#and I've been listening to Wicked so that's playing a part

[endlessdreamworld]

My Sinful Little Angel

a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader

"Thank you again, Mr. Oak," you said as Sunday, the town's resident tailor finished repairing the frayed hem of your apron. "Here," you offer him a half dozen of today's special treat, powdered sugar shortbread cookies filled with raspberry jam.

"Thank you," he gave you a soft smile that made your heart melt. "Here," he offered you up some coins, more than he should but still a paltry amount the judgmental villagers would consider good and proper.

It was part of your little arrangement. You showed up one day out of nowhere, and the town's bakery took you in. You had a roof over your head and a belly full of food, but they paid you next to nothing.

"Tomorrow we're going to be maki--" a knock interrupted your sweet little announcement. It was the baker's son. Sunday didn't miss how your gaze fell to your hands clutching your newly repaired apron, how you seemed so very bashful in the presence of your peer. Oh God in heaven, please smite this wicked fool who dare intrude upon your shared sacred peace and tempt you so.

You gave him a small wave as you headed for the door, "I have to go Mr. Oak, duty calls." You were always so polite and sweet to him, so diligent, always doing more than you should. Sunday noticed the powdered sugar you had graced him with when he paid you for your work and brought it to his unworthy tongue. An ambrosia he didn't earn, one he didn't deserve. You were an angel made flesh, and far too good for a backwater place like this. One day, he swore, he'd do something about it.

As the sun set, he flipped the sign in the window from open to closed before heading off to his second job. Every flock needed a shepherd, and who better to play the role as he? And so the town's church offered a confessional booth service where he served as the confessor.

He settled in behind the screen and prepared his heart for the service. People always had such ridiculous things plaguing them so, but who was he to deny them salvation?

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It was the sound of your voice. He held his breath. He couldn't help but hear how nervous and deflated you sounded. What heresy could you have committed to feel so low? "Speak freely, child," he spoke in an unrecognizable drawl. Sunday preferred anonymity. It was better when people didn't know who they were speaking to.

You sigh inwardly and steel your resolve, "I've been having sinful thoughts about another. One of my fellow peers."

Sunday has heard those very words before, and he didn't like where this was going. He was quite fortunate to be able to steer you away from such an unholy sin. "What sorts of thoughts?"

He listened to the sound of fabric brushing against the confessional screen, the sound of you squirming from discomfort. "Carnal ones I'm afraid. Whenever I'm with him, I pray his hands linger more than they should. Every night, I dream of clandestine meetings -- of the perverted sort."

Sunday hears how very affected you are, and he isn't going to allow some degenerate sully your pure soul and infect your mind. He was almost certain it was that baker boy with the way you could scarcely look at him, but if he were to do anything about it, he would need to be sure. "Those are quite heavy sins, my dear, but the lord forgives all who wish to repent."

"Thank you Father." He can hear the smile in your voice and he has you right where he needs you.

"To repent, it would be best to disclose the name of this wolf in sheep's clothing that assaults your thoughts and faithful heart."

Yes, give me a name. This whisper campaign to your excommunication will be as delicious as it'll be unsurprising. It'll be my revenge for whoever dares touch you so frivolously, my sweet angel.

You got quiet, the sound of conflict. Sunday's chest tightened, anguished by your misplaced sense of guilt. You were trying to shield whoever this dastard was by the kindness of your soul. He knew you needed one final push. "The lord forgives all who sin, even the serpent who tempts you so."

"Well," you swallowed thickly. Agony permeated your words as you work up the courage to oust the blasphemer, "it's Sunday Oak."

[raekensluver]

WICKED OBSESSION - EX!LUIGI MANGIONE x FEM!READER- PART TWO

PART ONE, PART TWO

DESCRIPTION: it seems you finally managed to get luigi out of your life, so you decide to move on and date someone new. but when you're in a club and you run into luigi...how is he going to react to your new relationship?

CONTAINS: dark themes!!!!!!!!!!, toxic!luigi, clubbing, drugging, cheating, daterape, manipulation, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), mentions of babytrapping (it doesn't happen).

w.c: 4.2k

a/n: lowkey tweaking out because i know my baby lu would never do this but this is a work of fiction so it's okay....right?

the neon lights of the club throbbed in time with the bass, casting an eerie glow across the dance floor. the air had the scent of sweat and perfume, the sound of laughter and music an intoxicating blend that made the world feel alive. you leaned against the bar, sipping your drink, feeling the vibrations of the music in your chest. your new boyfriend, matt, swayed beside you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back.

months had passed since you last saw luigi. the memory of that night was a distant echo, a faint taste of something sour on the back of your tongue. you had blocked his number, deleted his messages, and even moved apartments to escape the shadow he had cast over your life. every time you thought you had left the toxic relationship behind, the fear of his reappearance had clung to you like a sticky web. but with matt, you felt free. his gentle touch was a balm to your bruised soul.

your parents adored matt. he had a way of making everyone feel seen and heard, a stark contrast to luigi's demanding presence. when he picked you up for dinner, he'd bring flowers for your mom, ask about your dad's day, and listen to their stories with genuine interest. he was the kind of son they had always hoped for. when they saw the two of you together, their faces lit up with the warmth of a thousand suns. they had never seen you so happy, so at peace.

but the night at the club, the night you saw luigi, the shadows of your past began to stretch their long fingers into the present. his eyes found you through the crowd, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of anger and desperation. you felt a chill run down your spine, a shiver of fear that you thought you had outgrown. matt, noticing your sudden tension, wrapped his arm around you protectively, whispering, "who's that?"

you tried to play it cool, taking a sip of your drink and hoping luigi would just pass by, but his steps were determined. as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours, you felt the old weight of his presence settle back on your shoulders. "luigi," you murmured to matt, your voice shakier than you'd liked. "it's okay, everything's fine." you told him, but everything wasn't fine. luigi had always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, and even now, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club, it was just the two of you.

"hey, it's been a minute," luigi said, his voice smooth as velvet, his smile forced and cold. matt offered a hand, a polite gesture that you appreciated, and luigi took it in a firm, almost painful grip. "luigi mangione," he said, introducing himself. "i know who you are," matt replied, his grip equally firm. "i've heard a lot about you." there was a beat, a moment where the tension grew thick enough to slice with a knife. luigi's eyes flicked to you, a question in them. "this is matt," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "my boyfriend."

his smile didn't waver, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. "oh," luigi said, his eyes lingering on matt. "you're the one who's been keeping her out of trouble, huh?" he leaned in, his voice low and mocking. "good for you. she used to be such a handful." matt's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "i think she's pretty perfect the way she is," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to fill the space around you.

luigi's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes dark. "right," he said, his tone clipped. "well, i didn't come over here to cause any trouble. just wanted to say hi." his hand reached out, and for a split second, you thought he might touch you. but matt's grip on your waist tightened, a silent warning, and luigi's hand fell away. "another time, then," he said, his voice dripping with a promise that sent a fresh wave of cold fear through you.

he turned and began to walk away, his movements fluid and graceful despite the crush of people on the dance floor. your eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, a snake slithering back into the shadows from which he came. matt's arm tightened around you, and you felt his breath in your ear. "are you okay?" he asked. you nodded, but the nod felt too heavy, forced. "yeah," you said, "i'm fine." but you weren't fine. the sight of luigi had cracked open a door you thought was sealed shut, and the memories flooded in, unbidden and unwelcome.

an hour passed, or maybe it was two, the minutes stretching and warping to the beat of the music. matt was pulled away by friends and you remained by the bar, the empty glass in your hand a silent sentinel to the fear that had crept back in. you tried to ignore the way the lights played over the shifting crowd, turning every shadow into a potential threat. you tried to focus on the music, the laughter, the warmth of matt's hand when it found yours again, but luigi's presence lingered like a bad taste.

suddenly, he was there again. luigi slid onto the stool next to you, his eyes never leaving yours. the bartender set down a drink in front of you, and you stared at it, a slithering coil of dread tightening in your stomach. "i just wanted to talk," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the din of the club. "i've missed you."

you took a deep breath, the taste of your drink bitter on your tongue. "it's over, luigi," you said, your voice firm. "i'm done." the words felt like a declaration of war, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the storm of his anger. but he just nodded, his smile never wavering.

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "i know," he said, his voice a whisper over the music. "i just wanted to make sure you knew that i still care." you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his words, and for a moment, doubt flickered. but then you remembered the pain, the tears, the endless cycle of his apologies and your forgiveness. "i don't need that kind of caring anymore," you replied, sliding off the stool. "i've got matt. he treats me right."

his expression didn't change, but the air around him grew colder. "you always did know how to pick 'em," he said, gesturing to the drink with a tilt of his head. "have one last toast with me?" the glass was filled with an amber liquid that glinted under the neon lights, and you knew it was your favorite whiskey. luigi had always had a way of knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to get under your skin.

you stared at the drink, the ice cubes clinking together with a sound like shattered promises. if you took a sip, if you engaged with him, you were afraid it might be like opening pandora's box. but maybe, just maybe, if you humored him this one time, he would leave you alone forever. you picked up the glass, the condensation wetting your fingers, and raised it to your lips.

the whiskey burned down your throat, a familiar warmth that brought with it a rush of bittersweet memories. you set the glass down firmly, the clink of it hitting the bar a declaration. "that's enough," you said, your voice clear and unwavering. "i have to go find matt." luigi's smile remained, but there was something in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. "sure," he said, "enjoy the night."

you pushed through the sea of bodies, the music a muffled roar in your ears. the lights spun and swirled, making it hard to focus. matt's tall frame should have been easy to spot, but the more you looked, the more you realized he wasn't anywhere near. a sinking feeling began to form in your stomach, a knot that grew tighter with every passing second. you scanned the dance floor, the couches, the bathroom line, but there was no sign of him.

you pulled out your phone, the glow of the screen a beacon in the dark. no messages, no calls. you tried to call him, but the club's reception was spotty at best, and all you got was a series of rings followed by silence. where was he? had luigi said something to him? the whiskey swirled in your stomach, mixing with the fear that had taken hold. you sent a quick text, trying to keep the panic out of your words. "where are you?"

the seconds ticked by, feeling like hours. no response. the music grew louder, the lights more oppressive. the crowd seemed to close in around you, and you felt like you couldn't breathe. your heart hammered in your chest, a drumbeat that echoed the bass of the music. you pushed through the throngs of dancers, searching every face, but matt's was nowhere to be found.

the club was a labyrinth of neon lights and pounding rhythms, each step taking you further from safety and closer to the panic that threatened to consume you. the floor was sticky under your shoes, the air thick with the scent of desperation. your eyes searched frantically, darting from person to person, but all you saw were strangers, their faces a blur of indifference to your distress.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around. you gasped, ready to lash out, but it was luigi. his eyes searched yours, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through the mask of his usual arrogance. "you okay?" he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony. you nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. "matt's missing," you managed to shout over the music. "i can't find him."

luigi sneered for a second before it was replaced with something softer. "let's go look together," he offered, and for a second, you almost believed he had changed. almost. but you were desperate, and he was right there. together, you wove through the dancers, his hand in yours. his grip was firm, grounding you in a way that was eerily familiar. "matt's a good guy," luigi said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "you deserve someone like him." the words stung, but you didn't have the energy to argue.

you began to feel loopy, the whiskey hitting you harder than it should have. the lights grew too bright, the sounds too loud. you stumbled, and luigi was there, his arm around your waist, supporting you. "are you okay?" he shouted, his face close to yours. you nodded, trying to shake off the fog that clouded your thoughts. "just need to find matt," you murmured, leaning into him.

his grip on you tightened, his thumb stroking the side of your hip in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. you realized with a start that the hand that had held yours was now resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with a possessiveness that was all too familiar. the whiskey's warmth had turned to ice, and you felt yourself sinking into the cold embrace of the club's floor. "matt," you tried to call out, but your voice was a whisper lost in the roar.

the lights above swirled into a nauseating kaleidoscope, each color stabbing into your retinas like a knife. the music grew distorted, the laughter around you turning into a cacophony of taunts. you felt luigi's arm around you, his grip tightening as you stumbled again. "let's go someplace quieter," he yelled in your ear, his breath hot and sour. the hand that had been on your back slid up to your shoulder, his fingers digging in, and you realized with horror that you couldn't move away. your limbs felt like lead, and the panic grew, a scream trapped in your chest.

the edges of the club blurred as he half-dragged you through a side door and into a hallway that was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the main room. the walls were cold and unforgiving, the floor sticky under your feet. the lights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced around you like ghosts from your past. your thoughts swirled like the neon lights, a toxic mix of fear and confusion. "matt," you tried to call out, but your voice was lost in the thump of the bass that seemed to follow you even here.

