longer text posts that aren't Script-A-Day, like my character analyses

#scriptbuilding: Posts about building custom scripts

#storytelling: Posts about STing Clocktower: both mechanical posts (like running discretionary characters well) but also thoughts about running Clocktower across various different mediums (IRL, live voice, livetext, async text) and making sure everyone has fun

#silly: Memes and other non-serious posts

#nonbotc: Posts not about BotC (I'll usually tag what they are about)

If I come up with more tags, I'll update this post with them!

I don't actually know what else tends to go on people's pinned posts. Uhh, thanks for reading all the way, I guess?? I'll see you around!

[rychlostthespacewizard]

I've been collecting some random quotes I found around the internet and use in my dnd games

Here are some I found in no specific order:

1. "Speak, mortal. You have reached Tharvek, Devourer of Innocents and Wielder of Eternal Flames. It appears I have missed your pitiful attempt at contact. Leave your name, teleportation runes, preferred genre of torment, shoe size, allegiance, deepest fears, vulnerabilities, complete medical history, and where you summoned the gall to disturb me. I may choose to acknowledge your existence, but not by such mundane means. Thank you, and remember: tread carefully, for death lurks at every shadowed crossing."

2. "Are you aiming for greatness or avoiding disapointment"

3. "Si operarii omnes producunt, omnia operariis pertinent."

4. "what do you think it means to be saved"

5. "What happened?" - "Nothing that wasn't my fault"

6. "Something is different"

7. "I don't think so, but i do think that the growing control of those that have the power over the means of production is a threat to the autonomy of the people. As value that is created by the working force is not rewarded to them. Instead only guarantees enough for them to survive and work more. It's like slavery but with extra steps. So anyhow, how's your day going?"

8. "You know, that reminds me that sometimes, violence is the necessary. Sometimes the only path to redemption for the sins of ignorance is to face the fundamental truth of blood and fire. As they meet the primordial within their heartbeat, the oppressors might have a chance to understand the pain they caused and atone for their sins. Also have you seen the new play at the theater?"

9.  "You think we're equals? I had to battle struggles you've never imagined. I became this while fearing the night, disguising myself as a man just to travel safely. Our similarities end when you learned to fight your enemies, while I had to fight comrades who left me with scars that will never heal. I survived because I was cursed to live as I am among those I swore to protect, only to be seen as their enemy."

10. "The universe is and we are"

11. "We do not have much connection, you and I. Still this encounter feels special, I hope you do not mind if I think of you as a friend"

12. "This is your home. If you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I'd be honoured to stand alongside you. The enemy attacks tomorrow. He's brutal and fights only to kill, which is why he will never defeat us. Look around. In this circle, we're all equals. You're not fighting because someone's ordering you to, you're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops in peace. And if you fall, you fall fighting for the noblest of causes: fighting for your very right to survive! And when you're old and grey, you'll look back on this day, and you'll know you earned the right to live every day in between! So you fight! For your family! For your friends! For Ealdor!"

13. "I can't blame you for wanting to know yourself better, it was one of the biggest pleasures of my life"

14. "The pain of your absence is sharp and haunting, and I would five anything to not know it; anything but never knowing you at all I can only hope that you are safe, wherever you are"

15. "This song is new to me, but I am honored to be part of it"

16. "It's tempting to linger in this moment, but unless they are collapsed by an observer, they will never be more than that, only possibilities"

17. "Are you still here? I am unsure how to survive in a universe without you, I am unsure how to be me without you"

18. "Is the hardest part of this tragedy not knowing who we may have lost? or will the hardest part come later, when we learn?"

19. "I see someone making through, you just need to be sure it is you"

20. "You are no saint; you're just indifferent. You aid all without caring who they've wronged or what evil they've wrought. You place the wicked among those who shelter you. Even the gods' love is not unconditional, and neither should ours be."

21. As the hag's gaze pierces through the darkness, her voice resonates with an otherworldly chill. "You feel it, don't you? The knot tightening around your throat, the sharp claws of dread digging into your chest, the icy tendrils slithering down your spine? That's the sensation of being forsaken, of standing alone in the void, unnoticed by the gods. Even your soul quivers, knowing that no divine intervention will come to your aid. You're trapped in a blind spot, unseen by the greater powers." Her words hang heavy in the air, suffocating the very essence of hope. "And yet, you cling to your righteous desires, your noble quest to save your friends. But can you be certain that your gods will forgive such a pact with a creature like me? Your actions may be seen as a grievous offense, a betrayal of everything they hold dear. Will they not turn their backs on you? And this dread that gnaws at your spirit, it will not dissipate once you leave this place. It will cling to you like a curse, haunting your every step until the day you finally rest in your grave, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurks within your soul."

22. "In this life, we traverse like a canoe upon deep waters. Our passage ripples the surface briefly, yet the depths remain undisturbed. With time, the surface quiets once more, leaving no trace of our journey."

23. "You are a coward wearing the facade of a revolutionary."

24. "What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

25. "I will face god and walk backwards into hell."

26. "The man who sleeps on the floor cannot fall out of bed."

27. "The man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one."

28. "For every person who dreams up a butter knife, there is a person who dreams up a poisoned dagger."

29. "Only the dead have seen the end of war."

30. "Does the archer fear his bow? Or does he kiss each arrow goodbye as it marries the wind?"

31. "These feelings can eat away at you, chip away the parts of you that you once held dear and defined you. You remember a time where you felt more complete, had stronger relationships and felt more loved."

32. "To be tall is not a virtue, to be short is not a sin."

33. "Power comes in a response to a need, not desire. You have to create that need."

34. "You can't kill me in a way that matters."

35. "Do what you must, I have already won."

36. "Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. The silence is your answer."

37. "Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with only one side."

38. "When they burned Ioun's Archive, the crowd revelled in horrible disbelief. They understood that there was something older than wisdom, and it was fire, and something truer than words, and it was ashes, and something more eternal than knowledge, and it was death."

39. "I can no longer be a liberator for people who refuse to see their chains."

40. "You could sooner divert a river from its corse than deny my nature."

41. "Violence for violence is the rule of beasts."

42. "The only universal langue is blood and flames, we all have spoken this language and felt the fear of words older than our desires."

43. "The fire of extravagance can never burn simplicity."

44. "A mind unprepared for freedom will shatter like glass when shown cosmos without restriction."

45. "I have been cursed by my hubris, and my work will never be finished."

46. "I would rather die standing than live kneeling."

47. "For even the most banal of deaths can be made tragic by a broken heart."

48. "To love someone is to turn around. To love someone is to look at them."

49. "There's no cheerful somebody waiting for you at that alter. There is no meaning your alphabet soup. There is a right to obey."

50. "The foulest insults you hurl with intent to wound will calmly settle at the earth beneath my feet, and the venom you spit will bring all the pain of a warm summer breeze. You are less than you can concieve, while I carry on, brmmming with joy distilled from detatchment."

