#although often Vy is there too.

[skylinesnsunshines]

pac: what's your next significant partner like? -`♡´-

disclaimer: all for entertainment purposes only, free will exists and energies are subject to change. if it doesn't resonate then it might not be the pile or reading for you. remember that this is a general reading, so i'm channelling the energy of the majority, not a specific individual.

(italicised is the card on the bottom of the tarot deck which is meant to represent the subconscious/blind spot of the situation + rx means reversed)

PILE 1 -> PILE 2 -> PILE 3

photo cr: pinterest | dividers | personal readings | tips

pile 1 ~ queen of wands, the emperor, 8 of wands rx, page of wands rx, 9 of cups oracle cards ~ ceremony: invocation. seduction: attraction, flirting, dating, hooking up, temptation, third-party interference. candle: you will be shown the way, leg: stepping into a new experience.

hello my pile 1's! immediately HEAVY fire energy here, either you or your person could have fire sign placements (mainly feeling leo and aries). i see that this person could be your next romantic interest and that they can deviate from your usual type. this person seems to have a commanding energy and a certain charisma that they embody, and even physically they could be seen as quite conventionally attractive. i believe there is a difference between how people perceive them and who they are within, as their physical presence could impact people's perception of them. sometimes people might think they're "too good to be true" and people could find it difficult to keep their attention. their mind or attention might be sporadic, so this seems to be the person that's "difficult to pin down". they're giving the eldest child energy and may have been the type to carry a lot of burdens due to their family's expectations of them. they seem to have a silent confidence about them and keep their cards close to their chest. even though they're very fiery and express their thoughts easily, there's a conservative nature about them and they keep what they're truly thinking or feeling to themselves. people in their daily lives could idolise them and see them as the people they want to be or be with. this assertive presence often causes people to be intimidated and create an image of this person that is incongruous with who they truly are. just like fire, this person's energy keeps others warm but they can set themselves alight for their loved ones. to outsiders this person might seem shallow due to their demeanour, but they do this on purpose to weed out those that aren't able to see them for who they truly are. although they are quite fiery, i feel that they might struggle with expressing their anger at times which can cause them to implode. there's a deep layer of sensitivity within this person even sacrificial at times. i'm seeing that you help bring out their lively side and are even childlike at times. they could have had to grow up quickly which is why we have 2 cards tied with royalty here, but with you, they seem to feel more at ease with expressing their impulses.

you might meet this next person at an event or celebration or some kind as it could be a wedding, a party, a concert or something along those lines. i think when you meet them for the first time there's an immediate connection, once you lock eyes you both share the immediate feeling of being like "that's my person". there's this magnetism and instant pull that you feel from this person and you and/or them could feel a sense of flirtyness. i'm seeing your first interactions will have playful banter and a lot of lighthearted flirty energy, they could have other suitors vying for their attention but they don't seem fazed by it as their focus is on you. you had an extra oracle card fall out, which describes stepping into a new experience. this reiterates the idea that this person might not be your usual type, or their background could be different from what you've experienced. when it comes to the candle, again it reiterates the instant attraction that you both have and there's a sense of being drawn to each other with no explanation.

pile 2 ~ 2 of cups, 2 of swords rx, 3 of wands, knight of wands rx, 6 of pentacles rx oracle cards ~ spring equinox: rebirth. palm tree: stability, security, permanence, growth, endurance, flexibility. egg: success is assured with good plans and hard work.

hi there pile 2's! immediately 2 cards with the number 2 jumped out which tells me this person might have significant 2nd house (or taurus) placements. with the 2 of cups, they give me libra energy, as this card usually describes people who love hard and enjoy being in partnerships. tauruses are known to be quite stubborn or hardheaded which is totally the energy i pick up from this person, in my mind's eye i'm seeing "tunnel vision" which tells me that this person could struggle with multitasking and needs to feel like they've accomplished a goal to let it go. seems to be the type of person to not take "no" for an answer (respectfully of course). they seem to not be serial daters and only enter a connection if they feel a sense of stability and long-term potential. they have a clear vision of who they are and who they want to be which is why they don't tolerate anything less. they seem to be quite resourceful with big dreams, but they have a bigger drive which is why success seems assured in their future. i'm hearing that they prioritise working smarter, not harder, and will do anything to ensure success for themselves and their loved ones. i don't see them as opportunistic as their need for energy seems to stem from a lack of mindset that they've had growing up. they feel a sense of accomplishment when they can provide for their parents, partners, friends, etc. which ultimately is the fuel for their drive to success. they seem to only be able to enjoy their success if it's tangible and will do anything to ensure their family's long-term stability. they seem to struggle with staying put and stagnancy, which is why they feel the constant need to reinvent and improve themselves and their life. they always seem to think 2 steps ahead and their self-preservation lies in security for their family. they like to feel depended on, which is why they might struggle with feeling enough for themselves. they feel that their life's mission is for them to be able to provide and make other's proud, i'm unsure if this is due to external factors such as upbringing or if it's their innate nature. i do see your relationship teaching them to live in the present more and to appreciate the little moments.

in the northern hemisphere, the spring equinox usually falls on march 20th-21st whereas, in the southern hemisphere, it usually falls on september 22nd-23rd so these dates could be significant. i feel that this person doesn't like labels and doesn't let them define their identity. they hate to be put in a box and see themselves as an ever-evolving being that is always learning and improving. they could also have more of a provider mindset with the palm tree card, as this card describes an unshakeable figure and security. they pride themselves on their endurance and in their resilience. figuratively, they don't seem fussed if they are behind others because they know they'll eventually catch up or even surpass them anyways. i'm hearing the phrase "it's hard to make it to the top, but it's even harder to stay at the top" which could be a testament to your person's character. they're a planner and could be a very type a personality, they have a life plan and will do anything to achieve it. i do feel they aren't as rigid as you might think, but definitely resourceful. if they can't get to plan b from plan a in a straight line, they'll still get there even if it means that they'll take 20 left turns and 40 right turns.

pile 3 ~ 9 of cups, 5 of cups, knight of pentacles, king of swords, 3 of swords oracle cards ~ full moon: completion. heartbroken: deeply hurt, sad, separation, breakup, feeling lost, grieving, mourning. shield: you need to defend yourself.

hi pile 3's! i definitely pick up a strong masculine energy from this pile, they don't have to exclusively identify as a male but their energy just seems more dominant than most. i think this person is on a journey to find self-fulfilment as they've experienced heartbreaks and difficulties throughout their life. they might come off as a brooding character sometimes, or someone who's more reluctant to share their vulnerabilities. they seem to be a person who has it all, for example, they could be quite intelligent, they have a stable job, or they grew up comfortably, but there is a part of themselves that is missing which they are yearning to find. i think their biggest difficulties lie in their relationships, as i can see someone who has such a tender heart but experiences difficult individuals who aren't able to reciprocate the depth that they can. they have a strong sense of self but have feelings of insecurity when it comes to their relationships, as i'm feeling more romantic connections but it could be platonic as well. due to their heartbreaks, they could come off as standoffish or uninterested, but this is mainly a defence mechanism because they don't want to trust the wrong person. these people might like being approached rather than approaching, as i feel like their hurt stems from their unresolved fear of trusting others. they take a while to open up or pursue any connections, but that's because they want to be 100% sure and don't want to provide you with anything less than their worth. they seem incredibly self-aware but need more time to heal their wounds than you do. i'm seeing you being incredibly kind and encouraging for them, which greatly helps build the foundation of trust between you two. they might be someone who often looks to the past as well, and is hypercritical of their mistakes. i do feel that your relationship will help this wound for them and helps them to trust again. they will really try to improve their boundaries and engage in conversations that stimulate you both intellectually. i'm getting that their love language could be words of affirmation and gift-giving. they will learn to be more able to put their feelings into words and work through their traumas to be the best for you and your relationship.

now they might be born under a full moon or you might meet them during a full moon, or even during a time when you are towards the tail end of a chapter of your life. i'm envisioning that you might meet this person towards the end of a chapter so you both can go through the next chapter together. i feel like you could meet them not long after they've had a heartbreak or are in a period of mourning. this energy isn't full of doom and gloom though, as i feel that you were meant to be in this person's life at that specific time to teach them a lesson about resilience. you seem to be this person's endgame and help heal their wounds regarding relationships, they seem to feel like you are their shield and safe space. although they are extremely capable of defending themselves physically, i'm getting the vibe that you are such a fierce protector of their heart and energy which is rare for them. i feel that you will also teach them a lot about self-worth as i'm hearing someone say "why me?", cause they sometimes feel that you are a godsend and that you're too good to be true. you seem to be the last footnote in their chapter and you revitalise their feelings of romance.

that is all! if you have any feedback, comments, queries or requests please don’t hesitate to reach out to me my ask box is always open. sending you all love, light, positivity and abundance <3 much love

[cowboykento]

giving vs receiving head

minors do not interact!

warnings: explicit, fem bodied reader. oral sex, pet names (good girl, baby, sweetheart,) degradation (from sae.) let me know if i missed anything!

characters: itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, nagi seishirou, reo mikage

masterlist

itoshi sae

prefers receiving. nothing compares to the wet warmth of your throat as you gag around him, struggling to take even close to all of him. he loves pushing your head down to see pretty tears stream down your cheeks.

“fuck, sweetheart,” sae groans, head tossed back but eyes still locked on you. you look utterly and entirely debouched, and yet sae thinks you look the prettiest like this. “choke on my cock like a good slut, won’t you?”

and as much as he thinks you look like an angel, he’ll continue degrading you right up until the moment when he’s about to cum down your throat, when he’ll promptly switch to singing your praise.

“so good, shit, feel so good, baby. g’na cum now, okay? right into that pretty little mouth of yours. be a good girl and take it, sweet thing,” he breathes out as his hand keeps you in place, choking on him as he shoots his hot, sticky cum into your mouth.

looks at you with hearts in his eyes after he sees you swallow his cum. he pulls you up to sit on his lap, hands cupping your face as he kisses you, still able to taste some of himself on your tongue.

itoshi rin

prefers giving. now this is gonna go with my personal headcanon that rin does not have a dominant bone in his body so if you’re not into that…

god but he loves going down on you, loves proving that he’s the best you’ve ever had, or will ever have. looks up at you from between your legs with wide eyes, vying for praise to fall from your lips. or for you to tell him how pathetic he is for enjoying this so much.

“you’ll never get enough of this, will you, rinnie?” you coo at him, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head as he sucks and licks your clit like it’s all he knows how to do.

rin moans a “no,” into your pussy. you’re so close and you know that rin knows it too, by the way his actions have grown desperate.

“you’re so good at it, though, aren’t you?” you moan loudly, your fingers scratching as gently as you can manage at his scalp. “fuck, yeah. you’re the best at this, baby. so good for me.”

he’s so needy the second you finish because he’s been impossibly hard the entire time and just can’t wait to sink into you.

isagi yoichi

prefers giving and he’s kind of mean about it. if there’s ever a time where you cum before isagi’s had the chance to eat you out he’s pissed about it (even if it’s his own fault.) lives for pleasuring you like that, and seeing you so fucked out and nearly brainless by the time he’s ready to give you his dick.

he’s got a vice grip on your thighs as he licks your clit, fingers prodding at your hole. knows exactly when you’re about to cum because he’s been between your legs so often. if he’s feeling mean he’ll stall it out—pull his mouth and fingers away the second before you reach your orgasm just so he can keep eating you out.

wipes your tears away as you cry because he’s so mean, “oh my poor baby,” he coos, although it’s equally as condescending as it is sweet. “you know i’ll let you cum eventually, why be impatient?”

gives you the sloppiest kisses every time after you cum. your juices are all over his face, lips, and chin, but that doesn’t deter either of you as your lips crash and tongues swirl together.

“taste so good for me, baby,” he groans into your lips as you grab at his dick, which is still in his pants but noticeably hard. “what, you wanna return the favor? nah, ‘m not done tasting you yet. be a good girl and hold your legs open for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

nagi seishirou

prefers receiving and god he thinks you’re just an angel when you go down on him. he’ll hold your hair back and brush any tears off of your cheeks and he looks at you like you hung the stars.

his heart swells because he loves getting taken care of and you’re always so sickeningly sweet with him it makes his head spin a little.

“that feel good, sei?” you ask as you pull off of him, getting a breath of air in before taking his dick back into your mouth. he moans wantonly, with no restraint and so much desperation. you don’t ask the question genuinely—anyone with a set of eyes or ears knows how good you’re making nagi feel, but you like to tease him every once in a while.

when he’s super close and maybe it’s been sooo long since you’ve treated him like this and he can’t help but grab your hair and buck his hips up, forcing you to gag on his length.