"shh," luigi murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. his arms were around you, supporting you, but it felt more like a cage. "he's probably just stepped outside for some air." his voice was soothing, the way it used to be when you were together, when you were lost in his lies. "let's sit down, okay?" before you could protest, he had guided you to a bench against the wall, his grip firm and unyielding.

you leaned against him, your vision swimming. the whiskey had hit you harder than you had anticipated, and the room spun in a dizzying array of lights and sounds. you tried to focus on his face, but it kept shifting, changing into the monster you had left behind. "matt," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i need to find matt."

his arms tightened around you. "he'll find you," he assured you, his voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "right now, you just need to relax." his hand slid down to your waist, his fingers curling possessively. you tried to push him away, but your body didn't respond, heavy and sluggish. "no," you slurred, the word barely audible. "not again."

the room tilted and you felt yourself slipping, the floor rising up to meet you. luigi's arms tightened, his grip like iron bars keeping you upright. "don't worry, i've got you," he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. "just let me take care of you." the words echoed in your mind, a siren's call from a nightmare you thought you had left behind.

you felt his hand move again, this time sliding up to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. your heart hammered in your chest, a desperate rhythm that seemed to match the throb of the bass still pounding in your ears. you knew what was happening, knew the game he was playing, but you couldn't find the strength to fight it. "no," you murmured, the word barely escaping your lips. "please."

his eyes searched yours, the coldness in them sending a chill down your spine. "you always did like to play hard to get," he said, his voice a mockery of sweetness. your mouth felt dry, the whiskey a burning memory on your tongue. you tried to swallow, but your throat was a desert, parched and desolate. the room spun faster, the lights above becoming a blur of color that made your head ache.

his hand moved up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don't you remember how good we were together?" he asked, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "i can give you everything you want. everything you need." his breath was hot, the scent of alcohol and something darker, something that made your stomach churn. "matt can't give you what i can."

you tried to pull away, to stand, to scream, but your body was uncooperative. your legs felt like jelly, your arms heavy weights attached to your shoulders. "no," you whispered, the word barely escaping your numb lips. "i don't want that anymore." the room was spinning faster, the lights above swirling into a sickening pattern that made you want to retch.

luigi's grip remained unyielding, his thumb stroking your cheek with a gentle pressure that was anything but comforting. "you don't know what you want," he murmured, his eyes searching yours with a hunger that made your skin crawl. "but i do. i want you." his voice was a siren's call, a promise of comfort in the storm that raged within you. but it was a lie, and you knew it.

his other hand found yours, guiding it with a surprising force to the bulge in his pants. your stomach lurched, the whiskey churning in your stomach like a tempest. "feel that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the club. "that's how much i want you." the fabric of his trousers was rough under your trembling fingers, the heat from his body searing through the material. "luigi, no," you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

his hand didn't move, his grip unyielding as he pressed your palm against his erection. "just one more time," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "i'll make it worth your while." the memory of his touch, his kisses, his promises flooded your mind like a tsunami, threatening to drown you in a sea of despair. his thumb traced lazy circles on the inside of your wrist, sending a shiver of revulsion through you.

you felt his cock twitch under your touch, and you realized with a start that his hand had moved away, leaving yours to hover there, unsure of what to do. your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, but your body remained frozen, trapped in a prison of fear and doubt. his eyes bore into yours, searching for a flicker of the desire that had once burned so brightly for him. but all you felt was the cold, hard reality of his manipulation.

his hand moved to the back of your head, gently but firmly guiding you closer to his crotch. you could feel the heat of him, smell the musk of his desire. your stomach churned with the whiskey and the horror of what was about to happen. "please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. but he didn't listen. he never did.

his zipper rasped open, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. your eyes watered with the effort of not crying, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you break. his cock sprang free, hard and demanding, and you knew what he wanted. his hand pushed your head down, the pressure unmistakable. you closed your eyes, took a deep, shaky breath, and did as he bid.

his cock filled your mouth, the taste of him bitter and wrong. you felt his hands on your hair, guiding you, his breath coming in short, excited gasps. your cheeks hollowed as you moved up and down, his grip tightening with each stroke. the whiskey churned in your stomach, but you couldn't throw up. not now. not here. you had to get through this.

you kept your eyes on him, his face a mask of lust and power. his eyes were locked on yours, the dark pools of his pupils swallowing any hope of escape. the lights above threw shadows across his face, making him look like a demon from hell itself. his mouth moved, whispering words of encouragement, of ownership, but you couldn't hear them. the only sound was the sickening sounds of your swallowing and gagging and and the thud of your own heart, beating a desperate rhythm of survival.

then, without warning, luigi pulled himself out of your mouth, his grip on your hair painfully tight. he pushed you back down onto the bench, his eyes never leaving yours. his pants fell to his ankles with a soft thump, and he positioned himself between your legs. "you always did know how to take care of me," he murmured, his voice a knife slicing through the silence. your heart hammered in your chest, a wild, terrified animal trapped in a cage.

his hand reached up under your skirt, the fabric rough against your skin. you tried to close your legs, to fight him off, but your body was a traitor, too weak from the drugged whiskey and the fear. his fingers found your panties, ripping them aside with a savage jerk. the sound of the tearing fabric was like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. you felt a moment of pure, unbridled rage, but it was quickly swallowed by the cold, numbing acceptance that had become so familiar during your time with him.

his cock pushed into you, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. the pain was a white-hot knife, slicing through the fog in your mind. he was rough, his thrusts hard and fast, like he was trying to claim you all over again. your hands gripped the edge of the bench, your nails digging into the wood. you didn't look at him, focusing instead on the flickering lights above, trying to find a pattern in the chaos to hold onto.

but despite your efforts to remain detached, a moan slipped out, low and desperate. it was like a dam breaking, and suddenly you couldn't hold back the sounds of your body's betrayal. the pleasure built, unwanted, the whiskey making your senses too intense, too alive to ignore. your eyes squeezed shut, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as luigi fucked you, his hips slamming into yours with a brutal rhythm.

his hand left your neck and traveled down your front, his fingers tracing a fiery path down your spine. you shuddered at the contact, a mix of revulsion and unwanted arousal that made your skin crawl. his grip was firm, his fingers digging into your skin, reminding you of the power he had over you, even now. "see?" he murmured, his voice thick with victory. "you still want me."

his thrusts grew deeper, more deliberate, his eyes on yours. "you know i could get you pregnant," he whispered, his breath hot on your face. "wouldn't that be great? you, tied to me for the rest of your life, just like i always wanted." the words were a knife in your soul, twisting and turning until you weren't sure if the moans coming from your throat were from pleasure or pain. "i could do it right now," he continued, his voice a taunt. "make sure you never forget who you really belong to."

the sobs began then, deep and raw, the sound of your own breaking. luigi's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before the smugness returned. he liked your tears, liked that he could still make you cry. his grip on your hip tightened, his thumb digging into your flesh as he pumped into you harder. "that's it," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "just let go."

you didn't want to let go. you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble, but the whiskey and the fear and the memories were too much. the moans grew louder, mingling with your sobs, and you hated yourself for it. your body was responding to his touch, betraying you with every stroke, every thrust. his other hand found your clit, and you bit down on your lip, trying to keep the noises inside.

his eyes gleamed with triumph, his smile cold and cruel. "that's it," he murmured again, his voice a sibilant whisper in the dark. "just like old times." his thumb circled your clit, pressing down with a merciless precision that made your eyes roll back in your head. your hips bucked against his hand, a silent plea for release that was more about ending this nightmare than giving in to his touch.

the orgasm ripped through you, tearing apart what was left of your defenses. your body arched, your nails scraping the bench as you came around his cock, the sound of your cries lost in the music that thumped through the walls. luigi's smile grew wider, his hips moving faster. "see, baby?" he said, his voice a mockery of tenderness. "we're perfect together."

then, without warning, he pulled out, his cock slick with your arousal. you felt the warmth of his cum spurt onto your stomach, painting you with his claim. the act was a final declaration of his dominance, a physical manifesto of his ownership. your eyes snapped open, meeting his in a silent battle of wills. you hated him, hated the way your body responded to him even now, hated the way his cum marred your skin.

his smile never wavered as he tucked himself away and zipped up his pants. "see you around," he said, his voice casual as if you hadn't just been violated in the shadows of a club. and with that, he turned and left you there, trembling and alone. the sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the throb of the music until all that remained was the sticky emptiness of his absence.

[moghedien]

haven't seen the movie yet, but what always got me in the musical version of No One Mourns (by OG Broadway cast to be exact - it's the one I heard the most songs in) is how Glinda's voice goes very high and she seems to sing "no one mourns!" and then "no one!" and it's clear she's having some really intense not so festive emotions unlike the choire, and then you learn the whole story, listen to it again and go "ah; she's mourning and can't show or tell anyone about it and has to play her part"

a theater youtuber I watch sometimes pointed out in his Wicked review that once you've seen Wicked once, its always good to really watch Glinda in No One Mourns the Wicked because whoever is playing her has to make some choices in how they portray her in this moment. Like how good of an actor they think Glinda is, how much she would slip up and show her true feelings versus also not making it too obvious for people who are seeing it for the first time. Its always soooo interesting to see how Glinda is done in this moment, and I specifically looked out for how Ariana did it when I went rewatch the movie and its sooo good imo. Honestly I pretty much immediately stopped thinking of her as Ariana Grande and started just thinking of her as Glinda because of how well she pulled off No One Mourns the Wicked and when she specifically slipped up and let her emotions show

and if we're talking about Glinda's voice, one of the only times we hear her hit those really high notes again (and actually in the obc recording, the highest notes she hits at all) is in Thank Goodness, where the fact that she's lying to the people of Oz and putting on a front is obvious even first time around and kind of the point of the song. Its also the song where she is bluntly saying "this is bad. this isn't what I wanted. I've crossed so many lines without even realizing it and I'm putting on this fake happy face and lying because this is what I've been made into"

and contrast that with, say, For Good, where Glinda is singing the low parts of the song. When we see her at her worst and lying and putting on a fake persona, she's hitting the whistle tones and being very showy, but at her truest and most honest moment where she's getting this one final moment with Elphaba, the only person alive who knows her and loves her and wants her to be Galinda from Shiz and not Glinda the Good, she's singing the low parts of the song.

probably means something

[v1ctor1asecretangel]

Beneath The Midnight Veil

Pre Death!Tate Langdon x Reader

song i recommend listening to: shades of cool by lana del rey

warnings: drug use (alcohol, marijuana and pills), sexual content (make out scene and sexual tension), mature themes (emotional and psychological tension, references to personal struggles, and darker themes)

word count: 1.5k

notes: hey guys!! this is my first fanfic i've written, and i apologize for any mistakes, english is not my first language. and i also apologize if tate it a little ooc, its really hard for me to write EXACTLY like how a character is played! But thank you so much for reading i truly appreciate it so much!! please leave constructive criticism!!