51. "They killed the best of us, so they are stuck with the worst of us."

52. "There is no truer hatred than the way men love."

53. "Would you spit in the face of the god's designs by referring to a mountain as a hill?"

54. "If i lay one brick down at a time who are you to tell me I'm not building a house?"

55. "True love graced you with its presence and you turned its intimacy into a joke to be shared with the world."

56. "To enter is to be forgiven of the greatest sin, to leave is to repeat it. Would you dwell in this garden, or would you forsake it, for man deserveth not his paradise lost?"

57. "She was wild, crazy, ravenous and beautiful. But we simple mortal men who have lived know better than to chase things that are not meant to be caught nor tamed."

58. "I live outside of the gods' sight and by consequence outside of their love."

59. "This is war. War does not determine who is right, only who is left."

60. "I'm a man dying of thirst watching another man drown."

61. "You are naught but a nail dreaming itself a hammer."

62. "Each inch of our lands are littered with the ruins of empires that dared to dream of eternity and deemed themselves endless. "

63. "You walk upon bones of those who thought they could tame the wild, and yet dare to repeat their sins?"

[templeofvengeance]

☽ Welcome to the Temple of Vengeance! Greatest of the Great Gods, Khonshu, presiding. ☾

☽ Inbox: Open ☾

[Indie RP/Ask blog for Khonshu from the MCU's Moon Knight. Set after the show ends by default, but also open to other verses. Open for questions or threads! More info on the blog, or under the cut for mobile users.]

Updated: 2/8/25

Laws of the Temple

☽ BASICS ☾

- MUN STUFF: My name's Kew! She/they, well over 21. No triggers. I don't have DID, any attempt to portray it is based on the show/comics. I only speak English fluently and any other language will be google translate. Please forgive any mistakes.

- If you want to interact, my DMs are open! Probably the easiest way to get things started ooc, but asks are also fine. They should be open to non-mutuals.

- MINORS BE WARNED: I'm not going to be super strict about weeding out minors since things aren't going to get smutty around here, but NSFW topics could still come up, and the show Khonshu is from does explore some darker themes. I dunno. You've been warned.

- GENERAL CONTENT WARNING FOR: Descriptions of violence, religious stuff, swearing, emotional manipulation, a.bleism (especially surrounding mental health stuff.) I’ll try to tag other things as they come up.

- GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES: Don't make actions for my character without asking, don't assume past relationships/deep history without asking, don't read my character's mind (unless your character is a telepath, and even then I don't know if that works on gods), etc. - FEEL FREE TO REBLOG MEMES FROM ME. It actually helps me remember to send stuff out. You can also reblog art/headcanons, pretty much anything except RP threads if you're not the other party!

- NOT PRIVATE, BUT SELECTIVE: I sometimes don't follow big multimuses back since I have pretty strict tastes in fandoms, and I don't want to clog my dash with characters I don't know. That doesn't mean I don't want to roleplay with you though! As for selectivity, I reserve the right to say no if things just don't click writing-wise.

- SPOILERS FOR MOON KNIGHT EVERYWHERE. There will be untagged spoilers for both the comics and especially the show.

- KHONSHU IS AN ASSHOLE. Nothing he says reflects my real views about anything. If he’s mean to you, it doesn’t mean I don’t like you or you’ve done something wrong.

- FOR OTHER MARC/STEVEN/JAKE MUSES: By default, I'll play Khonshu like he's connected to your Marc/Steven/Jake. If you want it to be dimension-hopping shenanigans (which I'm super down to do, especially for ones more heavily based on the comics) you'll have to let me know! All these interactions will be on different verses, and I don't plan to have Khonshu be 'mains' with any muses.

- FIGHTS: With extremely rare exceptions, I'm just gonna say no to fight threads with Khonshu. Partly because he's incorporeal and really can't be hurt or hurt anyone else directly. Mostly because fighting other muses has always stressed me out. If it's something you really want to do, we can talk about it. (This doesn't mean your character can't attack Khonshu ever, it just means it probably won't work.)

☽ MUSE INFO ☾

NAME: Khonshu OTHER NAMES: Chons, Bloody pigeon, Silly old bird (He accepts none of those) PRONOUNS: He/him HEIGHT: Varies, usually around 8-10 feet tall. WEIGHT: N/A (Incorporeal, like a ghost) AGE: Has existed since the dawn of time, so who knows.

- KHONSHU is the Egyptian god of the moon, vengeance, healing and time, among other smaller things. While he is enormously powerful in theory, he’s mostly unable to affect the physical world without use of a mortal AVATAR, dubbed his MOON KNIGHT. Those who agree to be his Avatar are granted superpowers and near-invulnerability, in exchange for agreeing to carry out his mission: Bringing vengeance against those who harm his travelers of the night.

- Khonshu is also somehow a billions-year-old grumpy baby who flips over trash cans when he doesn’t get his way.

- By default, Khonshu's current Avatar is JAKE LOCKLEY, only. But, he can also be played before the events of the show, when he (technically) has the triple threat of Jake Lockley, MARC SPECTOR, and STEVEN GRANT.

- Jake will make occasional cameos on this blog, but I wouldn't call this a dual muse. (You can request him in asks if you want.)

- Normally, only his Avatar (or Avatars of other gods) are capable of seeing/hearing Khonshu, but let’s say this blog is a holy space where he can answer your prayers questions. (In threads, we can always bullshit a reason your character can see Khonshu.)

- This Khonshu is HEAVILY BASED ON THE TV SHOW, which means he lacks a lot of the harsher history his comic book counterpart has. You can ask about comic stuff, he just might have a different opinion.

- Some comic lore has been added/built upon, namely his fraught history with his father, AMON-RA.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Muffin! It's ASP Inc, the conglomerate made up of the companies formerly known as Apple, Sony, and Pepsi-Co. Based on your credentials with prior projects, you've been conscripted again for another big budget Twilight media project! Probably the CEO is on drugs, but congrats on your $500m dollar budget.

Your task is to design a big-budget Twilight video game. "But I don't really play that many video games," you maybe say? Idk, the CEO doesn't seem to care and is maybe using this project for tax evasion, so your instructions are "Just make us a Twilight game with gameplay stolen from a popular thing like a Minecraft, Fortnight, Among Us, whatever the kids nowadays are playing. Maybe a Mario? Are Marios still a thing?? I played Oregon Trail on my mac once. Stick some story in it. Give it the Muffin treatment, kids like Muffins!"

Your project brief must include:

1) What non-story-based gameplay mechanic you're stealing ("It's like a Mario!") 2) What story set in the Twilight Universe (tm) you've decided is most game-able. 3) Where you're spending the big bucks.

Thank you and good luck! (I hope this is fun and not, you know, annoying)

That would be a very silly thing for them to do.

Caveat

Twilight already is a video game: it's a visual novel. You are Bella Swan, first person point of view, checking out hottie mchottie across the hall. You don't know it, but the wrong action you take, even if it's arriving in the parking lot late: you die.

