#and so it is a great tactic to divide them

[arabella-strange]

lots of intense (and sometimes heated) takes On Here about what Ludinus thinks Bells Hells are going to think of this Downfall window, about what BH will actually think, about whether Luda or the Primes or Aeor is right -- lots of debates

What if the disagreement is the point?

Because what's clear to me is that there is no right answer for Aeor. There are entire schools of ethics and philosophy and justice and action/intention/agency devoted to debating what a "good" choice would be here -- good for the Primes, good for Aeor. Is it the Trolley Problem; is it meliorism; is it the law of unintended consequences; is it the categorical imperative or is it the paradox of tolerance; etc. etc. etc.

But what if Ludinus's goal is to sow division among BH? What if the point is that he doesn't care if he convinces all of them -- he just needs to divide them. What if he saw this recording -- saw the oh-so-close divisions and cracks and flaws in the bonds among the Gods that took them out of this plane -- and said, "Hey. Now there's an idea for how to clear the field!" Because I can imagine half the party being really moved by the way the Primes were trying to save some people even as they were trying to maintain a perspective beyond what any mortal could see; and just as easily I can imagine half the party being livid and unmoved by this impossible situation and determined more than ever that the Gods are just people who have high-level power, not perfect beings or omniscient ones or even ones who should get to decide what kinds of extreme solutions are okay and which are not. I can imagine a debate -- a heated debate, maybe even a fracturing one -- among Bells Hells.

And so I wonder (and I apologize if this is the rise of the fash in 2024 on my mind) if the division is the point.

[lilyveselka]

How To Shut Up A Woman In Three Steps: The Transmisogynist's Guide

I - Her Tone

This is, by far, the easiest tool to wield effectively against a trans woman. If she is short in her responses, then you can accuse her of harassment and unwarranted anger; if she outright blocks you then you can simply claim that she only cares about her small-minded internet echo chamber; and if she engages with you at any length then you can quite easily nitpick her language and tone until she is thoroughly discredited.

Even better, she will most certainly become annoyed with you - in this scenario, all you have to do is argue that she is aggressive, hysterical, and quite likely a danger to society, and you will be believed by a great many people. This is, of course, because the trans woman's natural position is as a fundamental danger to society. Therefore, it takes very little convincing for an onlooker to come to that selfsame conclusion with some prompting. They may not even be aware that they are falling victim to their own inherent transmisogynistic bias, which is why this approach is quite beautiful in its simplicity! For those who don't immediately believe you, you can easily dismiss them as brainwashed idiots, syncophants, or both.

To drive your point home, call her a terf, a radfem, or a baeddel. If she has ever, in anger, spoken poorly of cis queers, or even better of transmascs, then this will become trivial to argue. Tell her that she is the problem, that she is contributing to community infighting, and that she should really be trying harder to work on this whole "trans unity" thing. Blame all oppression on her. For bonus points, when you tell her that she is dividing the community, you can also throw in the idea that should be making out with you instead of arguing. (This is, of course, because women primarily belong as sex objects to men, and if she would stop having so many opinions then perhaps she would understand this better.)

II - Her Privilege

This is an expanded version of the former tactic, because it requires a certain level of delicacy in the wording you use. However, people react quite strongly to the language of privilege, irrespective of whether that language reflects a material reality, and therefore this is a fantastic way to make a woman stop whining.

I would advise you to check if the woman is white; if she is, then you can easily accuse her of weaponizing her whiteness. (N.B. If she has not stated her race publicly, or if you can't be bothered to check, then this accusation will still work - if she is actually a woman of color, you may very easily claim that you were making a statement about white trans women in general. Further, it is not necessary for you yourself to be a person of color; as long as you position her as uniquely privileged in her whiteness, your own whiteness will remain irrelevant.)

In a similar bent, it is always quite possible for you to dismiss her theory as being "white." Always posit that she is championing a sort of wealthy white woman's privilege, always claim that transfeminism is at its core non-intersectional, and always claim that transfeminist theory in its entirety was created by the white woman - in this way, you may mark her as a privileged white bitch regardless of her race, national origin, or identity. (Under no circumstances should you mention or acknowledge the existence of trans women of color, as this immediately disarms your rhetorical weapon. In fact, if she brings up trans women of color, it is most necessary for you to claim that she is co-opting their experiences.) If you can imply that she is a racist while doing so, then you will be even more successful.

If this fails, then there are other similar cudgels you can implement to great effect: perhaps claims of intersexism, exorsexism, or sex-based discrimination. Call her a "perisex trans woman," a "binary trans woman," an "amab trans person." Say that she is speaking over the real victims; if you must combine multiple (or all!) of these terms at once in order to make her seem like a uniquely privileged party, then do so without hesitation. If she has ever had a bad opinion, or an opinion that you might frame without context as being a bad opinion, then simply publicize that. However, in the absence of such, see rulebook as follows: if she talks only of trans women in general, then you must bring up transmasculine nonbinary people; if she talks of transfeminine nonbinary people, then you must bring up intersex people; if she talks of trans people as a whole then you ought to circle right back around to claiming that she could never understand what trans men have gone through. Never concede that, say, an intersex trans woman exists, because that will inevitably lose you rhetorical ground.