Tate was the embodiment of intrigue and danger. His tousled blonde hair framed his sharp featured face, and those big brown eyes seemed to pierce through the heavy haze of the night. There was a darkness about him that was both terrifying and intoxicating, like an alluring siren calling me closer. He stood against the wall, indifferent to the chaos around him, inhaling from a joint as if seeking solace in the smoke.

I had to remind myself to breathe as I made my way through the throng of bodies. When I finally reached him, he turned his gaze to me, and the world slipped away, leaving the two of us suspended in that moment. 

“Hey.” I said, letting a playful lilt enter my voice, hoping he would break that impenetrable facade. “You’ve been a ghost all night.” (see what i did there😏)

“Maybe I like it better here.” he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. His voice was smooth, like velvet, with an edge of rebellion that slipped just beneath my skin. 

I shivered, not from the cold but from the tension radiating between us. “You know that’s not true. You're just running from something.” I challenged, crossing my arms defiantly.

He chuckled darkly as he took another drag from the joint. “What if I am?” He leaned closer, his breath mingling with the smoke. “What if I don’t want to be found?”

“Then why did you let me find you?” I shot back, unwilling to step down. 

In response, he flicked the joint, letting the ash fall onto the old wood flooring, his eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe I wanted to see if you’d care enough to look.”

The tension between us thrummed heavily in the air, a tangible connection that both exhilarated and terrified me. I could see the shadows lurking in his eyes, the hints of pain that spoke volumes without uttering a word. It was then that I made a decision. The world of alcohol and loud music faded away as I took his hand, tugging him gently towards the door.

“Let’s get some air.” I suggested, my heart racing with anticipation as he complied without protest.

The cool night air enveloped us as we stepped outside, releasing us from the chaos of the party. The moon hung low, casting silvery light over everything, illuminating the edges of Tate’s sharp features. He leaned back against the crumbling stone wall, the weight of the world seemingly resting on his shoulders, and for a moment, the facade dropped. 

“Nice out here.” he murmured, inhaling deeply, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, it is.” I replied softly, taking a seat beside him on the cool stone. I could feel the tension building again, the anticipation crackling like electricity between us.

“Do you wanna try?” he asked, pulling out a small bag of pills. My heart raced faster at the sight. The blue tint of the pills shimmering under the moonlit sky.

I hesitated, but then nodded my head, a part of me craving the excitement and escape. “Just this once.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that familiar wicked smile that always sent a shiver down my spine, handing me one of the pills while he popped one into his mouth. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

I knew I shouldn’t indulge, but the rebellious urge to impress him took over. I swallowed it dry, feeling it dissolve on my tongue, and watched as he did the same, a spark of mischief lighting up his eyes.

Moments passed, the world around us fading into a dreamy blur as the effects of the drug kicked in. I felt weightless, my anxieties and fears melting away like frost under the sun. Tate hovered close, our shoulders brushing as he turned to me, his icy blue gaze intense. “You feel it?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I replied, my heart pounding harder as he leaned closer, those perfect lips just inches from mine.

The city of angels lights glimmered in the distance, but all I could focus on was Tate. His allure, his glide into temptation. I leaned into him, our lips meeting softly at first, hesitant. Though as the world around us spiraled into euphoria, that hesitation faded. 

The kiss spiraled deeper, a dance of passion and desperation, our mouths moving against each other like whispers of promises that needed no words. The cool night wrapped around us like a blanket, shielding us from everything else as he pulled me closer.

“Tate.” I gasped against his mouth, the thrill of the moment crashing into me like waves against the shore. 

“Just hold on.” he murmured, his breath hitching. “Just let it happen.” 

I pressed against him harder, desperation igniting the fire between us, my fingers threading through his hair as I drew him closer until there was no space left. It was wild and messy, our breaths mingling with the remnants of smoke and the hint of drugs. 

Tate’s hands traveled down, gripping my hips as he lifted me, pressing me against the wall. The cold bite of the stone against my back blended with the heat radiating from his body, and I moaned softly, leaning my head back as his lips trailed down my neck.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathed against my skin, pausing for just a moment to meet my gaze, those beautiful dark brown eyes swirling with something deeper. But there was no way I could pull away. 

“I don’t care.” I managed, breathless as he found my lips again, kissing me with passion. 

In the haze of the night, the world around us transformed into nothing but shadows and light. I lost myself completely in him, our kisses becoming more frantic, more desperate, as if the universe had paused for this moment alone. His hands slipped beneath my shirt, fingers trailing up my skin, igniting sparks wherever he touched. 

I gasped as he explored my waist and my breasts, feeling electric currents where he held me. “Tate…” I breathed, each kiss becoming an insatiable hunger, each touch a plea for more. 

He pulled away briefly, fixing me with a look that made my heart race even faster. “I don’t want this to be just a high, you know? You understand?” His voice was low, serious, but laced with that familiar hint of darkness that was so quintessentially Tate.

“I understand.” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment. “But right now, I just want you.”

The way I said it seemed to plunge him deeper into himself, that familiar war raging in his eyes. “You might regret it, sweet girl.” he warned, but the way he leaned in told me otherwise. 

“Maybe.” I replied, melting at the nickname and my confidence blooming under the haze of the night. “But I don't care.”

With a swift movement, he captured my mouth again, deeper this time, as if to drown every doubt growing between us. And I surrendered completely, the adrenaline flooding my system. 

Gradually, he began to push my shirt up, and I gasped at the sensation of him against my bare skin as the cool air hit me. The exchange felt electric, like lighting a fuse that sent shivers running down my spine. I wanted him to touch me like this, to break the barriers that lay between us, and I could feel his desperation to do the same.

“God, you’re beautiful.” he breathed against my neck, and I shivered under the weight of his words, sending a thrill through my veins.

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow. As our bodies moved together, as fingers explored and lips whispered against the skin, it felt like we were the only two souls left in existence. Everything else faded. A distant echo of laughter, the soft pulse of music. Until it was just us, dancing in the shadows of the night.

But then I paused, the warmth of his hands suddenly burning against my skin. I could see the tension rising in his gaze, the remnants of his demons flickering behind those piercing eyes. Reality crashed in, reminding me that I couldn’t get lost in this fantasy forever.

“Wait.” I breathed, pulling back slightly. “Tate, we can’t… what if the others—”

“Shh.” he whispered, brushing his thumb across my lips. “Don’t think right now. Just feel.” 

In that moment, the blend of drugs and desire won, and I nodded, letting him pull me back into him. There was a heaviness in the air, the feeling of crossing uncharted boundaries, and it thrilled me to my core. I could almost taste the connection. The lust pouring from us like smoke. Before he captured my mouth again, the kiss consuming everything else.

As the night deepened, we melted into each other, our bodies finding a synchronicity that felt insurmountable, like we were both too scared to break the spell. We paused only to breathe, laughter escaping my lips as I pulled him close, the shadows whispering secrets around us.

“Stay with me.” I murmured against his skin as I felt his fingers weaving their way through my hair, feeling the heat radiating from his body. 

“Always,” he replied softly, and for a brief moment, I believed him.

Then, as dawn crept closer, the reality of the night began to settle, the thrill giving way to uncertainty. The fleeting happiness felt like a firework, bright, beautiful, but inevitably fading. I saw it in the way he held me, the apprehension etched in the corner of his eyes when he pulled back to really look at me, and the clarity hit hard. 

He was struggling with something darker, a burden I knew all too well. I reached for him, brushing my fingertips against his cheek. “Don’t pull away.” I pleaded softly. “We can work through this.”

He hesitated, the weight of his past looming like a shadow over us. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m here, Tate. I want to be here.” 

The honesty in my voice seemed to evoke something raw within him, something he both wanted to embrace and resist. He was a storm, chaotic and dark, but raging with passion. 

“Just don’t let me hurt you.” he murmured, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead, making me shiver once again. 

And as I looked up into his eyes, I whispered, “You won’t.”

But deep down, that doubt lingered, gnawing at us like the shadows creeping closer. The night brought moments of joy and reckless love, but no matter how pure this connection felt, I knew it came with a price.

As we stood there wrapped in each other, I felt the world shift around us. There was magic in the night, but reality would come crashing down eventually, and when it did, I could only hope we would rise to meet it. Together. 

For now, though, I let the moment drown us. A stunning blend of love and chaos, forever suspended in the shades of cool, as the dawn snuck up behind us, threatening to unveil the truth.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for giving my friends new GF a 'shovel talk'?

I (29X) have a DnD group comprised of people I've known for minimum 4 years, but most of them up to 7-8 years. They're all about 6 years younger than me, and I consider them my little brothers/sisters. One of them, D(24M) lives out of town and uses Discord to join our games. This week he was visiting home and came in person to our game, and surprised us by brining his new GF, M (20s?). This was the first time she'd been mentioned, but were always hip to new people coming by so it's no big deal.

M was very sweet, brought cookies and seemed honestly interested in the game (she was watching, might join in next time), and was generally very kind. At the end of the night when we were all saying good nights, I took her hand and basically told her, seriously, "listen.... these guys, they're my family and I love them. If you hurt him, I'll bury you like a shit on a camping trip."

I mostly kid (id never actually harm someone) but my group really is my family. Someone made the comment at one point that DM actually stands for "Den Mother". M kinda laughed and agreed with me, I explained that one of our other players got the same talk when her Beau brought her to play, and we all parted.

I have wicked anxiety and I'm worried I scared her off or overstepped. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[livestock-and-bibles]

Things I've Noticed During My Several Rewatches of The Doomstar Requiem

(Lock in, this is gonna be long)

Murderface is the only one out of the group to have a completely obscured face, possession foreshadowing perhaps? Also he lacks the golden streaks on the halo-esque circles behind them. Inch resting... (Not gonna talk too much abt when the scene goes red and the beam behind Murderface is dripping blood because I believe it's already been talked about before by others, and I don't want to include anything in this post that's already been discussed) Also I love how all of their weapons match their instruments

The way Toki doesn't even flinch when he gets alcohol poured on his wound is heartbreaking, likely either because the torture his parents put him through as a kid has given him a wicked pain tolerance or because he's so dissociated, similarly to how he behaves in Dethfam when his parents are around or Dethzazz when he's mentally in the punishment hole (I do believe this sort of catatonic state he's in is what's causing him to seem so much worse off than Abigail—though his untreated diabetes + Magnus targeting him more because of his relation to Dethklok probably also adds to it—he's likely not really eating or taking care of himself)

At first I thought that Magnus was feeding them dog food, but on closer inspection I actually believe it to be human remains. Yeesh. You can see it really looks like muscle fibers, and there's bones, as well as skin that still has hair on it. Magnus Hammersmith they could never make me like you

On the table is the Klokateer from Tracking/Ishnifus and The Challenge!!

I think it's interesting how much Nathan's fantasies look like Toki's! I just think it's neat! They're more similar than they seem :)

This is the most expressive we've ever seen Charles and it makes my heart hurt AUUGHH

The way Nathan licks his lips/teeth after the "How can I be a hero when my dick's as big as a shoe" line. DISGUSTING /affectionate

Does this fan look familiar? He should, because it's Dethklok's son, Fatty Ding Dong!! Good to see he's doing well lol, and his real name is Rick, we can also assume that at LEAST four years have passed since season 1, since in season 1 episode 10, he's said to be 14. Since he has a roommate now, he is likely to be around 18 years old

(Apologies for the low quality screencap I had to nab this from Youtube) I kind of wish that the animators didn't change this original animation for the end of The Fans Are Chatting. I just feel like Nathan pushing away the Klokateers is more symbolically relevant. Nathan is quite literally pushing away the safety and security his avoidance has given him, the hologram disappearing and the fans leaving is a metaphor for the fact that he can no longer keep himself deluded into thinking that everything is fine, he can't hide from the truth anymore

Almost all of the Rock A Roonie Fantasy Camp counsellors came to the Dethklok audition, there's even the depressed blues guy in the background. There's also Sammy Candynose from Snakes 'n Barrels, so I like to think that Pickles told him about the auditions

There's also the guitarist from Get Thee Hence

Toki's shadow!!! The wings!!!