It's up to you to find Bella's golden path to survival which is in fact the Twilight novels we know and love.

Ordinarily, I'm a big skeptic of medium jumps without much thought, especially to and from video games as they usually don't transition well. However, in this case, we're already there.

You don't even have to change that much of the narrative structure since it's all in first person and we have the visuals as we know exactly what everyone looks like down to what exact shade of red their hair is.

There's not much for me to do.

But That Will Never Fly/Isn't What You Asked For

It sounds like this merger corporation doesn't really understand Twilight or video games which is not surprising. So, I have to make a real person video game which is just like that thing the kiddos are playing.

And since I'm going to hell anyway: I'm making a Twilight game that's RDR/GTA styled and we're going wild.

You're Bella Swan going to high school but you can wander around the town of Forks/the world at large and do whatever the fuck you want. This often gets you killed horribly. You go to Mexico: you're eaten by vampires. You go to Alaska: you get fucked by vampires and have a wild time in their sauna. You go to Egypt: some guy named Amun locks you in a tomb where you hang out with Benjamin, Tia, and Amun's angry wife. You can take missions for the Volturi, which they never asked you to do, and every time you collect a bounty a Volturi member will give you a weird look and ask "what the fuck is wrong with you/why are you here?" but you'll earn in game rewards as they publicly shame you.

You can also get into affairs with your human friends and ruin Jessica's love life, go to Prom with five people, and so on and so forth.

You can also get involved in the La Push community where they stare at you for being this person who clearly doesn't belong and try to seduce Leah into a lesbian love affair with you. (This is a very difficult quest, Leah's not impressed and very confused and going through it with Sam right now). You get to hear all of people's drama that's going on in the side lines.

The actual plot is dating Edward, and somehow, he doesn't notice all your wild adventures because he can't read your mind and while he's been stalking you every time you leave the state he loses your scent.

Your missions are surprisingly difficult as you have to avoid death by Edward by saying the right things and avoid death by everything else in the universe by navigating Port Angeles correctly (shockingly hard as the rapists somehow corner you at every turn). You also get missions during the Hallucination Edward arc as you have to do increasingly difficult and dangerous things to get Hallucination Edward to appear at which point your player character gets sweet sweet endorphins.

In the online player mode, where you've probably become a vampire, you can engage in vampire warfare where the losing condition is you killed too many humans so the Volturi come to kill all of you.

And yes, of course, there is an honor system but you blow it yourself as Bella's honor plummets during New Moon when she has to endanger herself and others to see Edward.

The money's going into a) graphics b) the sheer open worldness allowed in the number of quests, the random events, and all that good points.

Conclusion

I imagine they ask me how I will market this game to Twilight's audience, who are presumably the only ones who will play this game, and I claim, "Young women love grand theft auto!"

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 心宅猎人/Psych-Hunter.

Psych-Hunter is a 2020 drama about a hot young amnesiac who, accompanied by a rich psychiatrist with major daddy issues and a rich girl who cosplays as a cop, uses his Inception-style psychic powers to solve crimes that are part of a shadowy conspiracy orchestrated by a mysterious figure.

True story: Once I couldn't remember the English name of the drama, so I called it "House Haunters," and now my brain insists that's the real English title. If only!

Do not, under any circumstances, labor under the impression that this show is good. It's not. It's incoherent. The writing is bad. The villain is absurd. The vibe is comically melodramatic. People make inexplicable and out-of-character decisions all the time. Countless complex mysteries get set up with no way to resolve them. There's a thin lampshade hanging over it that blurs the line between bad decisions made on accident and bad decisions made on purpose, but the net result is largely the same. This is the show that first inspired my wife to declare something dumb as a guinea pig in a roller skate.

But it's fun. It's a sea of colorful chaos with brilliant pieces that shine through like strange gems. It knows how to work an atmosphere and does so to create some legitimately creepy moments. It spins a wild yarn filled with bizarre and loveable characters. And it has some twists that truly have to be seen to be believed. In the mood for some beautiful nonsense? Here's five reasons that despite everything I warned you about in the previous paragraph, I think this one's worth watching.

1. Psychonauts for Jazz Age homosexuals

Honestly, that phrase alone should let you know if this is the thing for you. But just in case, let me explain the basic premise of the show:

Jiang Shuo, a man who has lost his memory and been adopted by circus folk, is capable of jingling his keys and diving full-body into someone else's subconscious, represented by lovely and thematic dreamscapes. He does this to solve crimes. Sometimes he takes along a handsome doctor who seems like he might know more than he's letting on, by literally tying their hands together with a red string.

Also, when they do this, they get gorgeous steampunk magical girl costume changes, complete with the cutest little pony nub you've ever seen.

This show can be stunningly beautiful. It knows how to manifest dream logic eerily well. Most of these cognitions are gorgeous, and many are done with primarily practical effects, like it's a stage play. ...And it's good it relies on that so much, because the CG it has is kinda cheap and terrible! So, yeah.

(Side note for the DMBJ fans: This is directed by the same guy who directed Sand Sea, which I assume is related to how this both is a visual treat and completely falls apart on the back end.)

The reason I'm a bit surprised that this hasn't taken off more among the creative set is what a great piece of worldbuilding this Psych-diving is. These boys (and, once, the girl) get to short-term manifest bodily in someone else's materialized mental state, where the person whose brain they’re in neither controls the experience nor remembers what happened after it’s done. Were you writing weird Arthur/Eames fic a decade ago? I got a new best thing for you. Can you say freaky dream sex? Because I can.

The base premise should be more than enough to get your gears going. Come ready to get weird with it. There's so much potential here, and so much of that potential is incredibly gay and wearing impeccably tailored suits.

2. Your friendly neighborhood circus family

As I mentioned before, Jiang Shuo lucks into the best possible fate that can befall an amnesiac: being picked up by carnies.

The troupe includes Ventriloquist Man, Really Big Dude, One-Eyed Acrobat, Other Acrobat, Cheerful Fat Girl, Boy Who Looks Like A Kid But Is Actually Played By An Adult So I'm Not Exactly Sure How Old The Character Himself Is Supposed To Be, and Silver Fox Circus Dad, who manages the whole crew. They're a ragtag bunch of performers who all live together in this cute little compound in some very nice slums, and sometimes they open the gates to their lavish compound and put on a circus show for all the common people!

Now: You know this is not going to be the wokest, most sensitive portrayal of body differences, because of course it isn't. But damn, it's pretty not-bad. The show treats all the circus members as valuable people worthy of affection, whose (occasionally exasperating) quirks are no more or less exhausting than those of the non-circus weirdos in the rest of the supporting cast.

I was half-expecting them to disappear after the first arc, but no! They’re a constant fixture through the show! They’re mostly there to support the show’s more comedic moments, but some of them get wrapped up in more emotional plotlines as well. And every now and then you get to see them actually do their circus shit, which is great.