“ngh- sorry, pretty girl, can’t help it,” he whines. “you treat me so well sweetheart, suck my cock so well.”

falls in love with you a little bit more every time you swallow his load and look at him with hearts in your eyes.

reo mikage

prefers giving, but only barely. he loves both, but the way you pull his hair and moan and cry for him is what makes giving his favorite.

“oh, fuck,” you moan, fingers entwined in his hair, pulling more harshly than you really mean to. every sound and word you make goes straight to reo’s head, making him feel absolutely intoxicated. “feels so good, reo, so good.”

and as much as he loves when you cry about how good he’s making you feel, he loves it just as much when you degrade him just a bit; it makes him desperate, like he needs to make you cum on his tongue or he’ll die.

“you’re so needy, aren’t you, sweetheart?” you coo at him, your hand holding his hair away from his face tenderly. he moans into your pussy because you’re right—he is needy, he needs you to tell him, or show him, how good he’s making you feel.

and because he enjoys both giving and receiving, reo is an avid enjoyer of 69. nothing gets him off quicker than feeling your mouth on him and being able to lick and suck your pussy at the same time. his very own version of heaven.

yay flair finally posts again on the account i made months ago !!! hope u enjoy let me know if you want a part 2/ what characters u want in part 2 😋😋

commissions open!

[moonlight-prose]

STRANGE ADDICTION

➻ 01. BEAUTIFUL DEATH

a/n: i have rewritten this chapter about two times just to get it right. i want it to feel like the show, but also i'm a perfectionist when it comes to posting in a new fandom. this story has been in my head since s1 dropped and well it feels great to finally put it somewhere. even if the love for silco has sorta died down. i've had the most fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

summary: dinner with an old friend leads to revelations about your past. about whether you chose the right path - the future meant for you. or if time indeed stands still beyond what science and magic tells you.

word count: 4.5k+

pairing: silco x f!reader; viktor x f!reader (platonic)

warnings: not explicit, angst, friendships, flashbacks, arguing, hesitation to tell the truth, pining (not by reader), the haunting of past relationships.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The sun beat down harder than ever before. A bright scorching ball of light that seemed intent on searing through the fabric of your gown. Although you weren't entirely opposed, given the weight of the material that clung to your skin.

It seemed that the sun favored topside more than anywhere else. You'd known this for a while, your eyes fixed on the horizon at each turning of the clock. Dusk assumed its duties for the day, bringing forth the moon that hid until the time was right to reveal herself. Flames licked across the sky and suddenly you were a child again. Stunned by the magnificence and beauty of something so normal.

When you were younger you held the belief that only those in the grand city would be able to witness this. To watch as sunset broke along brilliant blue before sinking below—away from the towers of the grand house.

Although the term house felt humble and dishonest given the lavish setting. Castle seemed like a better word. Or kingdom.

Piltover. The land of progress.

How ironic that just below the surface lay the vastness of a city that thrived on the opposite. You felt like royalty amidst the opulence around you. Someone who was crowned long ago by the people who deemed you worthy enough. Yet it wasn't that long ago that you were a young kid vying for a glimpse at a clear sky. Topside rarely accepted those that didn't belong; unsurprising but still a bitter disappointment.

How you managed to trick them—fool their wits—into allowing you access escaped you.

This felt too extravagant. So unlike the person you once knew. It felt fictional. A tale as old as time now finally bestowed upon someone like you.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, eyes wide at the brilliant orange that painted itself over pinks and yellows.

A voice echoed in the distance, someone calling your name, and with a sigh you were pulled away from the ambience of this view. You preferred a chance to stay here but you recognized the lilt of his voice, the familiar drawl of his words. With a sigh you let go of the balcony railing and turned towards the room you were staying in. His room. He offered and gave no room for an argument.

That didn't stop you from trying.

"Dinner is being planned," he announced, balancing his weight on the cane held in his tight grip.

"All this trouble isn't necessary." Pulling the chair by his bed close, you took the opposite one with a grin. "I'm not that important."

He huffed, long and loud enough to keep you quiet. "I don't see you often enough. Dinner is the least I can do."

"Viktor–" His hand went up before you could state your case—the argument ready to fly off the tip of your tongue.

"I've argued with you enough over the years to know when you will start." His smile is warm, an old piece of the past that still resides in the back of your mind.

"I call that an unfair advantage," you muttered.

"I would call it strategy."

"Strategy requires the mind of a politician," you joked. The words rolled out of your mouth with ease as you scrutinized the man before you.

He shrugged. "I've got politician friends."

"Right."

Over the years you often wondered where your paths might cross again. Where on the timeline of your lives Viktor would once more become your ally. You both found one another in your younger years—when things were simpler. The time in your life where you were starting to be recognized for your mind and him with his mind.

Two intellectuals forged in the fires of the Undercity. At one point in your life this might have felt humorous. Almost ironic.

Now you tried to grasp at what kept the two of you together. Especially since your step back away from the atmosphere of progress.

"I–"

"While you are here, would you mind—uh—looking over the research I have accumulated over the years of your absence?" The notebook he draws from the table beside him is crammed with scraps of paper. The binding was ready to burst at the seams. A sight that so utterly and undeniably the young man you met in the Undercity. "I trust your intelligence more than mine sometimes."

You could recall the hours spent pouring over books, each one filled with information you never thought you'd have the opportunity to learn. They brought the both of you closer to something that he felt would do the world some good. Knowledge was power in Piltover—you simply learned to utilize it for your own good. As a way to escape the past you tried your best to ignore.

Flipping to the first bookmarked page, you attempted to discern his writing. At times it was illegible, but you knew it better than yours. After years of looking at the same scratch marks and symbols, you were able to pick through Viktor's work with ease. Your heart stuttered at the research before you—the truth that rang silently in his hopeful expression.

"You want to find a power source?" you exclaimed, glancing up to see his eyes grow apprehensive.

Of course he would be wary about this. Every line scribbled, each night of hard work, all amounted to his life's legacy. The weight of his name was placed on loose pages and ink that bled between the compact journal. Running your finger over the foreign symbols etched onto each page and margin, you felt their power—the meaning behind each mark made.

"Viktor it's..." You wanted to call this emotion pride but the word felt minuscule given how much effort had been put into this. "Magnificent."

He grinned, settling back with a sigh of relief. "My partner Jayce—who you will meet tonight—has made a remarkable discovery."

"Remarkable is putting it lightly," you cut in, absentmindedly following the curve of the largest rune on the page, marking it in your memory.

Ducking his head, you watched his hands clasp together tightly, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of his wrist. "I have to do something...that will help."

That much you could understand.

"Ever since I've known you–" Shifting, you felt the skirt of your gown tug upwards—your leg exposed to the slight chill in the evening air. "You wanted to be remembered as a great scientist. Someone whose mind would be their legacy. I think you're closer to that than you think."

He scoffed. "I only told you that to stop the questions."

"About where you came from? Or something else."

The silence gave you enough of an answer. Explanations of his past came with little to no details. Merely stories that were fleeting, sinking beneath the depths long before you got a chance to figure them out entirely. He remained a mystery to you even now. Although...you couldn't say you were any different.

"Did you ever want that for yourself?" He leaned closer, his gaze attempting to pry beneath the depths of your mind.

"No," you breathed, catching one last glance at the sky. "It has always been better for my name to die with me."

"That I don't believe."

"No?" His eyes burned into the side of your face. A silent plea to finally let him in on the secret. To spill about the past you couldn't even accept for yourself.

Even as the years passed quicker than you could comprehend, Viktor never changed. Despite his age now surfacing across his face, he still felt familiar with each new slight wrinkle and faint mark that hadn't been there before. Beneath the fancy clothing and grim expression, he was still the boy you once knew. The ravenous scientist with a hunger to know more.

A man on a never ending journey for knowledge.

"You're brilliant," he said. "You always have been. I never quite understood why you chose to only be a..."

"A healer?" He nodded. "I didn't fit into Topside as smoothly as you did."

Whether he wished to admit it or not, the turmoil that tore through his body and mind was there. Hiding beneath the surface. Even as he refused to meet your gaze. Time may have intertwined you with him, but his dreams remained different—his hopes were vast enough to drag him away from the life you once knew.

Where he found the grandeur of a scientist working for someone brilliant, you found solace in your small shop surrounded with various concoctions and potions. A space that let you be the person you were always meant to be.

"You're talented enough to make a name for yourself. If you let me talk to the counsel–"

"No." The word sliced the air swiftly, silencing him with the sharp end of a whip.

He froze, drawing you out of the stupor your mind hastened to put you in. Upsetting him was the last thing you wanted, but you knew if he didn't stop now things would already be too late. Viktor had a tendency to escalate matters far more than necessary. It's why you were hesitant to even take his call—to give him leeway back into your life like this.

"Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed and eyes piercing through to the depths of your mind.

The answer lay at the back of your tongue—clear and ready to be pronounced with ease. But saying them out loud felt like a feat you'd never be able to manage.

"There are things in my past that are better left where they are," you replied, brushing off the way he looked at you.

A puzzle yet to be figured out. A math problem that held a solution to fix all that was broken.

But that was the thing...you couldn't be fixed. There remained no potion, no herbal remedy that could heal what had torn you to shreds. Who shattered you beyond repair.

Viktor left to pursue his Topside dreams—his pride in himself larger than anything you'd seen. Yet you remained behind. You stayed in the darkness of the Undercity with the promise to one day find him—to celebrate your dreams together. But that was before the battle plans, before you were recruited to help heal those that couldn't heal themselves. Before...him.

When it came down to it, you found yourself in a life far different from the one you dared to imagine with Viktor. The intention to follow him still existed somewhere as a fading dream that might never come true. But once you grew up, saw the world for how it was, you understood why you would never receive the same welcome he did.

You were a soldier first above it all and that was the one thing he would never know.

The secret you held in the confines of your heart.

"My past is the same as yours," he said. "We come from the same land. Surely if they accepted me, they will do the same for you."

You didn't fall in love with the devil.

The words that would never see the sunlight of Topside.

Reaching forward, you pat his knee in a gesture that offered a friendship despite all the secrets. Viktor would do what he wished; you couldn't stop him. That had always been the way of things since you were younger and so it would remain.

Merely two people who once offered to save one another from the bleak aspect of a future ready to eat you alive. Yet now there you were as adults. Sitting close enough to be friends yet miles a part from where you originally started.

You snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him with a reluctant smile. The distaste of keeping him in the dark was pungent in your mouth, but this choice wasn't up to you to decide. It was always a mutual agreement between two people that were forced to be parted. He wouldn't speak about what happened and you'd do the same.

You were always meant to become a ghost of the Undercity and he a ghost of Topside.

Two fates that were never to intertwine again.

"Tell me," you said, moving to the still open balcony doors. "What's your partner Jayce like?"

He straightened in the chair, relief crossing his face at the realization that he hadn't offended you by pushing too far.

"You will like him."

"Oh I don't know about that," you drawled, a sly smile crossing your lips. "Don't you recall the night of the dinner party?"

He cringed as the memory of that disastrous debacle came to mind. You got into it with a certain doctor he befriended—a man with an ego large enough to choke the very air out of any room. The night ended with you unceremoniously chucking your drink into the man's face to save yourself the harsh act of slapping him. You refused to see Viktor for weeks—your own self worth having been burnt to the ground and defiled.

"I did not know he was going to insult you the way he had."

Scoffing, you leaned your back against the balcony railing. "You knew he wasn't good."

"Unfortunately that I did know." He stood on shaky legs, the clack of his cane against marble echoing off the walls as he joined you. "I can promise that Jayce is nothing like that."

"I'll determine that for myself." You sighed, glancing up at a darkened sky—the stars shimmering bright enough to rival the moon. "Besides, dinner is just us, right? Not a surprise interview to induct me into your hall of science. Because as flattered as I am–"

His laughter spilled over into your chest as he nudged your shoulder with his. "There will be no inducting. Not if you don't wish for it."

"Good." The clock across the room ticked away with expedited force—as if speeding up the flow of time to get you out of here. Yet you found yourself longing to stay, to remain in this small bubble. "Does he know who I am?"

"He knows what I've told him."

"All good I hope," you humored him, offering a placating smile that could be mistaken for charm. In the hopes that you'd make it through this night unscathed.