Insinuate that she is herself the oppressor, that she is regressive and small-minded. In fact, if you really wish to run circles around her, then you can easily accuse her of upholding her own oppression by arguing that she is upholding a gender binary, enforcing sex-based division in the community with her language. If she describes herself as a victim of transmisogyny, then tell her that all people can be victims of transmisogyny; if she tells you that this is inaccurate, then simply argue that she is speaking over the real victim (you).

In fact, if you misgender yourself and claim to be oppressed due to your assigned birth sex, then she will have no recourse to fight back - because we all know that she is really a male, and therefore is silencing you poor natal women, who are the true arbiters of female oppression, and the real experts on misogyny. If you intend to utilize this specific tack, then I would personally suggest you use "they/them" to refer to her, because delegitimizing her womanhood is a key component to this argument.

III - Unpersoning

If both of the above techniques have failed (unlikely!) then you may now proceed to that age-old transmisogynistic technique: weaponizing her fetishes. This can be a bit more difficult to bring up naturally, but it is a last resort that can produce some fantastic results. Ask yourself the following: Has she posted about CNC? Has she talked about siscon roleplay? Has she ever engaged in a little/caretaker dynamic? Has she ever made a forcefem joke? In order, your claim against her should be as follows: she loves rape, she loves incestuous abuse, she loves to fuck children, and she personally wants to nonconsensually detransition every transmasc because of her violent perversion. It should be quite simple to get people to turn on her. If she has ever interacted with a user who has posted any of these things, simply consider her tainted by association and dismiss her in the same manner.

This is, as previously discussed, due to her natural position as a degenerate danger to society; simply reinforce that concept wherever possible, until she is driven away from her online circle entirely. Do not outright use the word "autogynephilia," but you can certainly suggest the actual tenets of the idea to wonderful effect.

This can be implemented via statements such as, "oh, so now the incest lover is going to tell me about the oppression i experience;" however, if you would care to be more subtle, then you can set up a slow-burn whisper network to turn her friends and acquaintances against her, or dedicate years to harassing her in her comments section whenever possible.

If she has pushed you far enough that this technique has become necessary, then it is clear that she must be a hostile force in the community who ought to be removed by any means. Therefore, it falls to you to try to get her to cut herself off from everyone who might support her - this will efficiently shut her up. If you can get her to kill herself, then it will silence her permanently (and cause you to win the argument, by extension)!

Just remember: what you are doing is noble and correct, because any woman who claims that a man has power over her is one who is better off dead.

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

hantengu (+plus all of his clones) reaction to their wife giving them their first ever kiss on the lips. This would probably take place like at the beginning of their marriage. Also if you don’t feel comfortable with making wife reader kiss Zohakuten on the lips, you could do like his nose or the area above his lips. Thank you! :))

𝓐 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴.

Hantengu x Fem!Reader Kissing HCs

Synopsis: The Upper Rank 4's now wife couldn't resist kissing her sweet husband just to see his reaction, or in her case, her sweet husbands.

Warnings: A bit of NSFW elements on Sekido's, Karaku's and Urogi's parts, otherwise it's just a whole lot of sweetness \(>v<)/

Divider credits:

Saradika's roses, golden railing and that weird green thing

Purples sparkles and paint roll splodge thing

Water like waves

Note: OMG THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA!!! I LOVE IT!!!! ALL OF YOU HAVE THE BEST IDEAS!! (I wrote this really quickly cuz the smut is taking WAY too long for even me so have at it in the meantime, anyways, enjoy the food ^3^) + please forgive me if this isn't too great, this is my first time doing HCs. I couldn't really picture a full on one-shot with this so I turned them to HCs, it's also a great way for me to try it out for the first time (° 3 °) + did not proofread (I never do)

The mere fact that the Upper Moon Four out of all the six (eight) upper moons actually got married, much less got into a relationship and somehow managed to keep it is a shock in itself for not only the other moons but for Muzan himself. If anything, he thought it'd all end in just a few days, but no, his fourth strongest demon is married now. Oh well, he could care less for any of his employees. As long as they did as they were told, they were free to do as they wish.

As for the newlyweds, they were perfect and happy. The wife's family was very happy for the pair, though, they had been under the impression that it was just one man and not a demon that could split into younger versions of himself. That would've been quite the scandal. Now, the day – or in this case, night – after the wedding, they are all simply relaxing in their shared home after having returned from a mission.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮

— The first thing this little demon does is rush to his wife, sobbing and bawling his eyes out about the fact that demon slayers tried to kill him, claiming that he "can do no wrong" or that he's being "wrongly accused of crimes". It's the same old thing and even then, she listens to every word he has to say as he shivers in her palm.