I will admit that my fondness for them is related to how much I generally love fictional Freaks — you know, misfits who have banded together because society considers them unacceptably weird, but together their weirdnesses make them strong. When you find them, they’re usually the bad guys (e.g., the Gung-Ho Guns from Trigun, the Scorpion crew from Word of Honor) whose freak statuses make them formidable and occasionally sympathetic antagonists. But not so here! The Psych-Hunter Family Circus is good guy support all the way through to the final episode.

I know "found family" is a term that suffers from overuse, but that's the best way to describe what's happening here -- really, it's a family that's already found itself even before the show starts, and now they all live together as an unconventional collective of astonishingly flexible people. How did they find one another? Doesn't matter! What matters is that they all love and would do anything for their newest member, and they think it's great when he comes home with his attractive rich friends, who often arrive bringing snacks, which is really the best use for rich people, if you think about it.

3. Two hands, one ring

Now, if you've seen the series already, you know the moment I'm talking about. But if you haven't (and, statistically, you haven't), know that what I mean is the relationship between these two losers.

Together, Qin Yiheng and Jiang Shuo form the emotional core of the series. They're both drawn to one another because of mysterious circumstances that have started to align. Jiang Shuo's memory is missing, Qin Yiheng's dad has vanished, and all signs point to those absences as having something to do with one another.

Very early in the show, we see Qin Yiheng pull a "come with me if you want to live" on Jiang Shuo, giving the impression that he knows just what's going on in this crazy city. Except, no, he doesn't. Or does he? No, we're pretty sure he doesn't. Or he does, but he's forgotten what he knows, if he ever even knew it in the first place. Anyway, time to tie their hands together and jump into someone else's brain!

I'd say they're in love, but that's not quite it. Dr. Qin Yiheng, high-class homosexual, is in love with Jiang Shuo to the point where he's about to murder someone (possibly Jiang Shuo himself) out of frustration about it. Jiang Shuo, on the other hand, is much more sticking his fingers in his ears and going LA LA LA YOU CAN'T CATCH ME GAY THOUGHTS while trying get a girlfriend in an effort to pretend that all the shit they get up to together isn't tremendously romantic.

That is, until the scene that leads to the which-hand ring guessing game, at which point the burden of their relationship falls on Jiang Shuo (and the Inception parallels get unignorable) for exactly as long as the show will allow it to, before it freaks out and has to add another girl love interest just to make sure all the homos got no'd.

It's not textually gay, because seriously, have you met Chinese television? But it's pretty gay. Or, rather, I think Liu Dongqin (Qin Yiheng) is playing his character as a dedicated homosexual on purpose, and Hou Minghao (Jiang Shuo) is just ... kinda like that? I mean, everything I’ve seen him in, he gets real dreamy-eyed around strong men who pay close attention to him. Maybe it's just his thing as an actor. I'm not judging.

However, the main cast isn't just the two of them. One of the things that led me to this show was the promise of an OT3. And does it deliver on that promise?

Well ... sorta.

Qin Yiheng, Jiang Shuo, and Yuan Muqing are a pretty standard MFM not-love-triangle trio of Male Bestie, Main Guy, and Girlfriend (respectively). There's about five seconds at the beginning of the series where it looks like Yuan Muqing might be into Qin Yiheng, but no, that evaporates almost instantly and is never spoken of again -- and with it disappears most of their interactions with one another, period. So it's less an OT3, and more a case of bisexual cutiepie Jiang Shuo getting both a boyfriend and a girlfriend in a world where censorship will only let the latter relationship exist textually.

But damn if these boys aren't made for one another. Sure, there's a level of conscious comical queerbaiting to it -- I mean, there's straight-up an "only one bed" moment, so you know the show isn't stumbling into rainbow territory on accident. No matter how sexual or nonsexual or whatever you read it as, though, their dynamic is the spine that holds the story together. Really, it's almost sad how often the relationships are set parallel to one another, because when you do that, it becomes obvious how intense Jiang Shuo's bond with Qin Yiheng is, and how largely lackluster and comphet most of his canon romance with Yuan Muqing is by comparison.

Like so.

sidebar: The Girl

I am not going to go into a full-throated defense of The Girl this time, as I am wont to do, mostly because I think Yuan Muqing is full of potential in concept but so badly executed that there's really no hope for her. Her entire personality is whatever they need her to be in any particular scene. It's just that once in a while, what they need her to be is completely insane -- like, seeing-things-that-aren't-there insane -- and it's so great that it makes me mad! She could have been like this all the time! But noooooo

As it is, she has a perfunctory canonical romance with Jiang Shuo that's about as endgame as anything is capable of being (see point 5), and it actually gets pretty cute when it finally gets to the point where it's not just awkward obligation! But alas, it only does that so late in the series that it's not even worth it getting invested in it.

She is a creation of the show. She has no novel counterpart. Her entire function in the drama is to un-gay the dynamic between the boys. You can tell that she was initially supposed to have a different role -- to be the muscle of this trio -- but the narrative forgets pretty quickly that she's got that skill set, and she regresses to being The Girl. She makes dumb decisions that forward the plot. She gets put into danger whenever it's convenient. She demands Jiang Shuo do manly things for her because that’s what a girl is supposed to do, I guess? And then there are moments where she’s cool and crazy and it’s awesome! But they never last.

So if you are going to watch this, be prepared for the fact that the female lead is badly written to the point of frustration. I feel her actor is doing the absolutely best with what she's got; the problem is that what she's got is pretty crappy. Still, Muqing gets some pretty charming moments here and there, and I think it's worth hanging onto those and imagining the character she could have been, if the writers had cared just a little more, or even at all.

4. Powerfully surreal worldbuilding

I'm not even talking about the way people's psyches are structured according to dream logic -- the "normal" waking world is almost equally bizarre. The story takes place in sort of the real world c. 1930, except that a lot of things are off. For example, Japan and England are real locations, but China kinda isn't -- instead, the show takes place in a Shanghai-like city-state run by this moustachioed generalissimo with a faux Latin American dictator aesthetic. The place has its own flag and government and police force (where all the cops have coordinating surnames) and diplomatic relationships with other countries, so it’s clearly its own thing. But what that thing is? What it’s even called? Look, don’t worry about it. Nobody else is worried, so you shouldn’t be either.

You will, at every point in the series, be wondering if the show is trying to telegraph to you that Something's Not Quite Right Here, or if it's just making weird decisions for the sake of artsy weirdness. But don't worry -- there's absolutely no way to tell the difference between the two! Just roll with it.

There's a weird mix of universe rules happening throughout, where everything is mostly period-appropriate for a while, and then somebody builds a clock with levitating parts, or causes someone else to have very specific memory loss — or, again, swings some coins in front of a person’s face and gains the ability to treat their subconscious like a VR amusement park.