The animals they take the form of match two of the guitars Brendon Small created with Gibson, The Thunderhorse and the Snow Falcon :D

It's super tiny but their smiles :'))!!! Also the way their parts play on different sides when you listen with headphones but then combine at this part makes me so crazy. Not only does Toki challenge Skwisgaar and inspire him to get better, but they're also having fun! Which I can imagine never really happened when he played with Magnus

Probably just an animation error but Skwisgaar is animated as his present day self here. Idk, just thought that was interesting

I think the order of the rest of the band joining in on the background vocals is really interesting, it goes: Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, Murderface. Personally I choose to interpret it as a representation of how long it took each member to warm up to Toki as their rhythm guitarist, Skwisgaar was super fast since he was the one to choose him, Pickles was the one wanting a new guitarist in the first place, Nathan and Magnus seemed to be close, so it would definitely take more time for him to accept Toki as the whole Magnus situation would still feel a little raw, and Murderface is a professional hater so of course it took him the longest

I really love just how soft and content Murderface looks in Toki's fantasy. We all know he has a softer side and I think that either Toki perceives it, or possibly Murderface shows it towards him (Which I can believe because they're often together and they get along pretty well, Toki is probably the person Murderface gets along with the best actually)

I also want to mention that at this part of I Believe, Toki is no longer singing along with the other's background vocals, and is harmonizing with himself, which gets really sad when you realize that it's because this was just Toki remembering this to keep himself sane and he's actually kidnapped, hurt, and alone. Ouch :(

The drunk driver who crashed into the Jomfru brothers is the same guy who crashed into Nathan's second grade class in Dethgov. I guess there's only one drunk driver that exists in the Metalocalypse universe lol

I think we as a fandom need to appreciate Eric Jomfru more. He's such a real one. The way they make you care about him after he's already gone is so evil lol /affectionate

The way the Klokateers join in on this song makes me wonder if perhaps they view each other as brothers, or if there's just like a strong sense of brotherhood between them

The groupie on the left can actually be seen in Fatherklok at the beginning of the episode, as one of the women Skwisgaar has been with, so y'know what? She has valid reasons to be mad honestly

Murderface's pose up top always sends me, sir please calm down, keep it together king

Murderface holding his wrist :(

If you look closely, you can actually see that the Revengeancers are eating Ishnifus. Which is just,, utterly horrifying

In between the shots of the band and the assassin, there's so many inconsistencies in the placement of the characters. For the last two images, I just like to rationalize it as Pickles immediately attempting to run away, then noticing that the rest of the band is still there and being like "Oh shit we're squaring up? Ok I guess". I know it's just so Nathan can be in the center when they use the Dethlights but I just think it's funny

Also in the second to last picture, the way Murderface, typically the most cowardly of the band, isn't looking at the assassin, but instead, is looking worriedly at Toki, makes my heart hurt. I adore their relationship

Murderface is actually sleeping in Nathan's bed here. If you compare different shots of their bedrooms and beds, it's clear that this is Nathan's, you can tell from the striped pillowcase. I'm not gonna talk too much about this, mostly because I want to make a separate post talking about how Murderface is seen more than once sleeping in Nathan's bed when he's hurt/unwell. It's very sweet lol

ANYWAY! Thanks for reading these rambles, I love The Doomstar Requiem so much! I might make a post like this for Army of the Doomstar as well, and also just some analysis posts if I get the confidence lol. Big thanks to @ratskal for watching this a dozen times with me and pointing out things too. (I actually reached the max limit of pictures allowed in a post which is a little funny, I am so normal about this show /lying)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Barbara Stanwyck (Ball of Fire, The Lady Eve, Double Indemnity)—I hope someone else has submitted better propaganda than I because I don't want my girl's prospects to rest on me just yelling PLEASE VOTE FOR MY TERRIBLE HOT GIRLFRIEND. She is a delight in everything! She is often a sexy jerk! (It's most of the plot of Baby Face!) Even when she plays a "good girl" (as an example, Christmas in Connecticut, which more people should see) she's still kind of a jerk and I love her for it! She won't take men's shit and she sure wouldn't take mine!

Margaret Lockwood (The Wicked Lady, The Lady Vanishes)— Gorgeous feisty funny talented and the sexiest stubborn face ever committed to film. And if people haven't seen the original Wicked Lady they need to be introduced to a glorious poly highway romp of a film. When a woman outsneers James Mason you know she has sex appeal!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Margaret Lockwood:

Barbara Stanwyck:

"THE leading lady of the golden age of hollywood. One of the only actresses to work independent of a studio, making short-term contracts that enabled her to make movies wherever she wanted. She had so much range, and could act in basically any genre. She's been rumored to be a lesbian literally since she was active in Hollywood; most notable is the rumor that she had a long time on-and-off relationship with famously bi Joan Crawford, her "best friend" for decades (They lived right next door to one another). She also lived with Helen Ferguson, her "live-in publicist" for many years. She was the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity, and really pushed sexual boundaries in her pre-code films like Baby Face, and the famous screwball The Lady Eve, where she plays basically a downlow domme. Allegedly, when a journalist asked her if she was a lesbian, she straight up threw him out of her house. She even played a lesbian in Walk on the Wild Side"

"THE queen of screwball comedies. I adore her, I'd kill for her, I will cry if she's not gonna win this poll."

"listen ok she had awful politics she was a mccarthyist right wing wacko BUT she's so incredibly hot that i've deluded myself into believing i could fix her. if you see her onscreen she carries herself in a way that's just so effortlessly sexy AND she has just a stunning face. imo she was at her hottest in the 1940s but even as early as the late 1920s she had a rly captivating screen presence and just a beautiful face, and then post-1950 she was just irresistibly milfy so really she was just always incredibly hot. she was also an incredibly talented actress who was equally stellar in melodrama, film noir, and unhinged screwball comedy. the blonde wig they made her wear in double indemnity is notoriously silly looking but she still looks sexy in it so that's gotta count for something. i've watched so many terrible movies just for a chance at seeing her that i think her estate should be paying me damages."

"Not often thought of for her sultriness, Barbara Stanwyck was incredible in that she could actually choose to be hot if the role called for it, and then have a glow-down to look ordinary for another role. She wasn't the most beautiful or effervescent, but damn did she have rizz. Watch her with Gary Cooper in Ball of Fire teaching him about "yum-yum" or with Henry Fonda in The Lady Eve whispering huskily into his ear."

"She is always the smartest woman in the room. Watching her play Henry Fonda like a befuddled fiddle in The Lady Eve was a highlight of my life. Femme fatale in Double Indemnity, comedy queen in Ball of Fire. She can do anything."

"She was part of my gay awakening"

"SHE'S A PRE-CODE QUEEN. She did everything, drama, comedy. The most beautiful woman in the world to watch weep. Beg for to step on you with those legs. Fun Babs story: Ginger Rogers was offered the role in Ball of Fire but said, “Oh, I would never play that part, she’s too common.” So they called Barbara Stanwyck and they said “We offered this to Ginger Rogers but she’s turned it down, would you be interested?” And she read the script and she said; “You bet! I LOVE playing common broads. [link]"

[tobi-smp]

this was Originally a response in a reply thread [Link] but I've decided that I'd like people to actually SEE IT fadsjklfasd

so ! here's an expansion on my ideas about dream manipulating Everything into place up until the disc war finale, Including technoblade.

How To Blow Up A Country From The Inside: A Step By Step Guide

(by Dream "Was" Taken)

1: dream Intentionally set up the final control room to sow doubt and mistrust. he didn't Need to have eret be in out, he didn't Need eret to make a big show of betraying l'manberg. but it was done Intentionally.

both to hurt the l'manbergians, And to push some of the heat off of him.

because it WAS eret who took most of the heat after the war was over. that's exactly the Point of having a shadow king. to act as a figure head and scapegoat while still listening to everything that dream said (and to be swapped out at will whenever it's convenient).

oh Dream isn't the king, Dream didn't blow up l'manberg. dream's just Some Guy, who Happens to not want people to gate off his house. don't think about it too much. it's a Very intentional strategy on his part.

2: it can be inferred that techno and dream's duel Was canon to the dream smp, or at the Very Least that techno and dream were familiar with each other before he joined the server. dream is Very aware that techno is one of the very few people on the server who could put up a real fight against him, which makes him a Person Of Interest.

3: dream Intentionally allowed schlatt to do his hostile takeover. he would Claim that he was Only following the agreement with l'manberg, that it was So Sad that his hands were tied, but schlatt's actions directly went Against said agreement. he was presenting himself as an ally to the pogtopians while Actively refusing to materially step in.

meanwhile, we know he was making a deal with schlatt behind the scenes, both to get into his good graces, And to get his hands on the revival book.

4: he was Very Intentionally playing four sides here.

singling tommy out to present himself as His Friend, denying it in public but playing nice with him when it's just the two of them. addressing "Tyrant" SPECIFICALLY to tommy [Link 1, Link 2], where he presents himself as an ally while providing excuses for why he couldn't Materially do anything, and at the same time providing tommy a chest full of supplies directly. helping tommy in the pet war, even when that meant hurting sapnap, Etc.

.

meeting techno in secret to Also give him items, scope out him and his intentions, and Hopefully get on his good side. he is Also, presumably, aware of techno's role in the antarctic empire (or whatever the dream smp equivalent of that was, it's unclear if it was Literally smp earth or not).

.

very Very actively enabled wilbur's downward spiral and distrust. providing him with the tnt to blow up l'manberg, starting the rumor about the traitor in pogtopia, actively egging him on.

.

and of course, playing as schlatt's muscle. watching as schlatt drove everyone else away but giving him the false confidence to continue on to the war, to the Breaking Point.

5: the end goal of all of this being the ultimate destruction of every party involved. he lead the pogtopians to schlatt to let them kill him. he shouted in absolute wicked Glee when wilbur blew l'manberg up and killed himself, telling tommy that Wilbur had been the traitor and joined in the destruction.

I've written before about how I think dream Intentionally pushed wilbur into killing himself, to take him out as a threat yes, but More than that because he was Jealous of him and what he had [Link]

but I think it ALSO needs to be pointed out that dream INTENTIONALLY provoked techno into not only splitting from pogtopia, but Very specifically to pit him against tommy.

to be clear, it was ultimately techno's choice to do what he did. he Chose to do that big speech, to attack his former friends, to set himself as a threat, to join wilbur in bombing l'manberg. he Has agency.

but dream 100% wanted this to happen. he Knew that pogtopia and techno's goals weren't aligned, he Knew that techno has a tendency to react violently, and this was advantageous from Multiple angles.

it's a repeat of the eret situation. just like with wilbur, it's demoralizing and frightening. it breaks their spirits AND pulls attention away from him. he'd greased the wheels that lead to l'manberg's destruction, that lead to wilbur's death, but he was Never the loudest one in the room. schlatt was dead, but Techno wasn't. Techno set himself up as the most immediate threat, having vowed to come back to destroy them again if they made another government. even Phil was out there saying that Techno was the traitor in pogtopia while fighting off his withers.