"There may have been a few stories." Swatting his shoulder, you ignored the shift he made towards you. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." You clutched the railing behind you until your knuckles hurt, your gut filled with the foreboding dread that came with treading the waters of your past. "I'm perfectly okay," you replied confidently.

Even if the words rang with the transparency of a lie.

Piltover at night held no comparison after witnessing the beauty of sunset. Yet after three glasses of wine and a dinner large enough to feed the village, you felt the thrill of excitement fill your chest at the thought of exploring parts you'd yet to see. Looping your arm around Viktor's you fell into step beside him—mere feet behind Jayce and a woman they introduced as Mel.

Of course, you knew who she was. Everyone in the city knew her name, but for the sake of a peaceful dinner void of any politics, you didn't make that fact obvious.

"It was a nice dinner," you said, the breeze off the water skimming the bare skin of your back.

"We should do it again." His voice remained steady, like a piece of home you never thought you'd get back. His eyes however...screamed something entirely different.

A divot in the road you weren't prepared for—one you didn't see yourself wanting.

"We should," you agreed, finding a spot against the railing. The blue of the ocean gleamed beneath the light of the moon. Truly Piltover at its finest. "Maybe next month?"

The irritated sigh slipped past his lips before he could reign it in, but that was all you needed to understand his intentions. You'd been afraid of this since you came to visit him the very first time. An execrable feeling weighed heavy in your stomach as time went on and his silence prevailed.

He stood beside you now with hope in his heart. The voices of Jayce and Mel faded into the background as they walked further away. And you were left with the friend you never wished to lose—the boy you longed to keep knowing.

"I haven't said—I should have said it already but–"

"Viktor," you interrupted, standing upright.

Suddenly the wine and the excessive amount of food didn't sound like a good idea after all. Your heart pounded against your chest, reverberating through your entire body—each nerve alight and waiting for the worst possible scenario to this outcome. He'd been your oldest friend, someone you counted on when you had no one else and the thought of ruining that left you feeling sick.

Each second he looked at you as if you held all the answers to what he pined for made your heart twist painfully.

With a shaky breath, you finally relented to the truth. "I can't."

"What do you mean?" His cheeks flushed vermilion as he fixed his gaze back to the water.

Shutting your eyes to collect your thoughts carefully, you sighed. "I know what you want me—us—to be and I can't...give that to you."

"Oh."

"I do care for you." Somehow the words echoed with hollow deceit, despite how true they felt in your heart.

"It's because of him."

You reared back, startled. "What?"

His eyes—plagued with sorrow deep enough to slice right through you—met yours waiting for a different answer. An explanation as to where your heart belonged. But you stood as still as stone—unable to form thoughts let alone coherent words. He ripped right down to the bone, pulled at your weak tendons and bit down on frayed nerves.

Yet he wasn't done.

"I'm not oblivious. When you finally came to Piltover you wouldn't tell me about what you did when I wasn't there. I only assumed you had feelings for someone. A man you didn't wish to speak about."

You exhaled slowly—the icy chill of relief swallowing you whole. "Oh...yes I...there was someone."

"Do you still love him?"

Glancing across the water, you glimpsed the bridge standing tall—a beacon of this city's hope for progress. But to your eyes it felt like a separation—a division between the two worlds of your life. One filled with enough pain to leave you staggering where you stool and other...a world of grandeur that overflowed with the option of peace.

At one point you had wanted to watch it burn. His betrayal tainted everything good about that place. A scar carved deep enough to leave an everlasting wound that never healed. You longed to forget it—to rid yourself of the memories he plagued—but you still knew one day...you'd stand upon that same ground again.

"I don't know," you breathed, the past clawing its way up your throat—shoving towards the very front of your mind.

BEFORE

The streets were overrun with people as they moved and flowed like the waves on a shore. You felt shoulders knock into you, exasperated glances thrown your way as you fumbled with the plants still gripped in your hands. They grew at the edge of the bridge—hidden in the shadows as a safeguard from the sun. Dirt packed itself beneath your fingernails, mud coating the thin fabric of your pants from where you dug.

"You should really have that looked at," you grumbled, shoving the plant into your satchel.

Garnering no response, you were left to get lost in your own thoughts. Whether or not he was actually in pain didn't concern you. Not when you had a job given by Vander who insisted you focus solely on healing rather than fighting. It's not as if you entirely disagreed with him—you were more than happy being a healer rather than a soldier—you simply couldn't figure how this would help in the long run.

What exactly were you supposed to do when people acted stubborn and brash?

"What are you writing?" he barked, stopping abruptly. You rammed into him with a sneer.

"Nothing that's of any concern to you." Shoving your pen and notebook into the bag, you watched as he huffed in response, turning away. "I'll tell you again since you seem to be hard of hearing. You should really have your wound–" He stopped, eyes flashing over his shoulder with a glare. “–looked at."

"You sure do talk a lot," he snipped.

"It's a gesture of kindness. You don't have to be an ass about it."

How did you manage to get stuck with this man? You were more than capable of sneaking around the border of Topside without anyone's help. Vander assigning you an escort seemed synonymous with the actions of an older brother being overly protective. Yet you weren't related in any way shape or form—you were simply someone who understood the need for change.

Arguing would get you nowhere and so you did your best to ignore his quick glances. Coming up with a correct judgment for what you found took precedence over the man in front of you.

The heat of the day seeped into your clothes—sticking to your exposed skin—the longer you trekked back. If it were possible to steal some time, you'd search for that small pool you and Viktor used to play at—just to submerge yourself in cold water. But with a guard at your side, you were left with only one option. Dreaming about weather cooler than this.

"You're walking too slow," he called over his shoulder.

The desperation for escape called to you, begged you to leave him behind and go somewhere quiet. But before you could sprint in the opposite direction, he turned. Ignoring him didn't seem to be a well thought out solution, but that never stopped you from trying. Even as he glared at you.

What little sunlight remained began to dip below the horizon—a sight you'd neve grow tired of. If only you had the chance to see it over the ocean with a clear sky above.

"You need that fixed before we return." Avoiding the incensed glare directed your way, you settled on the edge of a wall.

"What I need is for you to keep going. So I can go home."

"Listen—whoever you are—I know that when you return you're going to be questioned about why you're in pain. Either you let me patch up that wound or you get Vander. Your pick."

The arguing ceased with a defiant raise of your brows, lips curling into a sly grin that pinned him where he stood. There really was no other option than submission. What was a quick check before you were on your merry way. Much to your delight, he seemed to come to the same conclusion as he joined you on the wall, undoing his vest with an indignant sigh.

Silence filled the empty space between you. Slipping between the cracks and shadows that cast across his angular face. You'd seen him before on the edge of your vision, leaning against the bar with a book in his face—long fingers trailing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you differed.

Where you wanted to roam, he longed to be back making plans with Vander instead of trapped in the task of guard duty for a healer he'd never met before.

"Who shot you?" The glow of sunset illuminated the pale skin beneath his shirt—a long jagged scar etched into the skin threw you off for a moment as your fingers searched for blood.

The sharp wince in his face said you'd found it. "I couldn't see their face."

Nodding, you moved his hand to keep the fabric up and out of the way. A quick rummage in your bag for the salve you made earlier caught his attention—turquoise gleamed in your peripheral, prying you open with enough ease to jar you down to the bone.

"The bullet only scraped you. This should help close it up by the end of the week." You pressed the dark mixture along his wound, catching the subtle flinch he tried to smother. "Sorry."

"I'm fine," he mumbled in a whispered tone.

"I can fix it up properly when we return. Get you a real bandage to keep it from getting worse."

You nearly missed it. That slow imperceptible grin that curled at the edge of his lips. But your eyes latched onto it like a kid with candy, savoring the quick glimpse of something surreal. It threw you off balance, forced you to reckon with the thought of never knowing him before today.

Ethereal. Empyrean.

He sat before you a stranger with the eyes of a fond ally. A friend you had yet to be properly introduced to. It seemed he harbored the same thought—his mouth forming the question as if it fell right out of your head and into his lap.

"You're a friend of Vander?" Slipping his vest back on, you noticed he left it unbuttoned.

You found you preferred it that way.

"So are you. I've seen you...uh...with him. Around the bar you know."

The quiet echo of the water lapping at rocks and voices in the distance didn't feel bitter, but rather settled the nerves leaping beneath your skin. It was nice to sit there and watch the night sky show itself to the world once again. Eventually you'd be forced to return to a life that teemed with a clear understanding that hung over everyone's heads. There would be a fight. An inevitable battle for what you believed was right.

But for this transcendent moment you basked in the few moments of peace life allotted you.

The calm before the storm.

"I don't know your name," you admitted, turning your head slightly to catch his gaze already faced in your direction. "Vander never told me."

If he caught you in the middle of a blatant lie, he didn't call you on it. You could tell he saw right through you—the glint in his eyes shining brighter than moments before. This wasn't a clarification for Vander's sake or the battle. You wanted to know his name for yourself. A small token of the man you may never interact with again save for tonight.

After a moment his voice came with a soft breath of air. "Silco."

Teeth dug into your lip to keep the blooming smile at bay. "Silco," you said under your breath.

He latched onto it, dug his fingers into the tangible feeling they created in his chest, and felt a smile pulling wider at his own mouth. You said it again, unable to stop yourself as a thrill of excitement fluttered at the base of your stomach. So simple, so smooth off the tip of your tongue. Yet filled with enough power to stir your chest with a feeling you wished to inspect further.

The lilt of it hung in the air as you turned back to the sky with a satisfied hum, relishing in the time you had left with him at your side.

[motdo-vn]

Introduction - Midnights of The Drowsy Owl

Visual Novel - Midnights of the Drowsy Owl

DEMO—TBA

Midnights of The Drowsy Owl is a novella magical realism, romance interactive fiction of five chapters. Romance is the foundation of the story, so there are no platonic relationships. It is influenced by mythologies with a lot of twists and turns, and a bit of Romanian influence.

When city life takes everything from you, you leave for a house you inherited from your late grandparents, in a town far away from the troubles of life: Caersolvita.

While strolling through the little town of Caersolvita after job hunting during the odd hours of the night, the old clock in the quaint settlement strikes twelve midnight, and a building down the dirt road illuminates the twilight.

Beads of light fall like stardust through the coffee-scented building. No one knows about it, and even if they did, they cannot find it. When midnight strikes, it all changes. Down the bricked pathway of the town, life clicks into light, and the twinkles of windchimes carry a bitter fragrance.

A “Looking to Hire!” board stands neatly by the doormat of the slightly tarnished place. With little hope of finding a job anytime soon, you enter the cafe. When offered a trainee position as a barista, you leave for home, unknowing of the wonders that await you when the dead hours of the night come about.

Features

Choose your gender: female, male, non-binary

Work at a quaint café in a rural town, shrouded in mystery and solitude.

Unravel the secrets of the midnight café.

Romance one of the four ROs and explore a fresh adventure with one of the three personalities chosen.

Deal with some snappy customers or different oddities.

Find out the history of Caersolvita through each route.

Enjoy a life of quietude and comfort, away from the worries of life.

Personalities: Loveable airhead, Taciturn fool, Sarcastic charmer

Character profile

(Gender-selectable)

Beautiful and dignified, Thana is the peculiar owner of the The Drowsy Owl. Behind the mysterious red eyes and snowy pale skin, the discipline of the body and grace follows each tilt of the wrist, where the whiffs of coffee beans stream along the cafe.

Admired by everyone in Caersolivita for sublime service, coupled with sweet words, Thana is the go-to barista if someone requires comfort or dark humor. Although the sorry state of the cafe, it is the first choice for everyone.

With every smile given to Thana, two more are returned, and with each heart that is offered, the more Thana guards the heart. Somehow, though, the trainee barista has a way with their words.

Unhinged. There is no other word that fits the young wolf-like Ylfa. A shepherdess along the hillside of Caersolvita, she meets each situation with the flash of her canines and a huff. With a beige bonnet laced around the edges, she fancies the lolita fashion, enjoying lavish dresses, contrary to her rambunctious voice. Or she may opt for a pink tank top with a red bow to match.

In the dead of night, a voice like a siren vying for love sings from the northern cliff at the very edge of the town. From the ruffled chestnut brown hair and perky ears gilded by the moonlight, her song willows past till dawnbreak.

Despite the tough and rowdy personality, Ylfa holds her hands close to her chest, sometimes shooting glances towards the trainee barista from the day they met eyes.