You can sort of reconstruct the evolution of this weirdness: The book has actual factual ghosts in it. Well, that’s fine for books, but TV isn’t allowed to have ghosts. But TV can have people who imagine ghosts, so long as it’s all in their heads. Okay, but you know jumping bodily into those imaginations isn’t actually a thing real people can do, right? Well, then let’s make it scientific. How can that be scientific? I don't know, it’s psychiatry. I don’t think that’s psychiatry. Look, it could be. Well, it’s definitely not psychiatry in 1930s Shanghai, and that’s the set we’re allowed to film on. Okay, what if it weren’t actually Shanghai? What if it weren’t actually 1930? What if all of this were at best a weird approximation of the period that adheres to no rules except the ones we want?

Once you’ve thought that, the sky’s the limit.

The show has a very inconsistent grasp on reality, and I am listing that as a pro instead of a con because I am choosing to embrace it as a deliberate choice rather than assume it’s the result of craven incompetence. There's something to be said, though, for how pervasively inconsistent it is. It'd be one thing if there were just a few plot holes here and there (and there are), but this is more along the lines of: We woke up in a mysterious boat and got taken to an island with a giant sea monster skeleton on the shore! What's that all about? Couldn't say! Was it real? Maybe! Moving on!

Let the number of "it's fine! who knows!" comments I've made throughout this rec indicate how much this is the kind of show you just have to roll with. If you are a nitpicker or someone who is troubled by unexplained nonsense, this is not the thing for you. If you love artistic magical realism and high strangeness, you will eat this up with a spoon.

And the lampshade that hangs over all of this worldbuilding is...

5. THE STUPIDEST POSSIBLE ENDING EVER

Okay, usually I am coy about when I think an ending has problems. I am going to drag this one out front and center: Psych-Hunter has an ending so jaw-droppingly, head-clutchingly stupid that I'm actually listing it as a selling point, because it has to be seen to be believed.

When I first watched it, I suspected the show ran out of time or money or something and just had to slap together the quickest possible ending ever. But no! This is the ending they meant! If you go back to the rest of the series, you can see that this is what they were (kinda) setting up the whole time! They just set it up so poorly and decided to make the twist hit at such a late point that not only is it complete nonsense, it actually renders moot the entire emotional stakes of the show! Absolutely incredible!

Now, as I've said before in other places, I don't begrudge the actual twist itself. I mean, it's stupid on its face, but I think they could have done something with it — if they'd had it happen halfway through the series, when the characters would have had time to adjust to the new knowledge. Instead, they slap it on at the last possible moment, when there's no time to have any reaction to it. It's just jarring and baffling, and then the whole thing's over.

I've seen lots of people say "season 2 when???" Season 2 never, friends. There was never going to be a season 2. The only reason you think this was an even remotely acceptable narrative move was that you were assuming that this would be the midpoint, not the end. You're having the same reaction I did, only I can tell this was always meant to be their spectacular dismount.

(To me, it's clear what happened: They J.J. Abramsed themselves into a cool premise for a mystery with no idea how to solve it, hoping they'd figure it out along the way. When they got to the end and still hadn't figured it out, they simply ... opted out of solving it.)

Now, if you want a normal viewing experience out of this show, watch to the end of the next-to-last episode, close your browser window, and have imagination adventures about how you think all the mysteries should resolve. But you're not going to. You are going to continue on to that last episode, and you are going to realize that nothing I could have said here could possibly have prepared you for this. And somewhere, I am going to feel the urge to cackle wickedly and not even know why. Except I'll know why. We'll both know why.

Want to watch this hot mess?

That baby's an iQiyi exclusive! But you can watch the first episode on YouTube, if you feel like getting a taste that way.

Look, I know I may have spoiled my pitch somewhat with that last selling point. After all, why would you bother watching a series if you know it has a shit ending?

I refute your objection thus: Knowing it has a shit ending changes the whole game, because it removes the feeling of betrayal that hits upon your discovering that the ending isn’t what you wanted. You know that already now, so there can be no betrayal. The ending goes from being an unpleasant surprise to being exactly the unexpected thing that you expected. With that in mind, you can dive right in (ha ha) knowing that you’ll never get the closure you crave, and therefore whatever you make up along the way is perfectly valid.

This is obviously a turnoff if you prefer shows that are like seeing someone start a magic trick, perform it without breaking a sweat, and walk off calmly, leaving you wondering how on earth they accomplished such an amazing thing. Think of this more as someone starting a magic trick, accidentally letting the rabbit fall out of their hat, saying “I meant to do that!” like thirty times, and suddenly vanishing through a trapdoor, leaving you wondering what the trick was even supposed to be in the first place — but they were really good-looking and well-dressed, so at least whatever they were doing was nice to look at while it was happening.

See? They're having fun.

[zapreportsblog]

The Secret Revealed

➥ summary: Mash didn’t think anyone would find out his secret, too bad someone did

➥ a/n: someone once asked me to disclose where I’ve gotten all of my art from for my stories, as well as tag the artists. Sadly, all the pictures I use for my stories, or even the gifs I use come from either Google or Pinterest. Also, I just finished watching this anime so hopefully I got something correct . I appreciate the unwavering support you all have shown me so thank you for reading :)

➥ mashle magic and muscles / mash burnedead x reader

On the outskirts of the majestic city of Evervale, nestled amidst the lush greenery, stood the prestigious Magic Academy, a school renowned for honing the magical abilities of young witches and wizards. Among its students was a young man named Mash Burnedead, who, despite coming from a long line of powerful sorcerers, found himself burdened with a dark secret.

•••

On a bright morning, the school's training grounds were buzzing with students fervently practicing their magical arts. Mash was amidst the crowd, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to conjure a simple levitation spell. But no matter how hard he tried, the faintest glimmer of magic eluded him, leaving him frustrated and disheartened.

As he practiced, a mysterious figure caught his eye. A girl with captivating eyes and a determined expression was making her way toward him. Mash recognized her as (Y/N), a fellow student he had often seen around the campus.

Feeling a knot forming in his stomach, Mash couldn't help but wonder what she wanted. He had always been a reserved and introverted young man, preferring to keep to himself and avoid unnecessary attention. The prospect of being confronted by someone, especially about his secret, sent his heart racing.

Approaching him, (Y/N) stopped a few paces away, her gaze locked onto his eyes, making him feel exposed and vulnerable. He tried to smile, but it came out more like a nervous twitch.

"You," she said, her voice carrying an unusual mix of curiosity and confidence, "I know your secret."

Mash felt the world around him momentarily freeze. His secret was something he had kept hidden from even his closest friends and family. Panic gripped his heart, and his mind raced through possible scenarios.

"W-What secret?" Mash stammered, his voice barely audible.

The girl's lips curved into a knowing smile, adding to Mash's anxiety. "Don't play innocent with me. I know you have no magic," she said, her tone unwavering.

His secret was out. It felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty. How had she found out? Was she going to expose him to the entire school, ridiculing him for his inability to wield magic?