.

it set TECHNO up at a disadvantage if dream ever needed to "deal" with him. in a one of one fight either one of them COULD make it out on top, but if techno had everyone else in l'manberg as an ally that might actually tip the scales, and he can't have that. in a single night techno lost every one of the allies he'd spent weeks making on the server, lost his base, and had to start off again from scratch, all while branding him with the reputation of a traitor. it was the consequences of his own actions, but it was Exactly What Dream Wanted To Happen

.

it Very Specifically split techno and TOMMY'S relationship. dream wanted wilbur dead because of what he had, because He was tommy's brother, his leader, the person he'd follow to the ends of the earth. but Techno was one of tommy's idols when he joined the server too, they'd been allies and they could've been Friends (tommy had certainly thought they'd been friends). dream Needed to separate them, so that techno would never come between him and what he wanted.

techno Chose to defect from l'manberg, but it was Dream that came out the other side with everything he'd wanted.

and he was Right. Yes dream was on the chopping block for new l'manberg (ala quackity's hit list). but it was Techno that they'd wanted to kill first. it was Techno that was the immediate threat, Techno that they plastered wanted posters for. dream let techno take the fall Exactly the same way eret did.

6: of course, we have exile. we have dream framing tommy for griefs across the server the Day after l'manberg was destroyed [Link]. you have dream taking advantage of tommy griefing george's house (something completely normal on the smp) to set tommy up, to pit him Against new l'manberg and Tubbo in particular. you have him threatening l'manberg and framing it as a punishment for tommy's actions. his open manipulation of tubbo.

he got rid of wilbur, he got rid of techno, and then he pit tommy against tubbo and took him away. and he was designing pandora's vault and testing out the revival book all the while. continuing to manipulate and watch new l'manberg and techno once tommy was gone.

7: dream Knew about the list, or at least knew that l'manberg was after technoblade. and I think it's really interesting to look at what he actually chose to Do.

because he Could Have helped in a Much more direct way, openly allied with techno and prevented him from experiencing the trauma of death at all. but he chose to help Just Enough to put techno in his debt while Keeping techno as the number one threat.

he Could have openly fought off new l'manberg, he could have let techno die and use the revival book on him after the fact (letting new l'manberg think he was dead and get them off of techno's back). instead he lead techno to the totem beforehand, and lead him back to carl after.

enough for techno to escape, enough for techno to Know what dream did for him, but Not enough for new l'manberg to move the heat back to Dream.

and importantly, it's setting techno up to get revenge. because dream Could Have stepped in to stop them Immediately if he Really wanted to protect techno from the goodness of his heart.

once again, everyone made the choices that they did on purpose. new l'manberg Chose to execute techno, techno Chose to provoke them in the first place, and techno would Choose to get his revenge.

but dream very intentionally tipped the scales to move everything in HIS favor. to advantage HIM, and disadvantage everyone else.

8: likewise, dream had initially been nervous about tommy staying with techno. it was what he'd been trying to avoid after all.

and we can see that in his behavior, we can Watch him stalking them in the background of multiple streams, and of course he visited techno's house Directly. by this point dream already KNEW that tommy was there, he'd seen them together.

dream is a manipulator, and he wants to use techno, but he's willing to do a LOT to keep tommy under his thumb.

the tipping point was, of course, the confrontation at the portal.

dream confronting tommy and techno directly, dream trying to assert his control over tommy. and at first techno steps in, tells him that tommy's with him.

but then he offers the favor. tommy's with him, Unless He Wants To Cash In That Favor. and that told dream everything he needs to know.

dream KNEW that techno and tommy's falling out was coming, and he Also knew Exactly how techno reacts to "betrayal." and what's more, tommy's relationship with new l'manberg, with Tubbo, was being set up to degrade even More thanks to his association with techno.

techno would stop at nothing to destroy l'manberg, and tommy would do anything to save it. they would never last, and tommy would be destroyed when it happened.

he let them go Intentionally, with the hope that this would all crash and burn. to destroy tommy's connections and reputation to ash. to chip away that much further at tommy's moral, at his soul.

9: and in many ways, he was right. exactly what he wanted to happen DID happen, and it was the direct result of him provoking the situation further.

tommy and techno had their falling out, he got his hands on the disc, tommy and tubbo's relationship boiled over.

dream got everything he wanted, except for tommy's spirit. loyal to the absolute end.

techno and tommy Could have been friends, tommy Wanted them to be friends.

10: doomsday. l'manberg destroyed to bedrock, techno isolated from the rest of the server, everyone's spirit's ground to dust. dream told tommy that this was Fun, that their story would never be over, while standing above the ash.

pandora's vault would be complete soon, and in it he had a place for the axe of peace, for carl. in it, he had a place for tommy, his most prized possession.

techno CHOSE to do what he did, but dream lead everyone to the paths they took On Purpose. he Wanted their relationships to fall apart. he WANTED everyone to be isolated and broken so he could take what was "rightfully" his. he WANTED to keep everyone on a leash until he could own the entire server in a more Complete way than simply being the server owner.

and this is important to me specifically BECAUSE of what could have been and what would have never been allowed to happen. Because of the ways that techno and tommy cared about each other, and yet were fated to be torn apart.

tommy Chose to defy dream when it mattered, to defeat him through his Connections. through his love for the people around him. while techno did exactly what dream wanted him to.

but it's just like.

when I see people talk about what could have been they'll pick scapegoats like quackity or wilbur, or even tubbo or phil. but never Dream. the person who wanted nothing more than to set them up to fail. who DELIGHTED in it.

and it's so INTERESTING to me. it's so Interesting that the person who used and manipulated techno was Undeniably dream. who saw him as a meat shield, who set him up to hunted down, who isolated him, who fully intended to use him to his fullest.

dream WAS the tyrannical force that techno was so opposed to, dream WAS the person who'd disadvantaged techno the most, and yet they Never get set up as being enemies. either in the story proper or in the fandom.

and that's CRAZY to me !!!! the biggest antagonist to techno IS DREAM! but you'd never know it looking at the fandom.

and that saddens me as someone who likes all of these characters Very Much. I'd KILL for fic that explores this exactly. for techno to realize the sheer Extent that he'd been lead on and used. that his relationships where burned away On Purpose. that someone who truly did not think of him as a human being drove him away from the person who'd wanted nothing more than to be his friend.

it's craaaaaaaaazy, and I feel like I'm the only one who knows it.

[danosrosegarden]

kinktober idea: edward nashton wearing panties and being fucked in the hole like a little sissy pillow princess, m or f reader works ^_^

comfort zone - edward nashton x fem!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

kinktober 2024: 2/31

{contents ♡ strap usage, teasing reader, praise}

{word count ♡ ~700}

♡ the secret felt like rusted grime he couldn't quite wash away from the pads of his fingers. if he'd take a second to think about it logically, edward would come to the conclusion that it was harmless. he just liked to play dress up, that's all. who was he hurting by rifling through your drawers while you were out? but logic and clear thinking wasn't part of the equation in moments like these. it was just sweat-soaked skin and panting. swiveling hips and a head thrown back in ecstasy.

♡ what really made the sizzling hot shame sear into his skin was that reaction. it was bad enough that he spent his free time trying on your underwear. it was even worse how much he loved it.

♡ he liked dragging his fingers along the small satin bow sewn near the top. he liked the feeling of the delicately woven lace laid against his skin. he liked the pretty colors, the pretty patterns, the pretty textures. goosebumps prickle on his skin each time he pulls the garments over himself. already hard, already leaking. he tries to skirt around staining the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care much when he's rubbing himself through the lace and chewing down on his lip to stifle the whimpers. god, it's so good. and it's utterly disgusting.

♡ he's panicking and nearly reduced to tears when you catch him one evening. he thought you'd be out for longer! no, no, don't look! he's sorry. he's so, so sorry. he understands if you never want to see him again. he's sorry. he's sorry.

♡ it was almost as if you could hear the woosh of his frenzied heart as you walk over to where he's sat on your bed and grab hold of his hands.

♡ you say there's nothing to worry about, nothing to feel ashamed over. he doesn't believe it for a second. his eyes are filling with glossy, humiliated hot tears and he's shaking his head with shame. you're trying to let me down easy. i know you think i'm weird. just go. that's what you want, i know it.

♡ well, if he's going to be a little bitch about it, you suppose you have no choice but to prove he doesn't need to fret.

♡ you've toyed around with the strap before, and he went wild for it every time. you liked to see him like that, so eager and open. so ready to beg for more, please, i need more. the adorable ways he'd try negotiating: i've been so good for you! i've been your good boy. please, please, i'll take whatever you give me. it nearly sent you over the edge, watching him crumble into incoherent pieces. all for you.

♡ you're yanking him out of his comfort zone by making him keep the panties on, just tugging them down and out of the way as you slide into him and feel him deflate with pleasure. you're aware that it's probably frightening. but his slack jaw doesn't look like resistance. his hands desperately gripping at the sheets don't feel like apprehension. and the high, quivering whines spilling from his mouth certainly don't sound like the safe word.

♡ it's undeniably thrilling to watch him work for it. you liked to tease a bit, occasionally slowing your hips and listening to his frustrated groans with a wicked smile.

♡ he didn't even have to form words anymore--his body begged for him. the trembling thighs, the arching of his back. he was delectably malleable.

♡ he melts entirely when you speed back up and fuck into him harder. aren't you a pretty boy! that's my beautiful boy. so good for me. my good little slut, aren't you? yeah, that's right. so worked up for me. can you hold on just a liiitle longer, honey?

♡ one day he wouldn't fight you on his place in your heart anymore. he'd stop squirming away from his dirty little secrets like they were something to feel burning hot shame over instead of letting himself indulge in them with you. until then, there was just no choice but to show him how deeply he was wanted. carnivorously desired. lusted after. hungered for.

[starstruckzine]

A little AU lore...

"Your old man is going to lose it." Keigo chuckled as he watched Touya towel dry his freshly dyed hair. The snow-white locks were pitch black, and his white tee shirt was splattered with patches of purple that matched the scarred tissue covering the lower half of his face and arms.

"Like he'll even notice." Touya scoffed as he grabbed his guitar off the bed. "The only way Endeavor would ever pay attention to me is if I set the city on fire," he paused, a wide grin crossing his lips as he added, "or killed someone."

"Don't even joke about that, you psycho."

Touya played a few chords and laughed at the worry in his best friend's voice. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Birdie. I've got a different plan in mind for the future."

🌟

Dabi read through the email he'd received a few minutes earlier from the band's manager. Their record label was putting together a tour; some big, fancy music festival that would travel the world over the span of a year. The details were being finalized, and Cremation had been invited to take part in the event.

A faint smile curled his lips as he turned and stared out the window of his penthouse apartment. The sky was dark, but the city was an ocean of colors: red and gold and bright white sparkling into the distant horizon. Maybe he hadn't become a hero like his father, but Touya Todoroki made a name for himself. And he did it on his own terms. Now, millions of people admired him, listened to his songs, and crawled over one another to buy his merchandise.

In a lot of ways, he'd surpassed Enji Todoroki, was living for it.

His phone rang, vibrating against the desk. He didn't need to glance at the screen to know who was on the line before he answered the call. "Hey, Birdie. I'm gonna guess you saw Compress's email."

Keigo chuckled. "World tour, huh?"

"That's what it says."

"Ever think we'd see the day?"

Dabi glanced at the display case in the corner of the room. A soft blue light illuminated the interior where a single guitar hung. It was just an old acoustic model, plastered with a collage of skulls and crosses. The brand name had worn off long before he ever touched it, but he never cared about labels anyway.

"Of course, I did. Everything worked out according to my plan."

A small blue flame lept from the palm of his hand. He watched it flicker as he listened to Keigo rattle off a list of places he wanted to visit during the tour. The bird's early childhood years  made him desperate to explore as much of the world as possible. Dabi's determination to succeed had almost as much to do with giving Keigo that freedom as it did with showing up his old man.