Idris (m)

Personal trainer by day, guardsman by night. Idris is often described as "too blunt for his own good." Towering over everyone in town, he is regarded as a dark warrior, a signature black hood hanging over his defined face. Polite and well-spoken, his sharp tongue still manages to overshadow such traits.

By the bridge that connects the mainland to the hook-shaped cliffside town, Idris guards the safety of the people. Always seen next to the old watchtower, most hear grunts from the place, running away in fear.

When he bumped his head against the door of Drowsy Owl, he meets gaze with the trainee barista, and color rose-pink erupts from the steely brown eyes.

Shaylah (nb)

Always smelling like honey and floral concoctions, Shaylah is a local apothecary who resides near the very edge of the cliff. Catching eyes everywhere they go, their sterling red hair shines like the sun under light. Always seen walking around town with a sunhat the size of an umbrella, Shaylah's ethereal voice wrecks the minds of people when their brash and uncouth words begin to lash out.

Spending the afternoon and night cooped up in their house, they take the blue flowers on the cliff, grinding them and creating concoctions. No one outside of the town knows what it truly is, and only Shaylah's family knows of it.

After spending a full day in their shop, taking a rest at midnight by The Drowsy Owl is usually what happens, accompanied by a cup of hibiscus tea. But now, where the bright eyes of the trainee barista caught them off-guard, they never forgot.

[karniss-bg3]

The cult of the absolute doesn't strike me as necessarily caring about the quality of life of its followers given they can just-- brain wash them into thinking it's the best. What kind of living situation do you think Kar'niss was put into? After all-- they made an ogre stay in the same rooms as other races.

Without a doubt, the Absolute are dogshit at cultist accommodations. If they had a Yelp page it'd be one stars down the line. Although I hear the continental breakfasts have their perks; If you don't mind tadpoles in your oatmeal, that is.

When it comes to our dear baby boy I fear he may have it the worst out of anyone, or the best depending on how you look at it. I don't believe he lives at the tower full time. Driders are bloodthirsty and are required to consume blood at least every four days, otherwise their bodies begin to break down and they can die. Unless Ketheric Thorm had a steady system to meet these dietary needs it would require Kar'niss to go out on the hunt for meals. And if there is one thing driders are biologically wired to do, it's hunt...and often.

I believe Kar'niss spends most of his time at the camp where you first encounter him.

This area is large enough to handle his size and secluded enough to where he's rarely bothered. Stationed so close to the mountain pass it also affords him the jump on any foolish enough to enter the Shadowlands. If you enter through the doorway at the back you also find a lot of evidence that this could be his primary feeding nest.

Bloody drag marks, bodies in trees and rock faces and skeletal remains piling up in the cavern below, it's the perfect spot for a hungry drider to enjoy his meal in peace. He likely drags his victims to the tree, drinks them dry and discards the remains for scavengers or fiends to clean up.

I also believe this is the real reason he was given the moon lantern. Not because the Absolute actually favored him, but because out of anyone he would be required to venture into the Shadowlands most often. This elected him as the impromptu guide for any True Souls that wandered to Moonrise.

As for where he sleeps, I doubt he does much if at all. Drow only require four hours of rest with their trance ability, and Kar'niss is still labeled as a drow in his profile. Rest wouldn't come easy to him with so many voices bombarding his mind, vying for attention. So when he's not being tasked by the Absolute to act as a guide or some other side venture, he's either hunting or looming at the top of Moonrise tower to be closer to "Majesty". I have an idea as to how Kar'niss became so thoroughly mind fucked by them, but that's for another post.

If he does stay at the tower primarily it would be just as lonely as the pseudo campsite. Kar'niss is the Ned Flanders of the Absolute (with more murder), and everyone else is Reverend Lovejoy. Sure, they believe and follow faithfully, but Kar'niss is a bit too extra even for them. His constant ramblings, his fanatic devotion and how temperamental he can be make him an unpopular option to hang around. He's likely dismissed or outright ignored. In fact now that I think about it, I don't think a single NPC addresses him by name. The guard at Moonrise calls him 'drider' and that's it. Perhaps Minthara does but I can't recall to save my life. Sad.

Overall I think regardless of where he chooses to hang his web, it's a very isolated existence. The Absolute don't care about him, non-cultists don't care about him, and he has an invisible timer ticking down toward his expiration date. The poor creature is simply too brainwashed and broken to know it.

Thanks for the ask!

[ace-song]

Introduction - Midnights of the Drowsy Owl

Interactive Fiction - Midnights of the Drowsy Owl

Demo (TBD)

Description

When the city life takes everything from you, you leave for a house you inherited from your late grandparents, in a town far away from the troubles of life: Caersolvita.

While strolling through the little town of Caersolvita after job hunting during the odd hours of nights, the old clock in the quaint settlement strikes 12 midnight, and a building down the dirt road illuminates the twilight.

Beads of light fall like stardust through the coffee-scented building. No one knows about it, and even if they did, they cannot find it. When midnight strikes, it all changes. Down the bricked pathway of the town, life clicks into light, and the twinkles of windchimes carry a bitter fragrance.

A “Looking to Hire!” board stands neatly by the doormat of the slightly tarnished place. With little hope of finding a job anytime soon, you enter the cafe. When offered a trainee position of a barista, you leave for home, unknowing of the wonders that await you when the dead hours of night come about.

Features

Choose your gender: female, male, non-binary

Work at a quaint café in a rural town, shrouded in mystery and solitude.

Unravel the secrets of the midnight café.

Romance one of the four ROs and explore a fresh adventure with one of the three personalities chosen.

Deal with some snappy customers or different oddities.

Find out the history of Caersolvita through each route.

Enjoy the life of quietude and comfort, away from the worries of life.

Personalities: Loveable airhead, Taciturn fool, Sarcastic charmer

Romances

Thana (f/m)

Beautiful and dignified, Thana is the peculiar owner of the Drowsy Owl. Behind the mysterious red eyes and snowy pale skin, discipline of the body and grace follows each tilt of the wrist, where the whiffs of coffee beans stream along the cafe.

Admired by everyone in Caersolivita for sublime service, coupled by sweet words, Thana is the go to barista if someone is in need for comfort or dark humor. Although the sorry state of the cafe, it is the first choice for everyone.

With every smile given to Thana, two more are returned, and each heart that is offered, the more Thana guards the heart. Somehow, though, the trainee barista has a way with their words.

Ylfa (f)

Unhinged. There is no other word that fits the young wolf-like Ylfa. A sherpherdess along the hillside of Caersolvita, she meets each situation with the flash of her canines and a huff. With a beige bonnet, laced around the edges, she fancies the lolita fashion, enjoying lavish dresses, contrary to her rambunctious voice.

In the dead of night, a voice like a siren vying for love sings from northern cliff at the very edge of the town. From the ruffled hair and perky ears of the gilded in moonlight, the sound willows past till dawnbreak.

Despite the tough and rowdy personality, Ylfa holds her hands close to her chest, sometimes shooting glances towards the trainee barista from the day they met eyes.

Idris (m)

Personal trainer by day, guardsman by night. Idris is often described as "too blunt for his own good." Towering over everyone in town, he is regarded as a dark warrior, a signature black hood hanging over his defined face. Polite and well-spoken, his sharp tongue still manages to overshadow such traits.

By the bridge that connects the mainland to the hook-shaped cliffside town, Idris guards the safety of the people. Always seen next to the old watchtower, most hear grunts from the place, running away in fear.

When he bumped his head against the door of Drowsy Owl, he meets gaze with the trainee barista, and color rose-pink erupts from the steely brown eyes.

Shaylah (nb)

Always smelling like honey and floral concoctions, Shaylah is a local apocthecary who resides near the very edge of the cliff. Catching eyes everywhere they go, their sterling red hair shines like the sun under light. Always seen walking around town with a sunhat the size of an umbrella, Shaylah's ethereal voice wrecks the minds of people when their brash and uncouth words begin to lash out.

Spending the afternoon and night cooped up in their house, they take the blue flowers on the cliff, grinding them and creating concoctions. No one outside of the town know what it truly is, and only Shaylah's family know of it.

After spending a full day in their shop, taking rest at midnight by Drowsy Owl is usually what happens, accompanied by a cup of hibiscus tea. But now, where the bright eyes of the trainee barista caught them off guard, they never forgot.

[urabrask-the-hidden]

Khelos

Khelos (WUB) is the Domain of domination. Decrepit cities fill its dark mires, where the undead elite of the Dread Council use fear to maintain power. The citizens are fed hyper-nationalistic propaganda, and are kept afraid of the "Unworthy"- whomever the Council needs them to be, but especially outsiders and dissenters. The Council itself is a web of intrigue, deception, and betrayal with each member vying for power, and at the top of it all is Kevronok, the first lich, lord of Khelos and architect of its totalitarian regime.

GOD OF AUTHORITY

In life, Khelos was the god of leadership, rule, and order. Depicted as a regal, bearded man (and occasionally as a vampire), it was he who crowned Kevronok, the first king of Xalior. His name was considered the ultimate source of authority, invoked by peacemakers and tyrants alike. 

It was said that Khelos held mastery over all things, even death. Indeed, certain sects associated him with necromancy- a controversial topic, to be sure, yet undeniable. After all, he aided Kevronok in the creation of the practice, leading the king to become the first lich.

Khelos-the-god is still worshiped in some way, with most towns having a temple to the dead god (although this worship is largely synonymous with reverence for Kevronok). Khelos-the-god is seen as the great history they all share, a source of strength and pride. 

However, they believe that Khelos-the-god was ultimately too weak. He could not control Venhi, god of change, who the Khelosians believe both started the War and killed the God of Order. But his death was necessary, allowing Kevronok, his Heir, to rise and build a stronger society, more resistant to the forces of disorder.

LANDSCAPE

“Beyond these walls lies only silence. Beyond the silence are the Unworthy. Here, under our watchful gaze, is the safest place you can be.”

Khelos is a bleak realm, dominated by vast, empty moorland. The sky is perpetually overcast; rain is frequent, though storms are rare. Perhaps the Domain’s most distinctive feature is how quiet it is. Wind and wildlife are seldom heard, and all but the sound of voices seem muffled or distant. 

Lonely, mud-streaked roads crisscross the moors, leading to settled areas- stretches of farmland, small villages, or the occasional walled city. Even these places feel quiet and empty, with most people keeping to themselves. Khelosian infrastructure is poor, mostly run-down. The dwellings of the elite, however, are grand and opulent. 

Khelos sits on the northeastern coast of Xalior’s great continent. Its main borders are with the dark estuaries of Nyduul to the north, the ashen fields of Orathir to the west, and the volcanic hellscape of Morax to the south. 

Major Locations: 

Ebonhold, capital of Khelos, where the Lich-King rules from the Obsidian Citadel

Volaak’s Landing, the greatest port city, governed by Lich-Lord Volaak

Zostania, most fertile part of Khelos, where most of its food is grown

Mistwater, the greatest stretch of moorland between settled areas

THE LOYAL FLOCK

“The Unworthy are all around us, my friends. They despise us for our perfect society, a thing they could never build, and so they seek to tear it away from us.”

Khelos is inhabited by humans, vedalken, tessians (ratfolk), and vampires (unique to Khelos). They are fearful and suspicious folk. They fear strangers and outsiders, Unworthy of Khelos’ glory. They fear their neighbors, who may be dissenters or foreigners in disguise. And they fear the Dread Council and what awaits them should their loyalty be found wanting. 

Despite this, the Khelosians believe their society is perfect. And why shouldn’t they? It’s all they’re told, from the day they were born until the day they die. The law may be cruel at times, yes, but it is necessary for the sake of order and their own safety. 

Class is very stratified in Khelos, with little room for upward mobility. Vampires, who live only in Khelos, often receive a degree of special treatment, and are more common among the upper classes. At the bottom are farmers and manufacturers, then artisans, merchants and other landowners, mortal necromancers and government officials, lich-lords, the Dread Council, and finally the Lord of Silence, Kevronok himself.

RULE THROUGH FEAR

“There is much in this world for you to fear, but Khelos is strong. The Council is strong. Kevronok is strong.”

Fear is how power is maintained, and so the Dread Council works to ensure that fear is inescapable. News of people outed as Unworthy is shared far and wide, and the wars with the other Domains is constantly at the forefront of politics. Wherever there are people, there are guards, soldiers, and the Silent Ones- secret police. The Baleful Eyes- undead crows which report directly to the Lord of Silence- are always watching. Ghouls are frequently paraded through the streets, and public tortures and executions are a regular occurrence. Self-expression, the source of disorder, is regarded as anathema. 