Feeling cornered, Mash tried to think of a way out. "I-I can explain," he stammered, his mind searching for the right words. "It's not what you think. I just... haven't unlocked my powers yet."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by his explanation. "Really?" she retorted, her voice laced with skepticism. "You've been at this school for years, and you still haven't unlocked your magic? Come on, it's time to be honest with yourself."

Mash's shoulders slumped, defeated. The weight of his secret was crushing, and he felt a mix of shame and vulnerability. He had always felt like an outcast, trying desperately to fit in with the magical talents that surrounded him.

Before he could muster the courage to ask her what she intended to do with this newfound knowledge, (Y/N) surprised him with her response. "But I won't tell anyone," she said, her expression softening. "Your secret is safe with me."

Her words were like a lifeline, pulling him from the depths of his despair. Mash was taken aback by her unexpected kindness. He had prepared for the worst, but her understanding and assurance gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Why would you keep my secret?" he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.

(Y/N) gave him a small smile, her eyes full of empathy. "Because I believe that people should be defined by their character, not just their magical abilities. I see more in you than the absence of magic. Let's keep this between us, alright?"

Gratitude flooded Mash's heart, and he nodded earnestly. "Thank you," he whispered, overwhelmed by her generosity.

As she turned to leave, (Y/N) looked back at him one last time, her eyes filled with a newfound respect. "You're welcome," she replied. "But remember, secrets have a way of shaping us. It's up to you to embrace who you are, magic or not."

With those parting words, she walked away, leaving Mash to ponder the unexpected encounter. Little did he know that this chance meeting with (Y/N) would change the course of his life forever, leading him on a journey of self-discovery, acceptance, and the realization that true strength came from within, magic or no magic.

[princesssarisa]

Musical fandoms and ingenue hate

Is this really such a problem?

There's a YouTuber named Katherine Steele who mostly makes videos about musical theatre, and who has a small video series in defense of ingenue characters, titled "Why Everybody Hates..."

There are four videos in the series: "Why Everybody Hates Cosette" (Les Misérables), "Why Everybody Hates Christine" (The Phantom of the Opera), "Why Everybody Hates Johanna" (Sweeney Todd), and "Why Everybody Hates Maria" (West Side Story).

Some other sources – like TV Tropes, for example – have cited those videos to talk about why these characters are "widely" disliked.

But is it really true? Of all four of those musicals' fandoms, I've only been deep in the Les Misérables fandom, but from what I've seen people say about the others, I had no idea that those ingenue characters got big amounts of hate!

Being indifferent to the character doesn't count as hate, nor does considering her unoffensive but boring.

Do Johanna and Maria get the same kind of real loathing in the diehard Sweeney Todd and West Side Story fandoms that we see in the Les Mis fandom with talk about "that horrid Cosette," "I hate her with a passion," etc?

There is a lot of visceral, venomous Cosette-hate in the Les Mis fandom, or at least there used to be in the '90s and early 2000s. But it has a cause: Éponine. Immature people hate Cosette because she's loved by Marius, when they want him to love Éponine instead. (And to a lesser extent because she "abandons" her father Jean Valjean, but that's more the novel's Cosette than the musical's.)

I know that there's also some Christine hate among Phantom Phans, which is also love-triangle related: they hate her for choosing Raoul instead of the Phantom.

But I had no idea that Sweeney and WSS fans were venomous about Johanna or Maria – are they?

From what little I've seen of Sweeney fans, I've occasionally seen them call Johanna boring or a Mary Sue (and even then, the context has been "I always thought she was, but then [insert actress here] made me appreciate her"). But for the most part, I see people talk approvingly about how she's more complex than an average ingenue, how she can be played as mentally unstable, etc.

And Maria? Yes, there are the people who can't stand how quickly she forgives Tony for killing Bernardo. (Although that complaint only seems to have become widespread with the 2021 film's release – I remember occasionally reading it in the past, but not nearly as much as now.) But apart from that, and from sometimes seeing people call both Maria and Tony boring, I had no idea that anyone hated her! And if you think she had no characterization but "pretty and nice" until the 2021 film, then you've been giving both the stage version and the 1961 film a shallow surface read! She's always had intelligence, playfulness, passion and strength!

I'd like people who have been deep in the fandoms of these musicals to tell me. Is there really a widespread problem of loud, venomous hate for all these ingenue characters, the way there has been for Cosette in the Les Mis fandom? Or is it really just a few people calling them "boring" now and then, with only the love triangles in Les Mis and Phantom making people nastier about Cosette and Christine?

[blackjackkent]

Quick stop to talk to the other bard hanging out in the center of the party.

In the last six months, Rakha has started learning more about how to play actual music as opposed to simply picking at the strings, so she's curious to see this musician, who seems quite adept at his craft. However, she's also wary, because he is an unfamiliar face in this reunion, and she is still careful with strangers.

"Oh. Hello. Let me guess, you've got some suggestions about the music choice," the man says dourly, glancing up from his lute as she approaches.

Rakha's temper has also gotten better controlled over the last six months, and she waits out the flash of irritation at being greeted so peremptorily. But she answers equally curtly - a habit which has not changed in the preceding half-year. "The music's fine. Unwanted guests are not," she says coolly. "Who are you?"

The man grimaces. "You- you've no idea who I am," he groans. "Withers couldn't even find a *bard* that knows who I am."

Rakha debates explaining that the vast majority of the people she does know are standing in this clearing right now. But instead she just shrugs and looks at him steadily. "Go on, then," she says. "What's your name?"

"Milil," the man says acerbically. "Though if the lack of song-prayers is anything to go by, that name carries less weight than it used to. I'm washed up, I'm afraid."

Narrator: [RELIGION] You feel a pang of divine guilt. Musical prayers went out of fashion among bards when Milil, Lord of Song, offended the god Cyric and was ejected from the pantheon.

(A/N: LOL. I'm gonna go ahead and say Rakha learned this from some bard in the city from whom she's been learning a bit about the actual way to play the lute, because I can't think of any other way she would have picked it up. It also occurs to me that she never had occasion to figure out that Withers is Jergal, so this is a bit more of a surprise than it was for Hector - and we know her feelings on the gods, so she's a lot less impressed than Hector was, too.)

Rakha doesn't know quite how to respond to this. She blinks a few times, rapidly, trying to determine whether she ought to somehow pretend she recognizes the man, or sympathize with his obscurity, but no response comes to mind. She supposes that telling him that he is probably better off having lost his divine status probably wouldn't go over well.

"I'd like you to play a different song, please," she says, changing the subject with all the delicacy of a brick through a plate-glass window.

Milil sighs. "Go on then. What should I play?"