Now, all of their dreams were about to be realized on a scale he never dared to imagine.

"You're gonna run me ragged this entire tour, aren't you?" Dabi groaned as he extinguished the flame, but a grin stole across his lips. The social media opportunities would be limitless. So many chances to throw his fame in Endeavor's face.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you there's no rest for the wicked?" Keigo was laughing now, the excitement obvious in his voice.

Dabi chuckled, too. He'd strayed towards more nefarious paths when they were younger, considered actions that would have gotten him branded as something worse than "bad boy rock star". Somehow, Keigo always managed to drag him back in the right direction, kicking and screaming at times, but he was grateful for the support. Thinking about how things could have ended up without the bird made him cringe.

"Seriously, though," Keigo said suddenly, no trace of humor left in his tone, "I don't think I've ever thanked you."

"Thanked me? For what?"

"Are you kidding? For the music. The band. For making sure I didn't end up like my old man... Or yours."

"Like hell you'd - "

"Touya, shut up and let me finish. I'm just saying that my life could have gone a lot of different ways, but I'm grateful for where I ended up. I don't have a single regret about where I'm headed, and it's because of you."

Dabi was silent for a long moment, unsure how to respond. He glanced over at the desk and saw two new notifications on his phone. One was a text from Himiko, and the second was another email from Compress, titled "Please Review".

"If you're really grateful, you'll swear not to snore the entire tour. I need my beauty sleep."

"Don't change the subject. I'm trying to be vulnerable here."

There was a long pause before they both busted out laughing. Dabi sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. "We should go out and celebrate. My treat."

"Not gonna pass that up. Want me to invite the others?"

"We can plan something with them after we sign the contract. Tonight, we'll go haunt that little bar where we played our very first gig."

"You don't mean..."

"That's the one."

"No wonder you offered to pay."

The place was a small, hole-in-the-wall, dive bar where they'd played some gigs when they were still pretty young - too young to be in a bar - but the owner overlooked that little detail and paid them under the table. It was just the two of them in those days, but the money they made helped to pay for new equipment as their band and their popularity grew.

"You can pay then."

"Hey now, slow down. You were kind enough to offer, and it'd be rude of me to refuse. I'll let you pay."

"Sounds like a plan. You can pay when we take the rest of the band and Compress out to celebrate."

Dabi pictured the shift in Keigo's expression as he realized what just happened.

"Now wait -"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Birdie." Dabi interrupted, chuckling. "It was a joke. I'm gonna jump in the shower then hop on my bike and ride ovrr. Meet me there in an hour."

ZINE INTEREST CHECK

[ofcowardiceandkings]

so in those [mumble mumble] years between BotW and TotK, the Zora replaced the weathered and unreadable monuments with new history writing by Sidon, and their contents have left me hmm emotionally compromised ??

i was gonna list em out in full but then i read them all and Sidon waffles so much bless him LOL

full transcripts below (+ the 11th monument in the Domain itself) expect Sidon being an adorable goof, Zora Deep Lore, waterbending, SO much gushing over Mipha and Link, Zelda being a sweetheart, and surprise Yona content !!!

just for clarity, i've highlighted the first word of each on-screen chunk of text ... i love Sidon so much but he's so verbose i kept missing the full log lol but im glad he went all in, its earnest, descriptive and poetic :') 💙 RIP the stonemasons ...

Learnings of the Zora, Part One The Waters of Zora's Domain As told by Prince Sidon

Long, long ago, right here in Lanayru, incredible transformations, both subtle and drastic in nature, shaped the land. The tall mountains birthed clouds, these clouds cried tears of rain, and this rain filled our deep valleys past the brim. In time, this overflowing water became the Zora River, which bred waterfalls that fell and nourished the vast Lanayru Wetlands. Perhaps it was inevitable that my Zora ancestors, who wandered in search of precious water, would finally settle here. The mountains of Lanayru are blessed with high-quality stone. The structures built from said stone are solid yet refined. Just like the Zora and our domain, our buildings exist in harmony with the water. It is a beautiful symbol of our way of life. If you go to the edge of the domain, close your eyes, and listen closely ... you shall be greeted by the gentle sound of water. This kind, soothing sound is a testament to the happy life the Zora are so grateful to have found here. As one born of royal Zora blood, my duty is as clear as it is unshakeable. I, Sidon, swear here and now ... I shall protect our home with my very life, that the gentle sound of water may never cease in our beloved domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Two The Legend of Ruto, Our Great Ancestor As told by Prince Sidon

It is written that long ago there was a strong-willed Zora princess who was as meandering as a winding river. This princess, who was dearly loved by her fellow Zora, was noble as she was innocent. Her name was Ruto. One day, a powerful and wicked man tried to take over Hyrule and brought great ruin to the once-peaceful Zora's Domain. Our tales speak of falled Zora soldiers drifting down the river as it sadly reflected the chaotic retreat of the terrified Zora. Princess Ruto bravely fought back her tears and she bore witness to the tragic misery unfolding in the domain. Even amid her heartbreak, the Zora princess did all she coult to help the weak and elderly escape. Next she swam against the river's current and climbed the mighty waterfall to challenge her foe. The details of this fight have fallen victim to the haze of time. Few details remain. Still, it is said she was aided by the princess of Hyrule and the hero of legend, and together they saved Hyrule. So the legend goes. I, Sidon, prince of the Zoram cannot help but ponder these events as I listen to the Zora children play in all their innocence. As Princess Ruta's descendant, it is my fate to carry the torch of her brave acts into tomorrow and beyond. I shall not fail.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Three The Great King Dorephan As told by Prince Sidon

Several springs after I lost my dear sister, Mipha, a large group of Lizalfos attacked the domain. It mattered not that this was my first true battle. The expectations of those around me weighed heavy on my shoulders. The absence of Mipha, who had always been there to encourage me with loving kindness, was like a spear to my heart. As for my own spear, though I was highly trained for its use, it seemed to only cut the air and slash the water's surface. I was taken off guard by a surprise attach from three Lizalfos hiding at the water's edge, each with their blade fixed on me. I knew that my time had come ... and that is when the three Lizalfos disappeared, as quickly as they had arrived. In their place, I saw the towering figure of my father, the great King Dorephan, who had just bested my foes with ease. "Sidon, my son," he said firmly. "You allwed your heart to falter. That is the quickest way to fall on the battlefield." His words cut deep, but as I stood on the brink of dispair, a familiar gently encouraged me. "Your king needs you." Many soldiers later attested they were certain they had also heard the sweet voice of Mipha on that day. From then on, my heart was true and my resolve firm. By lending strength to our king, we were able to save the domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Four Two Sisters of Different Blood As told by Prince Sidon

When I was young, I had an irrational fear of strangers. I was particularly bashful around Yona. Paralyzed, even. She was already so mature in manner, and she treated me like a little brother, even though we were not related. There came an unseasonably heavy rain that quickly flooded the river. Us children, who were playing there, were swept away. I was battered by the water's strong flow, my fins helpless to resist. It was Yona who dragged me to the safety of the shore. The water continued to swell as the shore waned, but Yona was unflappable, sweetly comforting me as I shivered in fear. It was Mipha, my dear sister, who finally showed up to rescue us with other Zora adults in tow. I still remember Yona's face as she gazed up at Mipha in admiration. My face must have looked the same as I gazed at Yona. As a child, I had two big sisters. One by birth and one by chance. Yona looked up to Mipha, and I was in awe of them both. Before I knew it, years had passed, and my feelings for Yona became more difficult to quantify. Then, one day ... My father informed me that the amazing young woman who had once been a like a sister to me was to be my bride. Perhaps these feelings and memories are too dear and private to commit to history, but such is the tale of this Zora prince.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Five The Zora Armor She Left Behind As told by Prince Sidon

For some time after I lost my beloved sister, even in the light shining on the water seemed dark and dreary to my eyes. But as they say, time heals all wounds, no matter how deep. I can now speak of her with a smile, as is only fitting. I shall now tell the tale of the Zora armor that my sister crafted for her future husband, as per our ancient custom. One dark day, the domain was in great peril, and I sought help from a traveling Hylian to save our home. He was sparing with his words, yet I trusted him at once. As fate would have it, he was a childhood friend of Mipha's. My father, King Dorephan, troubled by the domain's suffering, requested his help. The swordsman agreed without hesitation. Father bequeathed my sister's Zora armor to this courageous soul, along with her hopes for the safety of the domain. The armor fit Link perfectly - so perfectly that councilman Muzu, who then harbored a hatred of Hylians, could not object. My sister had already left this world, and with her went the dearly held intentions that she had instilled within that special armor. Yet, with Link's help, she shined a light on the Zora in our hour of need, reaching between worlds with gentle fingertips.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Beginning As told by Prince Sidon

There was once a terrifying monster on Ploymus Mountain, loosing shock arrows on all who dared to cross its path. It was of utmost importance to drive the beast away, but as the Zora are weak to electricity, our efforts were futile. That is when a lone Hylian arrived at the domain. This swordsman who was sparing with his words ... his name was Link. Unlike us Zora, he was immune to shocks! Well perhaps that is an exaggeration, but one thing is certain. He was very brave. After careful preparation, he ascended Ploymus Mountain and defeated the foul beast all by himself. As if in celebration of newfound peace, clean water mysteriously began flowing at the top of Ploymus Mountain. That is when many Zora, if not most, voiced support for building a place that all could enjoy in that formerly frightful spot. Yet the many tree roots and stones made this task tricky, leading to a focus on the no-less-difficult matter of the name. "Zora Park" was too obvious. "Ploymus Park" only conjured images of the former terrors found there. When I candidly asked whether we should focus on the hard work at hand rather than the name, they all turned my way. "Prince Sidon," they asked. "Surely you must have a good suggestion?" To that, I fell silent, and stayed so for a long while. I shall write the conclusion of this story on another monument.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Conclusion As told by Prince Sidon

The first half of this tale can be found on another stone monument. If it is not too much trouble, I advise reading that first. I now present the conclusion. When posed with the task of naming this storied location, I, Prince Sidon, fell silent. After a time, I timidly proposed the one and only name that came to mind for this place of newfound peace. I suggested that we name it after my beloved sister who had long been lost to us ... Mipha Court. I worried they would think I was unfairly favoring my own family's legacy by naming it after my kin. A hush fell over the group. After a time, one of the stonemasons raised his voice in agreement. More voices joined his, one after another. The idea was embraced whlly, and the craftsmen all returned to their work. Though the work was grueling, from then until the completion of Mipha Court, the air was filled with laughter and singing. This incident drove home to my very core how much everyone loved my sister. I hope one day to inspire such admiration. If there is ever to be a Sidon Court, I must work tirelessly to earn that honor.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Seven The Prince and the Swordsman As told by Prince Sidon

The rain always stops ... except when it does not. This humourous saying was once repeated with a soft chuckle around here. Then, one day, heavy rain started falling in the domain, and no matter how many days passed it did not cease. Although the Zora are a water-dwelling sort, we came to miss the warmth of the sun and dry winds upon our backs. Alas, as fervent as our desire was, we had no means of stopping the cause of this unprecedented disaster. When all had given up hope, I, Sidon, took it upon myself to invite a Hylian to the domain. This young swordsman of few words was named Link. I trusted him at once, sensing great devotion in his kind eyes. It was immediately clear that my instincts were correct. Thanks to Link, we were able to face the thread head on. Our battle with the source of the disaster was intense by my newfound friend and I refused to yield until we finally triumphed. Sometimes, writen words flow so much more readily than those spoken ... Link, my dearest friend, you are an unparalleled swordsman, and I admire you so very much. He may lack fins and gills, but it matters not. This hero among heroes exudes magnificence tempered with steadiness. Though we are different, our hearts both yearn to serve a higher calling. I learned much from him, and I am eternally grateful. As I recall my best friend, it occurs to me that though the rains have ceased, perhaps a true adventure never does.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Eight The Princess of Hyrule As told by Prince Sidon