The Council itself is made up of 26 of the oldest and most powerful lich-lords, many from before the Great Reshaping. The inner workings of its hierarchy are quite complex, and power is in part derived from Kevronok’s favor. All liches covet the seats of the Dread Council, and all Councilors covet the positions of their own superiors. The constant scheming, backstabbing, framing, and deception are an open secret (though not one the populous is privy to), and investigations into misconduct are only to ensure the perpetrator’s tracks were covered. Above it all is the Master of the Dread Council, his position untouchable, with his subordinates too distracted by their schemes to plot against him.

THE LIVING DEAD

“The weak shall be made to serve. The righteous shall be made to lead. The strong shall be made to rule.”

Kevronok invented necromancy, and the practice of raising the dead as zombies remains a fixture of Khelosian society, both as a punishment and a reward.

Zombies of Khelos come in three varieties. First are ghouls, undead slaves controlled by necromancers (living or otherwise). This is the fate of the Unworthy; outsiders, dissenters, prisoners of war, all are slain and revived as ghouls in service of the Lord of Silence. They provide most of the menial labor in Khelos, and are frequently used in its army (they are particularly fond of fighting a Domain with their own dead).

Wights are non-spellcasting mortals who have been rewarded with undeath by a lich. Retaining much of their intelligence yet lacking free will, they lead the Khelosian forces on the fields of battle and serve as the personal bodyguards of the liches who control them. 

Necromancers of sufficient power, ambition, and loyalty are permitted to become liches, interring their soul within a phylactery kept by the Lich-King. Most continue their necromantic duties, with greater status awarded by their undeath. Some may become lich-lords, high-ranking government officials ruling over cities and large plots of land.

KEVRONOK, HAND OF TERROR

“You are not loyal to each other. Your allegiance lies only with the Lich-King.”

The first king. The first necromancer. The first lich. He is Kevronok, the Hand of Terror, Lord of Silence, Master of the Dread Council, Keeper of the Obsidian Citadel, Lich-King and Heir of Khelos.

In life, Kevronok was obsessed with perfection, seeking to build a kingdom that would only know order and would never fall. Believing that he alone could achieve this, and recognizing how long it would take, he created necromancy in pursuit of immortality, leading to his lichdom. When his kingdom inevitably fell, he retreated to the shadows of his hidden fortress, the Obsidian Citadel. Time and again he returned, intent on building a newer, better kingdom, yet each time was vanquished. He always learned from his mistakes, though, and when Khelos died and named Kevronok his heir, the lich was able to achieve what he longed for. All that remains is for the rest of Xalior to fall.

Withered flesh clings to his ancient bones, his beard is long and white, and his eyes shine with a pale blue glow. A dark, twisted crown sits atop his brow, and his robes are dark grays and muted blues. Deathly as his appearance may be, his voice is strong and clear. He is cold, cruel, calculating, and endlessly patient. Yet he is possessed of an obsessive need to be in total control of everything around him, for it all to be precisely as he wishes. As with all the Chosen, his arrogance knows no bounds.

RELATIONS WITH OTHER DOMAINS

“Fools, all of them. They deny our self-evident right to rule.”

Given its political disposition, Khelos is seldom friendly to the other Domains. Their closest allies are Orathir and Nyduul, and they will occasionally trade with Morax and Zalsu, but these relations are tenuous even by Xalior standards. They despise Rystan, Adient, and above all Venhi.

Xalior/Khelos/Morax/Rystan/Adient/Ebrius/Zalsu/Igovic/Nyduul/Orathir/Venhi/Hinterlands

[lefresne]

So let me get this straight: the reason why the Affair between Lancelot and Guinevere causes the fall of Camelot, is because almost half the knights were loyal to Lancelot than to Arthur, and that Lancelot was, in some ways, the shadow leader of the Round Table? When Lancelot kills Gawain's sibling, People took sides?

I’d start by saying that there is no one ‘Fall of Camelot tm’. To say that there is would be as disingenuous as attempting to stabilise a broad, complex, heterogenous body of work that evolved and grew over 500+ years. Each text will have its own interpretation of the circumstances surrounding the political collapse of the Arthurian realm. It’s complicated, and sometimes seems to run counter to our modern understanding of canonicity, but that’s alright! The interpretation below is based on Malory, as Malory, perhaps influenced by the English political landscape of the time, particularly stresses the importance of political factions all vying for influence over the king and queen, as well as the tensions that can arise between affective and political communities.

Reading Malory, it becomes apparent that Logres is dominated by four major factions: Gawain (Orkney and Lothian), Lancelot (Benoic / France), Tristan (Cornwall), Lamorak (Wales). I understand ‘faction’ as meaning a community bound by both kinship and feudal ties. As is consistent with 15th century politics, the individuals at court are the ‘heads’ of often much larger political networks that stretch across Britain.

What is so interesting about Malory is that the text shifts the blame for the collapse of Camelot away from the adulterous affair between Lancelot and Guinevere and rather towards the political ramifications thereof, which themselves then become symptomatic of problems inherent to late medieval feudalism. And this is not to say that this is the sole cause for the end of Camelot, either. Reading (and re-reading) Malory sometimes feels like plucking at a huge ball of yarn for different narrative threads: depending on how you might pick it up, you might blame Uther, who instigates a pattern of criminal sexual behaviour which then becomes compounded with each successive generation (going from adultery (Uther) to adultery and incest (Arthur) to adultery and incest and patricide (Mordred)), or Morgan, for stealing that damn scabbard (not going to lie, I’m a lot less convinced by this one lol), or the Grail for like, existing and revealing the chivalric system’s inherent weaknesses I guess.

 The Welsh and Scottish factions are at odds already following the death of Lot, and these tensions continue to mount throughout the narrative, until the Welsh faction has been largely annihilated by Gawain and his followers. The Scottish faction feels ‘entitled’ to a certain standing at court due to their close kinship with Arthur, and resents anything or anyone that might jeopardise this privileged position( see, for example, the brothers complaining that ‘whom that we hate kynge Arthure lovyth, and whom that we love he hatyth’). Gawain’s friendship with Lancelot keeps the wider faction in check for a long while, however. The Queen, meanwhile, has established her own political network, which overlaps with Lancelot’s. Although Lancelot’s faction has an ambivalent attitude towards Guinevere, it is established that this relationship is mutually beneficial. The Queen ensures Lancelot and his kin’s high standing at court, and Lancelot and his kin will defend her if needed.

After the Grail Quest, the Arthurian political landscape is in shambles. The knights have dispersed, Gawain has murdered God knows how many of his co-workers, and an entire kin group has been decimated. The situation in Cornwall is not too good either, Tristan has been killed, along with a bunch of his allies, and Marc hates Arthur. This exacerbates pre-existing tensions, and remaining allies of Tristan are ‘absorbed’ into Lancelot’s faction, because Lancelot and Tristan had been friends. We quickly learn that Agravaine is jealous of Lancelot’s proximity to the queen and of his political influence. The problem is not the adultery per se, rather the queen’s public displays of favouritism. Lancelot and Guinevere are described as taking walks together and conversing privately – this reference to the walking is important because this was at the time an important part of the queenly schedule, during which courtiers would be allowed to approach and petition her. Agravaine resents Lancelot for ‘monopolising’ the queen’s attention, which he perceives as a slight on his kin group. The Scottish faction now understand that if Lancelot falls, then their group will, by default, rise. Guinevere senses this threat and multiplies public displays of favour towards Gawain and his kin, but this goes disastrously - an ally of Lamorak uses a dinner held in Gawain’s honour to attempt to poison him.  Although Gawain vehemently defends Guinevere, his faction are willing to believe that she would go as far as to poison Gawain for, presumably, Lancelot’s sake. Mador, who is related to Gawain, turning against the queen also serves to prefigure the text’s final conflict, in which Lancelot’s and Gawain’s factions turn against each other. Once again, Lancelot’s faction must intervene to restore order, Nenyve reveals the true poisoner and Lancelot, who had been missing, miraculously returns to save the queen from the pyre. This confirms the extent to which Guinevere and Arthur (who has to beg Bors to fight for his wife) are politically reliant on Lancelot. Agravaine, understanding that his earlier complaint about the queen’s political favouritism has had approximately zero impact, now begins to additionally charge her with adultery (note that Agravaine was with Guinevere throughout the knight of the cart episode).

Gawain, who is friends with both Lancelot and Guinevere, continues to defend them. As he says: not only has Lancelot come to their aid numerous times, ‘if there aryse warre and wrake betwyxte sir Launcelot as us, wyte you well, brothir, there woll many kynges and grete lordis holde with sir Launcelot’. When they ambush the queen, Malory specifies that all the knights present are ‘of Scotlonde, other ellis of sir Gawaynes kynne, other well-wyllers to his brothir’. 

The deaths of Gaheris and Gareth as they guard the queen’s pyre cause a heartbroken Gawain to turn against Lancelot. Now that the affective bonds have broken, all out war breaks out, and Lancelot is forced into exile, taking with him a significant number of knights who are still loyal to him. Arthur, goaded by Gawain, chases after him, leaving the country unattended so that Mordred can seize power. New factions form - those loyal to Mordred and those loyal to Arthur. Civil war breaks out.

The deaths of Gareth and Gaheris do not force knights to take sides, the sides have always existed, but they had been previously kept ‘in check’ by Gawain’s affection for Lancelot, Guinevere, and Arthur. Arthur’s status is never really challenged in Malory, neither Lancelot nor Gawain ever think of overthrowing him, the question is always one of influence. It doesn't matter that the king is largely effaced and at times ineffectual because he is the king. Mordred seizing power in Arthur’s absence is seen as the ultimate betrayal and signals, within the political world Malory has outlined, absolute moral corruption. TLDR: the deaths of Gareth and Gaheris cause affective bonds to break and to therefore reveal the fragmented structure of the king’s court and the tenuous nature of peace. I wouldn’t call Lancelot a ‘shadow leader’ (although I do think that’s a very interesting idea!) because Malory never questions Arthur’s kingship. The text is largely about influence over the king rather than an outright overthrowing of the king. Malory condemns Mordred for seizing power, and condemns the barons for siding with him. But I also think that Malory’s approach to politics and community is a lot more nuanced than just Lancelot = good Gawain = bad. The text reflects a community in crisis and under intense pressure that is trying its best to survive.

[yandere--stuck]

Hi! OG 3 day bugsnax player here - holy shishkabug I didn't think I'd be the only one thinking about the crazy situation it'd be to have each pair vying for journalists attention. I guess I'd just like to know what the rest of the grumpuses would be like, Gramble, Wiggle, Beffica, Cromdo, Shelda, maybe even Clumby or Alegander? Man there's a lot of characters - not even getting into if the bugsnax themselves were crazy for the only grump allergic to them, trying to be 'eaten' but being enable

Bugsnax gang!! I hope you like these! Unfortunately I couldn't do the other two bc I don't know/understand them that well. At least not yet! But I hope you like these ^^

---

Though Gramble may seem completely sweet and innocent, he'll still go to the ends of the Earth to make sure the ones he loves are safe and in good paws. He hates to leave you in Sprout's old play area on the beach, but it's the only way the others won't be able to hear you asking for help! Listen, this is for the best, okay? You're family and he loves you! He's doing this out of love. 

He visits often, making sure to equally split his time between you and the barn in town. Gotta make sure his little ones are taken care of, too, you know? And the others would get a bit suspicious if he just up and left town again. He can't just let them find out and try to take you away! 

Wiggle would likely feed into Gramble's behavior, being incredibly giddy at the thought of having you all to themselves. Oh, her Gramble is so smart! She loves to have picnics together in Sprout's old pen, the little Strabby circling you and the couple as they serenade you. Wiggle is absolutely filled with motivation and excitement - imagine it! An album of love songs all made for you and your shared love. Isn't it romantic?

And if you direct Sprout a little too close to any launch pads, the couple make sure to corral or shoo him away. Wouldn't want him getting loose and trying to lead someone in town back to you, would you? Shush, it's okay! You'll realize this is for the best soon enough!

Beffica had been lonely for a long time. Abandoned by her friends and given the cold shoulder by the others in town (likely for good reason), she was elated to find that you considered her hood company! You! Someone she admired! It was so fun talking with you, snooping and spying, or just hanging!