(A/N: I was excited because there's a dialogue tree in the files here where you can request he play a song honoring a dead companion - including Alfira, which I thought would be nice. But then I realized that that conversation path is marked "deprecated." While I could, I suppose, bring it in anyway out of the files, I think it's kind of funnier this way. XD )

Rakha hesitates. She hadn't thought this far ahead in the conversation, and realizes now that she hasn't the foggiest idea what any of the songs he's been playing are called, let alone what she might suggest to replace them.

"Actually, what you were playing before was perfect," she says awkwardly.

Mili gives her a narrow look. "Suppose I'll get back to it then."

[no-passaran]

a few years ago, someone in university told me she didn't want to be friends (we had met up for coffee once) because I'm *xyz sign* and her experience has been that *xyz sign* tend to be emotional master manipulators, they like to play the victim in situations where they caused the drama. Obviously every person is entitled to whatever boundaries they want to have for friendship and dating but it's not ok to just accuse me of being a certain way on grounds of... the date I was born lol.

Like I used to think this stuff was ok as long as people didn't take it seriously, and as long as it's just "oh I'm a *xyz* that is why I'm artsy :-)" but now I honestly just want nothing at all to do with it, and I don't want to know anything about it either.

Wow, I'm so sorry you were told that. Thank you for sharing your experience.

Astrology is a form of bigotry, after all. Assuming that a whole demographic (people born in x time) share a series of personality traits, assigning those personality traits to people you've never even met because of this aprioristic belief about their demographic. It's the definition of bigotry.

In Western society, astrology is less of a problem than other discriminatory systems (racism, sexism, homotransphobia, classism, etc) because it's not as widely believed and hasn't become entrenched in the societal organization to be a systemic issue present in the social, cultural, and legal spheres and interpersonal relations that affect us everyday. (That is not the case in other places like, for example, India, where astrology might dictate who you can and cannot marry and where the victim's astrological sign has been used in court to refuse justice to women who have been raped, justifying the man who raped them because women born under certain star positions are believed to be astrologically "bringers of bad luck" and even bringers of death, so they're free game to abuse!)

So I'm not comparing it when it comes to the effects it has, but on a personal belief level it's just as discriminatory. It's as stupid to say "I don't want to be friends with this person because they were born at X time so I assume Y bad things about them" than it would be to make the judgement based on someone's gender, ethnicity, class, etc. There have already been people (in Western countries where we don't traditionally have an astrology-based oppression system) reporting discrimination for their astrological sign: I've heard experiences similar to you with that "friend", but some have even explained how they were not believed about their pain when they could have found out earlier about their illnesses and refused renting a room because the flat bans people of certain astrological signs!

It can seem like it's harmless fun, but this is what the belief is promoting. It's only a logical continuation of believing in horoscopes to start making these generalizations. It also contributes to normalizing these patterns of thought according to which it's "normal" and "truthful" to consider that whole demographic groups share the same traits (that is: bigotry; lowering our guard in front of more serious ones like racism, sexism, etc).

I don't think we should go around shaming people who talk about it, but I am certain that it is a responsibility not to contribute to spreading this form of bigotry, especially now that it's on the rise and becoming more popular among young people. For example, it goes against our interests as queer community to make space for astrology in our events (making people introduce themselves with their name and their sign, or painting astrology as some kind of radical queer thing somehow just because it's trendy??), I think we should stop promoting these beliefs in magazines, and start challenging our friends who believe in it to think of how it works (and how it prepares them for other forms of discrimination).

Idk sorry for answering with such a long text but I'm tired of seeing it rise too and I had a friend who went though that, she got really into astrology because her other friends were into it, and once that anti-scientific proof door was open she got into moon landing denialism and now she believes in conspiracy theories and it's very annoying to talk with her lol.

[greatestwizardofthisage]

assigning each of the bad kids a taylor swift era because i am feeling deprived of tswift content now that she's on break from the eras tour

Kristen: Fearless. I can't even explain why, but to me that album is just so sunny and in my mind it fits Kristen perfectly. I think maybe it's because Fearless was one of the first album I ever really loved, then when I was older the rerecording is what got me back into tswift and I can totally see Kristen going through a similar journey with it where maybe she loves it as a kid but then stops listening to it as she distances herself from her childhood/family, only to fall in love with it again later on. Also I feel like the country vibes fit her well. (She would also LOVE betty but she would pretend it's a lesbian anthem)

Gorgug: Ok this feels controversial but he's a Lover stan. I just fully belive that to his core Gorgug is a lover not a hater and he would un ironically love Lover. Like to me that album is all about having gone through some bad shit and choosing to only carry forward the best of it? And that fits with my perception of Gorgug. ALSO the end of afterglow 'I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things that I hate, or the things that haunt me in the middle of the night' just feels very Gorgug coded to me dont ask me why. However if you've seen any of my other posts about music and the bad kids you know that I wholeheartedly believe Gorgug loves all music so I think he'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite album.

Riz: Midnights. And not just because this kid never sleeps. Bassically I really couldn't decide which album he would listen to because none of them really fit, but then I started thinking about specific lyrics and I think Midnights has the most that he could relate to. I mean 'no one wanted to play with me as a little kid so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since' is about him. You can't change my mind. I do think though that Riz is definitely more invested in all the easter eggs and firguring out which album is coming next over actually listening to her music. Like he would for sure be among the first to figure out all her clues.

Fabian: 1989 and Folklore. I fully to the bottom of my heart belive that until his sophmore year Fabian would exclusivly be listening to pop music, sea shanties, and weird elven music. So obviously he would love the greatest pop album ever made. He wouldn't listen to Folklore until post sophmore character development. Also he would For Sure learn the choreography for the dance in the background of Dress on the Rep tour and recreat it perfectly using his sheet.

Fig: Speak Now. I mean do I even need to explain this? It's the perfect album for Fig. It's the kind of thing she would have loved when she was in her Preppy Cheerleader phase, but it has just enough of that pop punk influence that I feel like she could still appreciate it when she's older. I feel like she would definitly take issue with some of the misogynistic lyrics used in some of the songs, and would be all for the lyric change in Better Than Revenge. Also as I've mentioned many times before, Fig would love Paramore, and would LOVE Castles Crumbling. Like you're going to sit here and tell me that lines like 'They used to cheer when they saw my face, Now I fear I have fallen from grace' + 'Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far, I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart' + 'Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off, And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret' + 'People look at me like I'm a monster, Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name, Now they're screaming that they hate me, Never wanted you to hate me' weren't written by Figueroth Faeth? I also just think songs like Never Grow Up and Long Live would perfectly fit with her not so secret sentimental streak.

Adaine: Evermore and Folklore. I think theres just a sort of elegence to these albums that really reminds me of Adaine. I also think theres so much vulnerability in them and a lot of the songs touch on feelings of not being good enough for others (mirrorball, tolerate it, this is me trying, right where you left me) that I think she could relate to not from a romantic relationship standpoint but from all the expectations placed on her by her parents. I also think that although these are probably the most low key of tswifts albums, they have some good angry songs (no body no crime, illicit affairs, mad woman) that she would definitly love. But yeah this is mostly based on aesthetics. Evermore and Folklore were albums written with a quill and Adaine is the kind of girl to appreciate this.