One that despicable disaster had ceased to plague Zora's Domain, a distinguished yet humble lady paid us a visit. This young woman who appeared with Link at her side was none other than Princess Zelda of the royal family of Hyrule. "I beg forgiveness," she said earnestly. "Because of the royal family, Princess Mipha ..." She paused, unable to continue. Small, silent teardrops tumbled down her cheek and hit the floor, one after another, each saying a thousand unspaken words. She gently wiped her eyes and lifted her gaze to meet the king's, speaking kind words of gratitude for Mipha's sacrifice. We knew well that what had transpired was the result of a decision shared by the Zora and by Princess Mipha herself. There was no need for the princess of Hyrule's apology, and even less so for her sorrow. King Dorephan, along with the rest of the Zora, were moved by the depth of Princess Zelda's sincerity. She had held that unthinkable disaster at bay for nearly 100 years with nothing more than the sheer force of her own will. Yet she was not prideful. She dutifully set to work, traveling across Hyrule to secure cooperation for the kingdom's restoration. She was adored by all, yet so humble. She possessed an inner strength, but now I am not so certain. I feel a strong calling one day to acquire this same sort of strength within myself.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote One The Solid Water and the Fluid Spear As told by Prince Sidon

The Zora are not associated with water because of our dwelling place alone. We each also, to varying extents, possess the ability to actually manipulate water. We use this gift for many purposes. We use it to swim faster, to achieve mighty leaps from the waves below, to gather fish, and so much more. For me, the true awakening of this ability that many of my childhood chums already possessed came upon me quite suddenly. One day as I was training at Veiled Falls, the rain slickened my grasp, causing me to drop my spear. I reached to grab it, but it was already too far away. Soon it would fall to the bottom of the cliff, never to be seen again. I knew that I must take old of it, and at that moment, droplets created a stream extending from my outstretched hand. The water stream twisted and turned until it finally took hold of my falling spear and deftly returned it to my grasp. In that moment, the water was solid and my spear fluid. This sensation forever changed my approach to spearplay. I was reminded of how my sister, Mipha, described it ... and everything clicked. Water and spear became as one. Gaining yet another layer of admiration for my dear sister, I devoted myself to my spear training from then on.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote Two The Great Task Entrusted to Me As told by Prince Sidon

I, Sidon, was entrusted with the great task of renovating the Zora stone monuments that had fallen to ruin. There are 11 stone monuments total find in and around Zora's Domain, including the one you are now reading. The former text written by my father, King Dorephan, could not be salvaged, and so sadly it had to be replaced. Despite my royal blood, whispers abound that it is improper for someone my age to write over the king's glorious words. Ah, but do they not realize that it was King Dorephan himself who ordered me to undertake this restoration project? Father says it is not set in stone that I shall be the one to inherit the throne, as it is not a matter of blood alone. If we ask the eternal skies above whether I am fit to rule, they shall remain silent, and so we must look to our fellow Zora. He urged me to use these monuments to share my learnings and speak to our people straight from my heart. Father is older and wiser than I. His sage advice is a gift. As such, I have inscribed my thoughts upon these 11 stones. I do not know how far-reaching my words shall be, but it is my hope that they will reach whoever needs to hear them most. Until one of the descendants writes over my musings many years from now, I pray they resonate with whoever reads them.

WELL there we are, thanks for the history lesson Sidon you absolute sweetie fhjdkdjf i have thoughts and feelings and emotions but i wont make this post any longer than it already is but i love these characters byeeeEEE

[ultraericthered]

I've been very familiar with Wicked for several years now. I read the novel that the musical was based on (which mostly kind of sucked), knew the story of the musical, and have listened to the soundtrack. But it alway sat just okay with me. In particular, the character of Elphaba Thropp, I felt, was a very interesting concept - what if the Wicked Witch of the West was a layered, sympathetic, relatable person whose whole deal was so much more complex than simply being "wicked" for no reason, and that popular image of her as the cruel, nasty, fearsome hag we're all familar with was a myth based in a propagandized narrative spun to turn people against her? With Glinda the Good Witch, the Wizard of Oz, and the land of Oz itself all being deeper and darker than they appeared at a glance? That is fantastic on an imagination level, though it took the musical to fully realize the idea, and we got a great take on the Oz lore and great iteration of the Wicked Witch as a result. But I still didn't feel Elphie was anything too much greater than the character who sourced her (Margaret Hamilton's Witch in particular is a great villain on her own merits), and she sort of started a trend in both parodies and legit works of going for the lazy "they're not truly evil, they're just misunderstood!" villain revisionism, particularly when coupled with the equally lazy "and the people you thought were good guys were actually the real villains!" Count Dracula, Captain Hook, Maleficent, Jafar, Cruella De Vil, the Grinch, Carmen Sandiego, Lex Luthor, Light/Kira and even other lesser villains like the fucking Beanstalk Giant got this treatment over time. It's like Wicked made what was done as a joke with the Big Bad Wolf way back when acceptable to play straight, so it was a sore spot on Elphaba's legacy for me.

But let me tell you...watching Wicked Part 1 in theaters in the year 2024 the other day made something go off in my head. Elphaba's story through just Act 1 alone struck a chord with me that it hadn't before, to the point where I had to hold back tears towards the very end. Suddenly not only was all the political commentary in the story so much clearer and more relevant than it had ever been, but I got Elphie's character arc and a core piece of it that ties directly into that political commentary after it had gone over my head for years.

SPOILERS FOR WICKED PART ONE WILL FOLLOW

So the part of Elphaba's story that got me was her "relationship" with the Wizard of Oz. How she lived her life since childhood idolizing this man, absolutely loving the idea of the Wizard, being thankful to him for every blessing she and the land of Oz had, and dreaming of a day where she'd one day meet him, be apprenticed by him, and become like family with him because if he, the Great and Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself, could accept her, then the entire rest of Oz would have no choice but to accept her too. She'd finally have the mass acceptance, validation, and care from others she'd always yearned for. And yeah, that has to do with her self worth issues and yearning to belong somewhere with someone, and I always got that well before seeing the movie. Struggling with your self esteem and feeling ostracized from the world around you due to having been born different from others with whom you share that world was always the relatable aspect for Elphie for me, 'cause I've been there.

But the stuff with the Wizard once she's actually met him took on a whole new meaning for me now. It's been said ad nauseum now that the idea of some carnival barker huckster fraudster simpleton being put into a position of political power and leadership despite having no actual power and next to no merits to him all while others around him with their own sinister agendas look to curry favor with him in order to use him to their advantage and reap benefits from his position, and these people creating a scapegoat out of whoever can serve as a "common enemy" to unite people in fear, anger, hatred, grievance, prejudice and opposition to, is more timely, hard-hitting and realistic now than ever before, drawing parallel to the rise of our incoming First Felon President and the MAGA nightmare we cannot seem to awaken from. All of it said, all of it true. However, it cuts way deeper for me. In my scenario, the Wizard of Oz isn't the Felon, as I never had any faith or loving for that man and all he did was exceed my reservations about him. The Wizard of Oz is my country, the (former) United States of America itself. Just like Elphaba in Emerald City, on the days following November 5 2024, I had to look at something I'd been taught was Great And Wonderful since childhood, something I'd loved and gone on believing truly was Great And Wonderful for years, and reckon with the harsh truth that I'd learned about, loved, and had wanted to serve something that never actually existed. And the fault doesn't lie with the Founding Fathers and the fundamental creed that America was built upon, which is as Great And Wonderful now as it was all those centuries ago. The fault is with the sad reality that, due to people, ideas, beliefs, systems, institutions, traditional practices, holes and vices in government, and the corrosion of democracy, the nation we've had since the founding, the nation I've lived in from the day I was born, has constantly failed to live up to its own core ideals. People in power still can and do take away "certain inallieable rights" that all humans are born with from the humans born with them, all citizens are not treated with equality, "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" is continously impeded, we are not "indivisible" no matter how fragile the states hold together, there is not "liberty and justice for all", there exists a certain class of people who are, in fact, above the law, the three branches of governments seldom function the way they were made to, and the melting pot isn't "melting" people the right way as much since we've become more exclusionary than inclusive. As with the Wizard and the Grimmerie, this country is run by weak, stupid, mediocre men who are either unable to read the Constitution, or they can but just do not feel inclined to actually follow and respect it in letter and spirit. The only truly good, fair and just thing for a long while was the "self-governing" nature of the populace's participation in democracy and the self-corrections that would be made from it... but that ended up exploited in order to become the very thing that sealed its damnation. My nation was never evil, but at the same time, it has never been great, as it's so often failed to do good. It's a nation of moral goodness in perpetual bondage by the not-so-good that wants to exploit all the good it's capable of for them and their interests alone. "Land of the Free and Home of the Brave?" Sure, but only because the Free and the Brave who've lived here are all far better than it deserves.

And then we reach "Defying Gravity." I always linked the title of this song to Elphaba taking flight on her broomstick. But only now do I grasp the full meaning of that title, and the weight the term holds in its proper context. Elphaba is making a choice to defy Oz. To rebel against a corrupt system by a corrupt government that is corrupting the land and harming vulnerable others. She makes this choice even when what she's rebelling against holds the advantage in all power sans magical and possesses the resources and means to turn the ignorant masses against her and ensure they remain on their side. From the offset, she is very unlikely to prevail. That's why it's like struggling against a greater force that is trying to push you down and can normally easily do so - a force like gravity. And yet Elphie fights. She defies. She does so even if it means she has to make herself look like a villain, reasoning that even if her enemy is great and powerful, and the odds of defeating it seem impossible, it's not more powerful than her skills, her gifts, her convictions and her willpower. And so long as she has those, it can and will never bring her down.

I'd say the lesson here is "domestic terrorism in defiance of your government is good, actually", but it's a little bit more complicated.

So yeah, Wicked Part 1 is a masterpiece and Elphaba Thropp is an inspiration. If what she does is "wicked", then let us all aspire to be as wicked as her as the fight to rejuvinate the soul of our decayed republic and lay claim to a better future for all people in it goes on.

[blackjackkent]

To the sound of ominous giggling from upstairs, Rakha enters Old Garlow's and pushes open the living room door and is immediately shouted at by a short human woman with a mace and a look of determination and terror in her eyes.

"An intruder? These people are under my protection! I'll not let you harm them!"

(A/N: Adrielle is the best. She's definitely scared shitless here and IMMEDIATELY jumps into protection mode anyway. I love her.)

She lifts a hand. Rakha can see the Weave start to twitch and shiver as she begins to summon a ray of divine-tinted magic into her palm. "Hearken to my words, wicked creature!" she cries, her voice rising with every word. "Return to the pit of evil from whence you came!"

Honestly, this isn't what Rakha was expecting.

-----

While I was getting through the initial Barren's Coop section of this quest, I gave a little more thought to the reason Rakha even came in here, and tbh I'm kind of charmed by the whole scenario and the way it plays off the available dialogue here.

Rakha (and Wyll), I've decided, took the flyer entirely at face value; they had no reason not to. This "hag support group" just sounds like a gathering of people who have all been through a traumatic experience - one that Rakha has also suffered.

Until very recently, attending a social event was frankly kind of out of the question for her, while she had the beast crawling around in her skull telling her to kill everyone she met. She doesn't really have much practice at just going to a normal social interaction with other people and trying to make small talk. But Wyll says it will be good for her to give it a try, to take advantage of this group to talk to other people who have all experienced the same thing - to offer help or even to accept it from someone else.