 … Although, she couldn't help but feel the need to brace for the other shoe to drop. One day, the others would get to you and get you to see her as a monster! Beffica couldn't allow it! Those squeebs didn't deserve your time, anyway. Especially not Filbo. She'd threaten or blackmail anyone getting too close to her Bestie… Or something more, if her hunch that you felt the same as her was correct. Nothing a little more snooping couldn't solve!

Cromdo is the type to project his feelings onto you. Saying stuff like, "Your crush is cute, but don't get any ideas," or, "We make a good team, yeah! But, er, that doesn't mean I wanna go pick out curtains." He cares for you, but either deflects or hides it behind jokes. He's had a rough past with Grumpuses he's cared about before. He doesn't want to get burned again… But, ah, hell! You're too cute for him to resist! The moment he gets that Mothza Supreme, he's hitching that baby to your ship and sailing outta here! With you tied up, if need be. Er, the moment he fixes it, of course! Did you really think he went up there just to do the wiggle every night?

Shelda is so sure that Mother Naturae has destined you and her union! At least, so she says. Whether she believes what she says or not, it certainly cements the idea in Chandlo's mind, leading her student to follow you around like a puppy and excitedly telling you that, "You and Shelda are meant to be, dawg!" 

And though she does love Chandlo as her pupil, Shelda calls you her most prized pupil. A kind heart, a keeper of the path, and someone so willing to help her. She's incredibly touchy-feely, too, to an uncomfortable degree. C'mon, you know you'd be perfect together. Might as well speed up the inevitable, dear.

[izayoichan]

It was only the day after Lucas had brought the news that Hayden suddenly heard frantic knocking on the veranda door. Everyone but him was at work, or well he was working too, but he had the luxury of working from home when he was tired. Wondering if it could be Lucas with some kinda panic attack he walked quickly towards the door, only to stop when he saw the one staring at him with tears in completely panicked eyes breathing as if he had a panic attack.

Hayden: Arlo? They had after all met before, but he had to admit he was very surprised to see the young man here, and in the state they still seemed to slip in and out of ever so often. Opening the door, he wrapped an arm gently around the young man, leading him to sit on the small bench they had there, afraid he would fall apart if he didn’t. Between the deep heaves of air, all he caught was incoherent panicked half words coming from the one sitting next to him, but he did catch the name of his son, and help.

Hayden: Arlo, I need you to breathe with me, okay, we need to slow down your breathing some or you will pass out.

Green panicked eyes met his, a soft smile on Hayden’s face as it reminded him of his twin so many years ago. Nodding at him, he took a deep breath waiting for Arlo to try and join him. Although it took a while, slowly but surely Arlo’s breath started to fall in line with his own, which let him message Vy to come home as soon as he could. He also quickly messaged Flynn as they were the one he knew could help open a portal. After Flynn and Fannar found their twin and being half reapers let them open portals, the trip between the two universes had become easier. Getting an answer instantly from Flynn telling them that he and his dad would join them.

Arlo: Fan, help him, please! Hayden: As soon as my husband comes home, we will go. Flynn and River will come too, okay?

Beginning - Previous - Next

[denimbex1986]

'If I had to pick one piece of advice to give someone who’s on the fence when it comes to watching Ripley, it would be to savor it. Savor it the way that Tom Ripley (Andrew Scott) relishes the Caravaggio paintings displayed among each of the glorious Italian locales he absconds to so he can maintain his freedom and the identity he’s snatched away. Over eight roughly hour-long episodes (the delicious finale clocking in at a hefty 76 minutes), we see Tom spin endless explanations and dance around the many inconsistencies nimbly enough to cast just enough doubt on his guilt to allow the eyes of the police, and others, to look away long enough for him to shimmy out from underneath them and start the process all over again. He’s a con artist, an unrepentant murderer, and wildly overestimates his intelligence, yet I want nothing more than to see him win.

That’s the beauty and power of a character who commits objectively terrible acts with panache: their fictional status gives free license to cheer on their progression in the story. I winced when Tom delivered the killing blow to poor Richard “Dickie” Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn), both for its cold cruelty and Dickie’s utter defenselessness, a man whose biggest crime was being a terrible painter (and a bad judge of character). But my resulting feelings were never in the vein of “I would like to see that man punished for this heinous crime,” but rather, “oh no, the cat killed another mouse, such a brute,” only to allow said cat to rest at the foot of my bed later that evening.

I felt substantially less compassion for Freddie Miles’ (Eliot Sumner) violent end, not because he deserved it—I confess his smugness contributes to the lack of sorrow—but because when it comes to vying for the average audience member’s affection for imaginary characters, a mentally unwell murderer who makes me laugh is going to win out over a snobby rich kid, especially one who’s threatening to put a stop to the good time being had on screen. “Funny” probably isn’t the first, or even the tenth, word to come mind when describing Ripley, but I found myself laughing far more often than I ever would have imagined, whether it was Tom forcing himself to repeatedly confront the punishing number of Italian stairs, the disastrous dumping of Dickie’s body, or the obvious internal debate over whether or not he should kill Marge (Dakota Fanning) for little reason other than the fact that she makes for an annoying roommate.

Admittedly, much of the fascination towards a covetous snake-like Tom Ripley can be laid squarely at Scott’s feet. It’s a pitch-perfect performance, elevated even further by the careful balance he maintains between being an awkward creep and a master manipulator. I’ve heard people liken Tom to an alien, like a creature infiltrating our species, whereas I find Tom to be remarkably human, a refined version of the toddler impulse to take what’s appealing or deemed necessary. Swindling people out of their money is a necessity (arguably), but taking Dickie’s life, in every way that matters, is too appealing to resist.

But if Tom’s horrific actions hook us, his ever-shifting plans afterward keep us on the line. What makes it all the more intriguing is that, although clever, Tom is more fallible than the perpetrator of multiple homicides has any right to be. What’s truly amusing (yet sadly holds true for many real life criminals) is that Tom’s success relies heavily on luck. Some instances are simply a failure when it comes to powers of observation (hotel clerks who neglect to take notice of the mismatching passport photo) while others are a hasty assumption (Marge becoming convinced that Dickie chose to kill himself). Tom’s fortune does strain belief at times—most notably when donning a beard and wig is enough to fool the otherwise sharp investigating detective (Maurizio Lombardi as the often hilarious Inspector Ravini) into believing he’s speaking to someone he’s never met before—but it keeps the suspense humming along nicely.

However, Tom is just competent enough that most of his victories feel earned. It’s the sort of cat and mouse game that I feared would come to an end all-too-soon, lest I’m no longer regaled by the misadventures of this odd but, deep down, slightly relatable man; who among us, after all, has never imagined ourselves possessing something that belongs to someone else? Maybe that’s where the appeal of this breed of villain ultimately lies. As valuable as the one-two combo of writing and performance are, what makes it work beneath it all is the fact that we’re being invited to ask ourselves what we’re capable of in the pursuit of our desires. Maybe it’s less about having sympathy for the devil and more to do with sympathizing with ourselves. Of course, it could simply be that watching people behave badly makes for a hell of a good time.'

[herunswithscissors]

I dwell in Hell already. I'm doing my best to release bits of Heaven into Hell and give the Powers of Hell some indigestion. I'd prefer to give them deadly food poisoning, but we do what we can for The Resistance.

I abide in Hell. I move in Hell. I eat Hell. I drink Hell. I pay Hell rent. Hell is baked into everything in White Christofascist Capitalist Hell. The Hell we usually call America and Christianity.

I'm the belly of Capitalism and Evangelical Christian Nationalism. They are the most demonic influences upon our good world. And I live in the intersection of their bellies and assholes. I get all the shit from both while they also consume me. Devouring my body mind and family out from among each other's shit all vying to get the most of the choicest parts of my intelligence, skills, and hard hard work. Heedless of my needs not of the shit around me.

Although they are very effective at itself each other's shit against me. Often in open cooperation to hurt me the most in my mind. To frustrate me at every turn. To squeeze me for every last cent. And being most brutal where I was most vulnerable.

And if they were brutal to someone as privileged and invulnerable to the system as me for whom I assure you had worked really, really far better for me than against me compared to more vulnerable populations and individuals. I assure you that the system has almost always took from us far more than it gives. And I say that as someone who stands to get a $500,000 highly impossible to get operation to restore my daughter's childhood paid in full, has been on assistance of one kind or another, including getting $800 a month on groceries and subsidized housing at the same time as getting free childcare and school vouchers to transfer our kids to private schools. All those benefits and it cost so much to get them, were so hard to use, and so full of shame, so stingy and cruel, that even the most well meaning social workers could barely do anything to make it better.

But it could always be worse. It could always be worse. And it took so much.

Have you ever ended up in a public psych ward? It doesn't matter that I think I belonged there, and should have belonged there. But I didn't belong there and that has nothing to do with my sanity. It didn't matter that I really needed help in that moment. No decent loving paramedic or cop would deliver you there if they ever set foot inside. Image open rooms, people of varying degrees of violent psychotic tendencies wander aimlessly drugged to carrying degrees with an irrefusable "antipsychotic" they don't elaborate on before plunging a needle into my thigh while I'm strapped into a purposeful stress position. They start you in a stress position. They even pulled my shirt up so I'd be cold. Jokes on them I was hot. But it still hurt like hell and filled me with rage and fear like I've ever known. This was obviously standard procedure. As soon as I was awake I had me left arm barely healed from a brutal chronic injury cranked back to a position above my head and below my heart, centered to strain no matter how relaxed I was. The pain was intense. That is called "stress positions" in our propaganda. Anyway this brutal "gentle" corrective was used to let me know how far they could go and more. This was just procedure. Don't piss is off or make trouble or be too needy. Just behave in a situation where you can't even relax locked in a shitty cell. Those were for the serious cases. Low level eaters of their own flesh and suicide risks are just corralled, bullied with drugs and pain into servile submission to the most ridiculous or derogatory demands.

They were all derogatory and most were ridiculous. begging for water while your neighbor on the bed bench you share with the nice lady chewing on her own arm. The guards took delight in terrorizing us so much it was almost comical were it not also so terrifying that these assholes and the asshole cops who demanded of my traumatized wife that they be allowed to search for "meth" "and maybe ketamine" a partner of the 4 man squad added. So after they cranked the cuffs on tight and refused to really talk to me, they wanted to pin meth on me so I could be dragged in my hospital gown into a public courtroom

(I've seen it happen right before traffic court. Just normal business. Mentally disturbed or suicidal people dragged in cuffs into court in their fucking gowns and forced to be polite to everyone while they plead for their freedom while they are all routinely wearing cuffs on wrists and ankles the entire time even while before a very hardened and unpleasantly bored judge that you knew right away from the way he handled these most vulnerable people in the world with such distain and the open disgust while giving sanctimonious sermonettes was so fucking typical and let's you know right aways he's going to screw up your easy traffic tickets appeals.)

They wanted to drag me into a courtroom like that after handing me quite gently for all their trampling on my civil rights, they barely trampled upon my person except in the cranking on cuffs so unnecessarily hard. And behind my back. When I came out and immediately lay down.

They wanted me to go to jail after they delivered me to the fucking Jaws of Hell/Rectum of Hell. The worst literal hell I can think of outside of prison for life and I think it rivals Christian Hell for long term sustainable suffering for the most vulnerable and sick and uniquely in dire need of love and safety and medical treatment along side well meaning competent psychiatrists.

Thank God I had kind and competent psychiatrists who got me out within 12 hours after finally getting around to examining me to see what might be the matter with me beyond I had a breakdown while high on marijuana after the most horrific fight of my life with the love of my life. I had a minor psychotic break but after a short nap I was shaken up but more than ok and safe to go home.

But it took that good psychiatrist six hours to even see me. And another 6 more doing fuckall or more likely working like hell to wade through hell once again just to free a patient. I think this psychiatrist was one of those types.

I did see one other nice doctor before. But I made the mistake of telling her about my break and how terrifying it had been. But thank you for taking care of me, I'd like to get up an go sit down till the doctor can see me soon. As you can see I am safe and awake and aware. I just had a break and self diagnosed a few too many degrees off. So She smiles, pats my hand, and consigns me to hell to wait my turn to see the good doctor in the hell all the other compliant patients are tossed into along with the not so compliant and not so stabby or self-eaty (seriously. Woman chewing on the meat of her arm with blood everywhere.) With the sadistic guards who have a whole array of tortures to follow up their beatings.

She knows it. She lives in it and is one of the nice doctors there. She regularly visits Hell to see her patients and do what little she can/feels like. And she didn't let me go sit in the waiting room, or my own private room or even a cell with a bed or even a padded room. Everyone goes straight to Hell for processing and holding indefinitely.