[serpentine-saboteur]

"Oh, welcome back."

Hello hello!! My name is Bee, and I am the operator/mun of this blog! I use any neopronouns, this includes many varieties of pronouns, but you can use it/its or nacht/nachts mainly! I will state this at a forefront: basic criteria will be used here, use your common sense. And, the views of Sebastian do not reflect my own. I am separate from the character I play.

A thing of importance! If you are followed by an account by the name of "bees-among-the-okami", that is me! It is my main/personal, as this account is a sideblog. Below the "Read More" are my rules and the shorter description of my version of Sebastian!

RULES

I only really roleplay with those that I have as mutuals, just to be sure of equal interest on both ends. As well as, I do not rush rps, in both aspects of the word. I will not race through relationships, nor will I rush you! I would appreciate not being rushed either!

As an addendum to this, it may take me a while to reply to rps, my motivation comes and goes, as is the horrors of AuDHD. But I will try my best to keep in contact!

A second addendum to this are asks! I am down to roleplay responses to asks, though I will only create "threads" with mutuals branching from said ask!

This goes as well for "password locked" roleplay blogs, I will only send the password if we are mutuals!

As I follow from a personal blog, I will not block those on the other end! Personals are also allowed to send asks! I will not create threads with personals, though. We need to talk first beforehand! My DMs are open!!

Minors are NOT ALLOWED on the blog. I am 19, and though nothing will tread into sexual territory here, it's mainly for ease-of-mind for me.

If anything comes up, there will be rules added! Thank you for reading.

Please send a "🐟" in DMs or in your first Ask so I know that you've read these!

CHARACTER

Sebastian Solace is a male leviathan-esque creature created by Urbanshade, directing the experiment on him to the Hadal Blacksite. Before he was twisted into his new, serpentine form, Sebastian used to be human, 19 years of age and attending college for a major in engineering and a minor in music. He used to have passions, a love for electric guitar, for creating, for his family.

That's what he used to be. A person. An individual with humanity. Now it's been ripped away from him.

Slinking among the shadows of the Blacksite is how he travels, gathering data and supplies in exchange for the former. He's sharp and bitter, having learned that vulnerability is like sticking your neck out for the guillotine. And if he has to become cold to protect himself? Fine.

The scientists call him Z-13, The Saboteur... but he'd much rather his own name.

(My iteration of Sebastian is much more creature-like, as per the DNA he was experimented with as such! <- is crazy about speculative biology <3]

(Information on him is located in my promo: here!)

[ifishouldvanish]

(sorry, one more bc it's been on my mind for a long time)

I worry though, about... the dynamic. Can someone really find and bond with another through their grief and loneliness, without this grim depression they share becoming *worse?*

For me, personally, whenever I think about them... I think there's going to be a level of catharsis. They have something that would be very hard to find in another living being, and a certain love for humanity and the past that would be difficult to find among vampires, and this shapes them into shattered pieces which fit together. But would they still be able to find happiness? It kind of feels like they're two damaged clocks that have coincidentally been stuck on the same minute and hour hand. Would they be able to heal and move time forward?

Okay so like!!!!

I see it less about bonding over the shared grief itself and more about what their responses to that grief have exposed in each of them. Like, in the beginning and on the surface level, yes. It is the grief and loss and loneliness that brings them together. But they are foils!!! I'm telling you!!! They can learn from each other!!!

I've mentioned probably all of this before in scattered pieces across all my posts at some point but!! I think the lowest common denominator, the core of their dynamic, lies in how they seem to have established their senses of self.

Alucard struggles with how not to define himself by his father, and then having to define himself in opposition to his father. "Slave to our families' wishes" etc. And when that chapter of his life closes he's like, "welp, guess I'll just entomb myself here 🤷" until Trevor and Sypha are like "what?? Dude no??" And he's like "oh haha I guess you're right, I can uphold the legacy of the best parts of both of my parents!!" And they're like "ya!!" But then a month goes by without anyone coming round to say "hey!!! Share that knowledge with me!! Fulfill the role you've given yourself" and he is just... so fucking bored and unfulfilled?

He needed they-who-shall-not-be-named to come along so he could fill that role, needed Greta to come along so he could fill that role. He tells Greta about how rescuing others sort of fills a void for him/gives him purpose, which is honorable, yes. But like... It's also so sad imo?? This comfort in denying his sense of self? "I don't know what to do with myself, just gimme a shout if the world ever needs saving again"?? Like Alucard, honey, babygirl, sweetheart... you need to learn to live for yourself 🥺

Olrox on the other hand is... not selfish exactly, but he knows what he's about and he refuses compromise himself. You killed the only man I ever loved? Okay, then I'm killing you, and no, I don't care if your nine year old son witnesses it. You want the juicy story of why that boy is terrified of the big bad vampire? Okay, but you will learn about my humanity first so you can sit with your cognitive dissonance about it later. You think I'm just going to throw myself at your feet because you promise us all eternal night? How about you kindly go fuck yourself? You happily stump for Erzsebet because she promised you that she'll create a world that will allow you to relive your glory days? Couldn't be me!

Like obviously we have a much more limited viewpoint for Olrox because we know so much less about him and his past, but this is not a guy who's waiting for someone to give him a purpose. He acts alone, he doesn't play nice with others, he has his own agenda, and is even a little bit of a hedonist: investigating the relationship between the abbot and Erzsebet? Might as well fuck a hot monk while I'm at it. I said eat the rich, but I might as well look good doing it. You hate/fear me cause I killed your mom? Get over it already. You think the opera singing night creature is annoying? Well, I'm familiar enough with opera music to know he's actually reading you all for filth, so I think it's great!

I think at the end of the day, Alucard is a character who defines himself by others, not understanding why he still feels so empty and alone. And Olrox is a character who defines himself by his own terms, but in being caught between both human and vampire worlds has learned to push people away because he thinks he is better off that way. But by the end of the season, his worst fear is realized: I cannot do this alone. I am at the mercy of someone else's help.

But Olrox isn't like anyone else Alucard has rescued before. He's a fellow vampire. He's a fellow immortal. He's going to be around for as long as he is. And maybe, in that time, a little bit of that ego can start to rub off on Alucard. Maybe he can learn to live for himself without apology, without feeling like he has to atone for the sins of his father. Maybe, just maybe, he can learn to exist outside of the role of the mythical savior.

Because Olrox doesn't want one of those—heaven's no. He can take care of himself, thank you very much. But what if he could learn he doesn't always have to? Who better to restore his faith in the world than the guy who has his mother's conviction that all of this mess is worth saving so deeply ingrained in him that it's been the primary source of his identity for centuries?

I'm starting to ramble here so I hope this is coherent, but in conclusion: they would be so restorative for each other and look so hot together and that is why I believe in Alurox supremacy 🙏