Rakha is... skeptical about the whole business, frankly. After months of getting used to fighting the beast in her head at every turn, she does not yet trust herself to be around strangers or believe that she knows how to be "normal" and meet people and make friends. So Wyll has been talking to her all the way here from Barren's Coop, telling her that she'll do fine, and to just be calm and polite and introduce herself and see what the group is doing. And she has been trying to internalize everything he's been saying and focus on trying to make her best effort.

So she is VERY thrown by Adrielle's immediate jump to threats. If she still had the Urge crawling around, this would almost certainly escalate to violence. But her mind is instead (relatively) clear and full of all the advice Wyll has been giving her on the way over, and so instead she gapes at Adrielle blankly for a few moments, and then says what she was practicing to herself on the way in the front door:

"I'm Rakha. Nice to meet you."

For someone who is not used to making small talk, it's a credible attempt, but it emerges low and gravelly and very strained and distinctly not like a friendly greeting. It definitely doesn't seem to do anything to alleviate the tension of the three hag support group members.

"Don't listen!" the dragonborn says hastily. "Who knows what spells it weaves around us! Quickly, cleric!"

The cleric squares her shoulders and lifts both hands into the air. The Weave begins to swirl and ripple around her more violently. "Helm, protector of all!" she cries. "Grant me the power to ignite this creature's flesh and burn its bones to ash! Begone, monster! Your hag mother holds no power here!"

Rakha's brain, which has been entirely focused on Preparation for the Social Event, begins to catch up to the situation. This is not an idle conversational encounter. These people are actively expecting a hag's attack, and they think Rakha is part of that attack.

Begone, monster. The words sting, and for a moment her jaw works angrily. But she forces steady words out instead, one fist clenching behind her back.

[PERSUASION] "A hag is after you? I can help. I've fought one before," she says, watching the cleric's hand carefully in preparation to throw up a shield against any spell.

(A/N: Lol. Rakha's charisma score is so nutty.)

The cleric and her companions blink uncertainly. The hobgoblin gives a cautious sniff of the air. "Wait," he mutters. "Kled smells no lie."

The cleric pauses, then lets her arms fall to her sides. "Then you speak truth?" she says carefully. "You've fought a hag before?"

Rakha spares a brief moment of fascination for the fact that this hobgoblin can apparently smell falsehood. Then she nods.

The cleric visibly relaxes, and a smile flashes onto her face. "At ease, everyone. We may have found ourselves an ally." She nods back at Rakha. "Forgive the paranoia. We're being hunted by a vile and wicked hag. We feared you her minion. She's already hexed one of us - and any of us could be next."

For better or for worse, this is conversational ground that Rakha is much more comfortable on; she has a considerable history at this point of people telling her their problems and asking her to solve them. "Why is she hunting you?" she asks.

"Because we dared to do the impossible," the woman says gravely, with the air of someone reciting a manifesto. "We dared to fight back. You see, all of us here have fallen victim to a hag's vicious ways. But instead of succumbing to despair, we rose above it. Thanks to Mayrina, our leader. Together we've been helping others who've suffered at the claws of a hag."

Her eyes narrow and her face falls. "Only... Mayrina's been hexed by the very hag who now hunts us."

Rakha blinks; she's startled enough by this that for a moment she forgets to be wary. "Mayrina?" she asks, bemused. "I know her. She was captured by Auntie Ethel."

It's not a memory she looks back on with any fondness. She was still deep in the grip of the beast at that time, and was mostly focused on ripping Ethel apart to the fullest extent of her power. And Mayrina was profoundly ungrateful for their help and shouted in Rakha's face before stomping out.

But to her surprise, the cleric's eyebrows lift and she responds to this news with an expression that resembles nothing so much as... admiration.

"You're the one that saved her?" she asks eagerly. "The one that ventured to the depths of Ethel's lair? I can hardly believe it. You look so... normal."

(A/N: LOLOLOLOL. I can safely say that's the first time anyone has thought that about Rakha, certainly since Act 3 started.)

The cleric looks over her shoulder at her companions, then back at Rakha. "By Helm, perhaps there is hope," she says warmly. "If anyone can help Mayrina, it's you. She's upstairs, but be warned..."

She swallows, casting her eyes upwards towards the ceiling - and towards the sound of maniacal cackling that is echoing through the house. "She's not as you remember her."

[mintydotdoodle]

hello trafficblr and hermitcraft tumblr, I am new here however I fear I am horribly wicked pilled and have been for awhile and will be making it everyone's problem....NOW HEAR ME OUT vaguely wicked inspired desert duo fic where Grian is Elphaba, hybrids/mutants would be the animals within oz/hermitopia. Grian is a hybrid with exceptional natural magical capabilities which leads to him being shunned. He then follows his younger brother, Jimmy, to Shiz/(idk what the alternative school name would be atm). I think it would be interesting to play around with Jimmy having underdeveloped wings or wings clipped to a dangerous degree. When Grian was born they attempted to fully remove his wings from his back to try to hide that he was a hybrid to save the family name as they are a family of political figures, they were unable to do it as his wings and magic worked on instinct to protect himself. So when the mother was pregnant with a second child they wanted to avoid another possible bird boy by doing something that would be an equivalent to chewing milkweed like in the musical, (I'd have to do a ton of research on this stuff but this is just base ideas). This ofc would backfire leading to Jimmy being born with underdeveloped wings which for one reason or another they can't snip off fully. But since Grian was already being treated as a sort of abomination by those around him he was an easy scapegoat and was blamed for somehow bringing hybrid blood into the family or something along those lines.

In this AU hybrids/mutants aren't fully like illegal but like the animals in wicked are treated as second hand citizens. So when Grian shows up with Jimmy, tensions are already high, but one thing leads to another and they then figure out Grian has magic and shit hits the fan. He would've been kicked for being dangerous if not for the fact the Watcher(s) take notice of his knack for magic and wish to use it. I'm thinking of instead of the watchers plural there's just one like a title kind of thing which then takes the place of madame morrible in the musical. Also! I'm thinking some hotguy cuteguy identity shennanigans allowing for Scar/hg to take the place of both Galinda and Fiyero. Which also like I said it wouldn't be an exact one to one retelling of wicked with names switched around, but rather would follow similar storybeats and arcs with some changes. Scar is trying to get The Watcher's attention as working with them is a shoe in for working with the hero commission which he's been trying to do for awhile. Another side note that just makes me giggle too is I unfortunately have Tango cast as Boq in my mind for the sole reason of the Broadway actor's inflection in certain parts of songs sounds like Tango and I cannot unhear it. I think it's also important to mention in this version in my brain with Jimmy as Nessa Rose, he does not become the brutal dictator of this AUs equivalent of munchkinland. He still fucks up on occasion and has stuff to learn and an arc to go through in the story but I didn't want to make him like full brutal dictator. Another casting note in my brain is that doctor dillamond is Docm77 because it just fits.

More just silly stuff with this concept that lives in my brain is that this all started with me listening to defying gravity and being like man....hot guy cute guy going separate ways because they both want to protect people in different ways (but then they come back together because I can't leave stories without a happy ending) But also dancing through life is so horribly hot guy coded in my brain, and I think scar would say "swankified" and still make it sound cool so...why have Galinda and Fiyero be different people when I can just have identity shenanigans This is all also a huge mix of inspirations even outside of Wicked, one being the DDVAU , and general fanart I've seen surrounding mainly hotguy cuteguy stuff, but also overall life series and hermitcraft stuff.

All and all let me know if I got anything wrong character or idea wise as I'm new here and still learning abt the fandom and all that jazz!

[kingxfmischief]

[Lately there's been trends of reviewing the Wicked: Part 1 soundtrack with things like "reviewing by how close i am to the camera" and "reviewing based on what I'd hit someone with if they said they didn't like the song"

And what I've noticed is people are SLEEPING on "No One Mourns The Wicked". Like I've seen plenty of people not like it at all and rank it near the bottom and while I've also seen plenty rank it near the middle I never see it ranked near the top and I???? Don't understand??? It's such a fucking BANGER to open the musical with. It's so emotional it's so raw, especially when you revisit it after watching the play or movie and just have such emotions for Elphaba and just the munchkins talking about how she deserves to be dead. And its so impactful!!! And Glinda having to talk about her "dead" best friend while they're doing this???

And on TOP of that, I'm sorry but I ADORE the small section of the "mystery stranger" cheating with her mother. Like I love those few lines and always have since I saw the musical over 10 years ago. Hell, I made a short AMV to just that part shortly after seeing it, and listening to the song makes me wish I could make AMVs again.

Idk man I just listened to it while driving and I don't understand how everyone I've seen so far ranks it, at best, mid. It goes so hard and I'm having emotions rn.]

[starr-angelofnarnia]

Defying Gravity

My Thoughts on Wicked Part 1

I finally (FINALLY) got to see Wicked in theaters this past weekend, and it was better than I could have hoped for. You could even say, it defied gr... expectations. OK. Dumb joke.

But seriously. Cynthia was perfect. Ariana was perfect. The entire cast really was absolutely incredible. I adore Jeff Goldblum in anything as well.

I want to share everything I loved about it, but in case anyone hasn't seen it, or is unfamiliar with the entire storyline of the Broadway and doesn't want spoilers for Wicked For Good, I'll leave those thoughts below the cut.

The first time I saw the stage production, I didn't know the story well, so maybe that's why parts of it hit me harder emotionally. But that's why the first scene was played so perfectly by Ariana. The emotions Glinda is likely feeling in this moment—portraying joy while hiding grief and sadness—she expressed perfectly. During the scene, I couldn't help but feel empathy for her. Especially as she set the wooden statue ablaze. No one mourns the "wicked" except for her.

I loved the title card throwing back to the Wizard of Oz title card. And, in that regard, all of the easter eggs throughout like the poppies (sans asbestos), the bicycle, and the single pair of red heels Glinda has in her collection. (This gif is not mine by the way)

Since I've mentioned the perfection of Ariana and Cynthia, I also have to mention the perfection of Jeff Goldblum and Michelle Yeoh. I think Jeff Goldblum is far more charming as the Wizard, especially his vocal ability. I mean, just listen to how smooth and seductive he sounds in No One Mourns the Wicked. And with Michelle Yeoh, how she went from being Elphaba's support system to her enemy. This film focused on Madame Morrible as a wonderful support system and mentor so I can't wait to see how Yeoh performs in the next film when she is full-blown villian.

One thing I really appreciate about the film that obviously can't be accomplished in a stage production is the scenery. In the story, many of the songs extend through multiple changes of scenery and [at least for me] it can be difficult to follow those changes in settings. But in the film, every setting was fleshed out. From the Courtyard at Shiz to the dormitory Elphaba and Galinda share, the library to the Oz Dust Ballroom. This difference also made Dancing Through Life a beautiful scene (though it's my least favorite in the Broadway).

I appreciated the inclusion of Miss Coddle since she wasn't a character in the Broadway.

I appreciate the diversity and representation of the cast.

The architecture was beautiful.

I want Elphaba's glasses.

I did not know that Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth would have cameos in the film, and I literally cried when they came on screen. It was such a full circle moment, especially because they aren't just there; they interact with their respective characters.

Obviously I have to mention how perfect the love triangle is. And how I already have a mental fanfiction of it.

I think the timing of its release is perfect, and I hope that it'll unify us against our own "wizard" here in the US.

I am eager to see part 2, and so sad I have to wait. I don't know how I'll last a year.

But, for once. I wish there would have been a dinosaur to take out Jeff Goldblum's character.

(Hopefully, I haven't left out anything I meant to say. I've rewritten this like 5 times because the Tumblr app is being a 4 letter word).