I watched the orderlys who called themselves nurses bully and torture.

This one woman was desperate to call her brother to get her dog out of her non ac house in 110(literally) Fresno heat under full sun windows closed. He was going to bake to death for sure. And they told this woman she could only call her brother if she could recall the number of her brother, write it down, let an orderly call it, get her brother to stay on the line long enough to give it to the desperate woman. She first asked for the phone at 6 am. Plenty of time for her brother to wake up and rescue the dog, the woman's only real friend left in this world besides her brother perhaps. He could have saved her whole world before it even got warm.

And she couldn't remember his number.

Who knows their brother's number? I could not tell you my only brother, best man at my wedding, still best friend beyond my wife an father and mother. It doesn't matter how often we talk. It's not terribly often. We have a complicated friendship and a loving brotherhood and siblings hood with each other, our sister, and others spouses who we hold nearly as dear as each other. Sometimes I call him a lot. I can't tell you his number. I just squish his ugly square face with my thumb and call that fucker up. He always is there for me on the other end. We just have trouble communicating or understanding each other's worlds. And we just can't figure out each other's inner worlds the way Tracy does. She knows us far better than we know each other. And he and I are so close. We grew up as each other's only play partner for years at a time. Any way I don't know his number. My Dad's out Mom's. Not even my favorite child. My only daughter. No fucking clue. Nobody knows anybody's number. My wife and my defunct childhood phone numbers are the only numbers in the world I know that matter to me. All others are just unseen numbers behind a name that shows up on the screen huge, sans number. You can't even practice with your calls using the phone book for convenience sake only for a few well practiced from all the calls while reciting the number to yourself. It worked so well for me. But now just 2. Not even my own fucking office. I struggle to remember my own. We got so weakened by hiding the numbers.

Anyway. This poor woman, stuck in hell is desperately trying to save her little yappy dog who is her whole world. And she can't remember her brother's number.

Can she please pretty please, it's such a big ask I know but could I pretty please use my own cell phone that's in with my things in an uncomfortably easily accessible area to you. Very convenient. Could I turn on my phone and call my brother that way. It's for my baby.

Two hours later. Literally.

Your phone is out of batteries we tried turning it on back there to snoop, but the batteries dead. Sorry about the dog. None of us has a charger they're willing to lend.

But I have my own charger she says. It's also in with my things. You must have seen it after all I had connected it to my phone to make harder to get separated.

Oh, that charger. I suppose we could do that. We just need to go back there and get the charger first. Great! Could you pretty please go get it and plug my phone in for 5 minutes? When we get around to it. Keep your panties on woman.

2 literal hours later.

We called your brother. He won't pick up the phone and we didn't leave a message because it's your problem. Sorry about your dog.

But dear sirs, might I call him myself? It is noon. It is already over 100 and it will hit the teens. He might already be dead. Please let me plead with my brother. If only to leave a message, at least there's a real hope he'll check it in time and it's just his way of screening his calls.

All "medical" calls are just bill collectors harassing you again about wanting to not have a massive psoriasis outbreak and your daughter having extreme epilepsy. Nobody in their right mind picks up for medical. If they talk straight to you they can start the clock till liens can be used against you. Direct early engagement without knowing what's going on, your coverage, you basic civil rights for Christ sake?! It's so foolish. But we all check our voicemails pretty soon. Even if just to see what they want this time.

Can I perhaps leave a message.

That seems a reach, lady, but just this once since you asked nicely. If you were bitchy or a Karen we'd have you strapped into stress positions while your dog roasted alive. And if you were too desperate, you'll need more drugs. You've been so very patient. So keep being patient till we can spare a minute for Solitaire to get your phone. (Literally)

2 literal hours later.

Here's your phone. Hurry it up. Sorry about your dog.

They fucking killed her dog in front of her while dangling torture over her to thank them for it.

Fucking evil place. And she was White and kinda with it. Image the more truly vulnerable (we are all vulnerable to consignment to Hell at any cops whim. If they got a wellness check over a suicide concern for a classmate they will barge in with accusations of attempting the crime of suicide. It's this Advil how you were going to do it? No! I don't want to kill myself. I never wanted to kill myself. I never even mentioned suicide. I'm just depressed and didn't want to go to swim practice . They go discuss with the swim team. They walk in with tasers in hand and tell her that she can lay down or be laid down. Either way you are getting medical treatment from psychiatrists. And then she got dumped into Hell.

I guess I really needed to dump that experience out. It's just a little picture of what goes on in every ER psych ward in every major city in the the nation. Never consign someone to that hell.

More about the Hell I dwell in:

There's a bunch of bullshit with my school, embezzlement, fascist cuts to humanities and capitalist cuts to everyone else.

Treating the students who are literally the daughters and sons of modern day slaves. Literally born to generations of migrant workers that the local self made millionaires exploit from their ginourmous extravagant beyond all reason manor homes to rival Hollywood elite. And these children are only good enough for higher paid slavery and job training rather than an education that might free at least their mind if not their body from bondage in nursing. These magnificent children. They played every game they could to get here. They cheated. They studied. They jumped through all the stupid hoops. They deserve so much better. And White Evangelical Christian Capitalists are doing it to them on purpose. Even as they screw me and all their remaining academic slaves.

I abide in Hell. I move in Hell. I eat Hell. I drink Hell. I pay Hell rent. Hell is baked into everything in White Christo-fascist Capitalist Hell. The Hell we usually call America or the good old USA.

But I more specifically abide in Fresno. This is a special Hell for me. Living amongst such intense oppression. But it's all outside me. I am in Hell. But hell is not in me. I move through hell and and try to stop hell from moving through me.

I can never silly stop the flow of hell through me in Christo-fascist White Capitalism.

White Capitalism is a special kind of capitalism based on colonialism. All sorts of societies have greedy hoarders of wealth. All sorts of societies get wealth by oppressing slaves and poor/ vulnerable persons and peoples. But colonialism has that demonic edge to it.

Anyway even with quite a lot of freedom to do my job however the fuck I like as long as not too many kids fail out, I can't do a whole lot to stop the hell flowing through me from my administrative duties and the structure of things. I can only try to benefit them on the little places where I can really do some good like telling them how to navigate Whiteness, academia, and the professional world. Preaching the good news about the evils of Capitalism and the joys of being good and generous people.

But I can't really protect them from admin. (Or economics or family situations) The admin I should be able to thwart more. But I dare not. For the same reason I dared not stand up for that woman whose dog was dying. I wasn't willing to accept the consequences when the brutal powers that be turn their power against me in particular. Because you better be willing to pay the price for love. And I have people to care for who need me. I can't afford that price right now.

But even though I dwell in hell, hell is my foe. Hell is the demonic forces at work in this good world. It is the powers that be that oppress and rape and rob and kill our good world. Although I dwell in Hell I will not allow Hell to dwell in me. Nor will I aid Hell any more than I have to in order to hold onto my little slice of impoverished heaven at home from falling apart. But even as I have to put in my time and work for Hell at work, at service, at church, at court, in The ER psych ward, at Thanksgiving, in the shopping line, at the check out. You can fight hell a little bit. You can take a little bit back from hell even as you hurt hell. Use what little power you have to really help people even if they're assholes. You don't know what day they're having. Fuck the otherers. We are humanity. We are part of Civilization. And civilization considers the neighbor and the whole along with themselves, resolving to at least do no harm and hopefully benefit as much as possible. That's civilization.

Anyway, we dwell in Hell, but like Jesus on the road to the cross, we do what good we can along the way to make a better world. Hopefully the whole world, but this one person's world is also important and deserves consideration. We learn satyagraha from Jesus and other holy ones who show us images of God's heart.

We are Hell's nightmares. We are sleeper agents for the Kingdom of God. We're sleepers in the resistance. We are everywhere. We know what the things of God are. We ate the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil. We know what is good. Anywhere you are, compare things to good and figure out how to make the world a little better for the person next to you in line, the cashier, the clerk, the homeless woman, the kid And everywhere we are we can frustrate the Enemy. Whomever that enemy might be whether a person like a cop or manager, a group like a church or committee, demonic forces, or the Powers of The World. We are the Ghosts of Tom Joad.

You use your position to frustrate the Enemy, whomever they are, whenever you get the chance. Walking down the street. Maybe a cop in an arcade a la Terminator 2 kid saving humanity by instinctively lying to a cop and then helping the victim escape, even trying to distract the cop long enough for his compatriot to escape death. Maybe it's covering for another employee when the manager wants you to rat on them. Maybe it's sharing your pay rates with the other employees. Maybe it's fucking with their ad revenues. Maybe it's shoplifing from big box stores. Maybe it is a general strike.

Use your position to help each other live a little better here in Hell. Tell them the shrimp is old. Tell them to use this or that form. Tell them where the better deal is. Show kindness to those who are vulnerable. Live out love to those harassed, oppressed, impoverished, and helpless against the Powers of The World. Try to build little bits of the Kingdom of Heaven here in Hell.

Hopefully we can together make the whole world a better place. But even the smallest kindness makes that one person's world a better place. And you have no idea how your kindnesses, small or large, may make their world better. And you have no idea how that kindness may be passed on.

[nickgerlich]

Better Late Than Never

I see it all the time in grocery stores. With up to 30,000 new items introduced each year, all vying for a slot in stores that can carry 45,000 different items, it is competitive sport. Of those 30,000 items, only a handful are true innovations. That leaves the vast majority of new products to fall into one of two categories: line extensions and me-toos.

Line extensions are often easy, inexpensive implementations, if only because they involve new flavor variants and the like. Me-toos, though, happen when a company has ceded first-mover advantage to another, but then must scurry to catch up. So Company B burns some midnight oil developing their own version or interpretation of what Company A just did. To be caught without might be catastrophic.

Which is precisely what Google felt when ChatGPT was introduced last November, and Microsoft quickly hitched its wagon to it. That has all changed now. Say hello to Google’s Bard, officially introduced this week, but in limited numbers. Hurry on over to the online sign-up sheet so you can get on the wait list.

While it is ideal for the me-too to go one better than the OG, sometimes it truly is just a matter of duplicating to try to save face and remain in the race. Google, though, swears it is including features not included in the first ChatGPT iteration. Of course, that is up for debate, since GPT4 was announced a week ago with many new features.

This still leaves Facebook without a horse in this race, although parent company Meta swears they are working on one too. The Big Three are all convinced that AI is so critical to the future of their businesses that there is a land rush going on to attract as well as retain market share.

Google promises that Bard will do a better job at creating essay outlines as well as documenting sources used, but can also be used for event planning and even meal creation. Imagine uploading a picture of the inside of your fridge, and getting suggestions for dinner based on what you have. That’s pretty cool, and starts to sound like the item recognition I suggested yesterday to help alleviate theft at self-check stands.

The bigger picture that we as students and academics must take in is that there is a revolution happening before our very eyes. I seriously doubt that AI is a fad that will be forgotten in a few years. This is nearly as big as the introduction of the original search engines themselves. It’s paradigm-shifting and life-changing all at the same time. And we will be telling our kids and grandkids for years to come of how we had to search the old-fashioned way, the digital equivalent of walking uphill to school both ways. In snow.

Google plans for Bard to be a complementary feature, effectively a stand-alone product. But it also plans to incorporate AI into its productivity suite, which includes Google Docs, Sheets, and Gmail. Of course, Google had to include this, because Microsoft has already announced plans to include ChatGPT in its Office Suite.

Say it with me: Me. Too. Because you just have to sometimes.

As a loyal Google user, I am glad they are adding AI to its other products. I drifted away from Microsoft products years ago, choosing to export a file from Google file format to Microsoft as a matter of courtesy for others reading my work, or to meet requirements, like for a journal article submission. I do all my writing in Google Docs.

The current launch is not without some snickering, though, because a month ago when Bard was in hasty product development, there was a significant blunder that went public. The faux pas was so big that Google shares dropped 7.7% that day, leaving Google with egg on its face.

And therein lies the problem with me-toos. Sometimes it is easy to fire off a near duplicate product, especially if the innovation is not big. But in the case of Google, it appears that they (and Facebook, let’s be fair) have been broadsided by something they simply did not see coming, or at least not last November. They quite literally had to work 24/7 to try to rush their version to market, and along the way, made some missteps.

Given everyone’s fascination with ChatGPT, they had no choice but to double down. In less than half a year, AI has become a household word, and because services have been free—so far, at least—we could all take it out for a test drive.

Bard’s trickle-out release is likely a wise move for Google, because early adopters will essentially be product testers. Any new flaws can be addressed without the masses having access, which is good for Google. They don’t need any more egg on their face.

I’ve already joined the wait list, and have formulated my first query: What was life like before AI search? Bard’s reply will be a story I get to tell in the years ahead. I just wonder if Bard will acknowledge the fact that it wasn’t the first horse out of the gate. Because Company Bs would like to make their Me-Too status go away. Because that’s also like having egg on your face.


Dr “Search Me“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[lonelyicycle]

Fear vs Fearlessness

Months ago, I was fearless. Compliments would be gifted on the confidence I exuded inside and outside the club, girls vying to be like me and have an ounce of the self-esteem I held. While riding this confidence, I often toed the line on confidence vs arrogance, and persistently loathed the arrogance that did come with self-confidence. However, I would give anything to have that back.

Since the beginning of December, I've felt outcasted, left alone to my own ideations and evolutions. Though this has been a healing experience, I would be lying if I said that I'd wanted it. Losing friends, losing hope, and losing the confidence I used to bolster myself with throughout my day-to-day has impacted me in a way that's hard to describe as anything besides rejection. Fearing rejection was never an issue for me until recently. Between the rejection from friends, from myself, and from customers at the club, I feel as though I'm lost walking in the forest. Robert Frost's divergence of two roads, and advice to take the one less traveled by has left me stranded. It's left me reeling, trying to understand where I fit in this big, small world.

Is that so wrong? To want to fit in? Short answer, yes. I shouldn't want to fit in, but I strive to. I have this aching in my chest that I need to be liked, and well-received, but why? Why do I have these types of strings pulling at my insides, and wrapping itself around my brain, strangling the oxygen from it? It makes it hard to think, hard to breathe, and hard to function. I'm not sure exactly where this loss of confidence has arose from, but I do have some ideas.

So, from fearlessness to fearful is where I stand. It's my own island between the two roads that diverged in the woods, and the water surrounding me laps the shore like the waves do to Captain Ahab's ship. Clouds loom in the wake of stars above me in the night sky, casting my doubts upon me, and dwindling the need to leave. It's a peaceful island although storms rage around it, and the clouds in the air never disperse. There's no one but me. Myself and the clouds that impede my view of the possibilities that I am capable of.

To escape the storm that plagues my brain and heart, I have to be innovative. I have to fearless once again. It's the only choice in escaping my island, to conquer the fear of my self-doubts and insecurities, and release my true self. Tired, and drowning from the sound of the waves that give no break to the shore of my island, I have to pull myself up. I have to swim.

Although the water is icy, so am I. I've been frozen on this island for too long, allowing life as I know it to swim by. There have been a few life boats, but I didn't think they were for me. Or I thought they were too good for me. Either way, I now see my mistakes. Each wave that courses onto the shore is written with my self-doubts. You're not good enough. Everyone hates you. Why did you say that, you imbecile? They don't want to meet you. They don't want to save you. You don't want to save yourself.

The intrusion of these thoughts is what has kept me frozen, not willing to face the water. Begrudgingly ignoring myself, and my need to escape. I need to swim. I need to step through my self-doubts and show them that no matter how long they try to keep me trapped, I will always become a better swimmer.

Dipping a toe into the water, surrounding my island, my veins rage with anger, sadness, loathing. The cells in my body try to force me back so I can avoid the hurt of it all, but I can't. I must keep going. Being knee-deep in the icy water, more vicious than the bay surrounding Alcatraz, I walk with strength. One foot after another. Forcing myself through the stormy water, not knowing what lies beneath it. Smashing each wave with the strength of my body, I fall through my self-doubts. Proving them wrong one at a time.

The only question that prevails me now. How long can I swim before I reach the solid ground of fearlessness once again?

[love-toxin]

what about a fruity 4 x a plush size angelface?

muahahahaha!!!! i cannot be contained!!!!

(cws: f!plus size!angelface, fruity four, a lil size insecurity, the spice™️, breeding, facesitting, tribbing, fluff and smut.)

more of you to love! but for real though, you'll have a group of vultures to contend with. sometimes you wonder if there's anything that goes through Steve and Robin's heads other than ass ass boobs thighs tits ass. Eddie is at least a little more cultured about it, has a little more finesse--he often hits you with the "where'd a sexy, curvy girl like you come from, huh sweetheart? did heaven decide to bless me with an angel today?" rather than just ogling you like a hound (although he definitely does do some ogling). and Nancy's usually rolling her eyes at their antics, choosing instead to ensure you get enough compliments on your personality rather than just your figure. she doesn't wanna be lumped in with the rest of those little pervs you call your partners--although to say she doesn't enjoy the way you fit in some of the clothes she buys you is an understatement at least.

aside from the obvious physical attraction, though, they absolutely adore you as a person, and despite their love for you they aren't ignorant to your own insecurities and the ones that people like to push on you. they're like a group of guard dogs--always looking out for you and getting a kick out of being your protectors. you can be sure any hurtful comments will be met with proper retaliation, whether it's malicious or just ignorant. that includes family members too! Eddie's especially not afraid to make an enemy of any grammas or aunties or parents or snot-nosed siblings, if they start spewing a load of shit about his precious angel.

Steve and Robin were the first ones to really fall for you, the two of them looking forward to your visits to Family Video, when they would both try their best to appeal to you and quietly squabble between themselves as soon as you had left. Robin would argue that they should recommend a romance movie next time you're in, while Steve wants a very specific action-comedy with a dashing protagonist that he swears looks just like him. but those disagreements go from relatively benign chatter to something deeper very quickly, heading towards conversations like "do you think she likes girls?" and "maybe we could ask her out" and the ever-popular "god, if she thinks we're freaks, I'll have to find a new job and hide in a cave forever."

once your presence was made known to Eddie and Nancy, though, and they made a point to show up at the video store when the others knew you'd be there so they could meet you, it was practically love at first sight. you smile as soon as you see them, you know their names because you're such a good listener even when Robin's rambling off-topic, and you're so friendly and nice, you don't even flinch at standing face-to-face with Hawkin's most notorious freak. you compliment his jacket, tell Nancy she's even prettier than the other two described her, and they're just hooked. they watch you duck into the aisle to grab a new tape with Robin on your heels to give you recommendations, and the three of them bow their heads together to whisper amongst themselves. making plans, hopeful that they can snatch you up and make you theirs--because you deserve to be treated so well, and they want to be the ones to do that spoiling more than anything else.

you'd count yourself lucky that they tried so hard and didn't give up the fight to make you theirs, but honestly they wouldn't have ceased unless and until you made it clear you didn't want them at all. and you're so gentle and cuddly and sweet that they just couldn't not fall for you, you're such a babygirl and they spend so much time vying for your attention, sometimes you wonder whether you've got some kind of hormone radiating off of you that makes them stick to you like glue. which, of course, also translates to the intimate parts of your collective relationship.

Eddie's biggest love for you is your tummy rolls, god, the tummy rolls. so fucking cute when you bend over, when he can see them through your clothes or he gets a peek underneath if your shirt's especially baggy--and even cuter when he's bending your legs back and folding you in half, his hips meeting yours and nearly crushing you as his mind whites out with pleasure. if not for his promise to pull out, he'd probably forget, but it's almost better than cumming inside you when he pulls out and shoots his load off all over your belly, soft skin jerking as the heat splatters all over it and you sigh with pleasured relief at the feeling. absolutely glorious every single time, it never gets old.

Steve's heavily preoccupied with the thought of "dear god, that's a belly I wanna put a baby into." more often than not. whether you want to or not, or whether you can or not, it's not like that desire rests entirely on actually producing a baby--he just loves the thought of it, loves the idea of pressing you down into his bed and breeding you, of feeling your soft rolls against his fuzzy chest and thighs as he pounds you til your eyes roll back while folding you in a mating press. and when he's done there, he'll flip you over and do it all again from behind, your hair tugged back in his fist and your ass rippling with every hard thrust as he feels those words "I love you" bubbling up in his throat the closer he gets to spilling himself inside you again.

Robin just wants you to sit on her face, sit on her face please god just let her suffocate underneath you--no, there's no weight limit, and there's no need to worry about hurting her because she promises you'll have a way to communicate without using her words. when you do end up shyly straddling her head, folds all puffy and glistening from Robin dragging her fingers through them, she's sure there's never been a moment in her life she's been more overcome with anticipation. and when she finally pulls your hips down and hears that squeaky "ah!" when her tongue meets your slit, her life is pretty much complete as she goes to work on licking you out until you've totally drenched her just like she wanted.

Nancy has very specific tastes, herself. obviously she also wants a chance at being smothered between those legs, but she's also got other motivations--primarily the thought of laying you down and riding those beautiful hips into ecstasy, each of your clits grinding up against each other so she can watch that pretty face twist up in pleasured agony as she drags out your orgasms. she loves the feeling of your chubby thighs pressing against her on either side, the soft jiggle of your tits and your tummy as she rides you, it just highlights all your best features and makes it so easy to watch you cum when you can't take any more. and, of course, seeing you pout and whine when she denies you your end, getting you so close to cumming and making you so wet only to sit back and listen to you beg for her to finish. it's just perfection.

and regardless of what they love about you intimately, they love you so much more. they love your smile and your sweetness and your attitude, they melt when you're nice to them and end up kissing you when you're annoyed, because you're just too pretty to resist. you can get whatever you want if you ever dare to ask and you can calm them down when they're upset so easily. even if they're angry at you, you can just yank up your top and flash them and suddenly whatever they were mad about they just magically forget. they love to see you have confidence, but they're not disappointed or annoyed when it comes time to reassure you--they like to do it! because it's an opportunity for them to run through all the things they love about you and remind you that you're theirs, you're theirs and you're loved and it doesn't matter what anyone else says about them or you. if you love yourself, that's awesome, and if you don't like the way you look, that's okay, too. that means they just get a little extra challenge to make you believe it, and they'll be damned if they lose that battle.

[llamagoddessofficial]

E-eldritch Sans au? oh... oh no. Please go on. What does the "blue eyed one" want? and of course there is a skull somewhere in their ranks? what happens when He sees her too?

Sans, the 'blue-eyed one': He wants her just as much as the others do. They all love her in the closest approximation to love they can feel. Rather than try to appear humanoid to her and risk falling into the uncanny valley, like Red often does, Sans takes the route of being completely otherworldly in a clean and easily comprehensible manner. His body resembles a dark fluid, fluctuating in viscosity and shape, eyes and mouths opening across him when required (although he tends to stick to just one mouth to ease the scare factor). He might take a form resembling the small skeleton we all know if she seems particularly nervous... he’s very kind, very careful with her, talking softly and offering to shelter.

Unfortunately, he hates other humans. He wants nothing to do with her friends, he’d kill them if the opportunity arose, he despises having to share her with these noisy dirty meatbags. He makes it very clear from the start that he only assists her friends if she asks, and purely to make her happy... he understands that her mind doesn’t work as his does and she needs her little pack bonds to stay sane, but he’s still clearly vying for a way to get rid of them. She finds it difficult to trust him.

Red, the 'red-eyed one': If Sans is cold and blue and otherworldly... Red is crimson, blood and bones and sinew, almost too close to home. Sometimes his presence is comforting because it reminds her of the warmth of flesh & other human beings, and sometimes it’s deeply and viscerally disturbing, twisting something she knows into an unnatural shape that makes her stomach turn and vividly reminds her that this is a higher being playing around with a smaller creature’s physical form purely for entertainment. Unlike Sans, he’s a lot more tolerating of her surviving friends- although it’s obvious he’s got eyes (MANY eyes) for her, he enjoys her human companions too, he’ll joke with/protect them without her having to prompt him.

Much like Forest God Red, it slowly becomes clear that Red’s imitation of humanoid mannerisms and shapes isn’t entirely for her benefit. He harbours some envy for the species that knits its family units together so tightly- he wants to be human.

Skull, the 'thing that wants': A massive creature following her across the landscape like a needy dog after one chance meeting in the open. All the eldritch beings are huge, but Skull is the only one who struggles to shrink himself, far too ancient and powerful to access those fine shapeshifting motor functions anymore.

He loves her in a frightening, consuming, eldritch way. He wants to know her inside and out, he wants to touch her consciousness, he wants to explore every inch of her brain, he wants to absorb her Soul and trap her tiny body in his own. Maybe he wants to hold her? Maybe he wants to eat her? It’s hard to tell anymore, with a creature like him. He’ll hunt for a thousand years if he has to.