— Is quite surprised to say the least. He didn't expect the soft lips of his perfect wife to press against his small head but that doesn't mean it wasn't welcomed, if anything he cried more, though this time, not about the fact that he was hunted by demon slayers. Well, maybe that too, but that was only so his wife could pity him more and give him more kisses.

"T-They were all s-so awful! Their b-blades against my n-n-neck was so a-agonising!! It scared me!" He sobbed while hugging her thumb, wiping his tears and snot on the sleeve of his kimono as he continued his complaints. "Oh, my poor husband. Maybe some kisses will make you feel better." She said as she places a multitude of soft pecks on not only his head but also his small body. The small demon could not resist the feeling of his wife's lips against him and thus moved closer so more of his body could gain the sensation of her lips pressing against it.

— Is far too shy (scared) to ask for kisses. Instead, he uses his manipulation tactics to get her to pity him and so she could kiss him. A little bit of guilt here and there but it is all worth it for a few of his wife's kisses.

— Is the one who enjoys getting kissed by his wife the most after Aizetsu and surprisingly enough is very greedy for them to the point where he forgets being shy and simply begs for her to kiss him.

"P-Please kiss me again, d-dear! Just o-one more time!" He pleaded, almost on the verge of crying again at the thought of his wife's show of affection stopping. She chuckles softly at his desperacy for her kisses and is even a little bit surprised at how much he craves them. Usually he's busy cowering in a corner or something. "Of course, my love. I'll give you all the kisses you want." She cooed before her lips pressed themselves against his cheeks.

— Gets extremely flustered if it's on the lips. He'll begin to stutter and perhaps even forget how to speak as his face flushes a bright red despite his still heart not really giving a proper blood flow.

— Must always kiss him whenever he leaves for a mission or in general, or if you go to bed or anywhere else really and it must be on the lips, he will settle for nothing less. And I mean nothing less.

— Will kiss you softly in your sleep if he returns from a mission and you're already lights out before cuddling up beside you.

— Favourite places to kiss you are your lips, forehead and cheeks, how cute.

𝐒𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐨

— Sekido is probably at the patio rubbing his temples, trying to get a moment of silence and peace all to himself after having dealt with his annoying younger selves. Their tomfoolery and clown-like behaviour makes him want to absorb them so they shut up, especially Karaku who doesn't know when to keep his trap shut.

— The tension in his head is instantly relieved at the mere sound of his wife. He had heard her approaching from a few rooms away and is pleased with her presence before standing up to give her a firm hug and sighing heavily to begin his complaining about the other clones.

— Completely caught off guard and stunned to silence when he suddenly feels his wife's lips against his face, only blinking in pleasant surprise as his crimson eyes stare into hers. He never knew how much he liked her kisses until now.

"They are such a pain to manage and it makes want to rip them all to shreds so they could shut their traps for once!" He spat angrily while shaking his head in annoyance. The urge to punch something grew ever so stronger as he then got up to grab and throw something before he was interrupted by the feeling of soft lips on his jawline. "Don't break stuff, Sekido, those are expensive." Her soothing voice rang out in the large space, the soft sound waves of her voice reaching his hypersensitive pointed ears and instantly calming his extreme rage.

— Will immediately ask for more kisses and is not ashamed about it, though that won't encourage him to openly ask infront of the others, especially not Karaku.

— Surprisingly enough, he gets a bit hot and bothered at just your kisses alone and even moreso when on the lips. Poor clone is constantly stressed out that any outlet of relief already gets him so worked up. Doesn't mean it's unattractive, if you know what I mean 👀

"Again." He huffs softly, rough hands grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to his frame before his lips connect to hers. Immediately, his tongue fights its way through her mouth, intertwining with hers and venturing as deep as it could. His hands hold onto her waist firmly before one of his them slips just below her buttock and groped it firmly, the other slipping upwards and cupping her breast.

— He was beginning to enjoy himself before his advances were stopped by you with the excuse that the others would hear and would also want to join, much to his disappointment and irritation.

— Nevertheless, he's well-aware that you're right. While he doesn't mind sharing you with the others in the slightest, he'd like to have you alone for a little while due to how worked up he is.

— Will give you kisses should you go anywhere that's not near them and may even follow you just ensure your safety and expect the same when he's going on missions.

— Favourite places to kiss are neck, lips and jawline.

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

— At this point, she's had the idea to go around and kiss the other clones to see how they'd react and she had a fair idea of what Karaku's reaction would be. Karaku, who was in the kitchen doing God knows what, was surprised when his wife suddenly approached him and kissed him on the lips.

— I mean, who said he's complaining? If anything, he can put aside time he had made to play fight with Urogi for a few kisses and perhaps more from his wife (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

"Am I that irresistible to you, sweet thing?" He purred teasingly, face leaning in far beyond her personal space (not that she minds). "Perhaps." She teased back before backing away her head. "Oh no, no, stay a little. I'd like to have some more little kisses from my little wife!" Karaku wasn't going to let her get away that easily, no way. The demon grabbed her hips and pulled her closer before kissing her neck and jawline, slowly trailing his lips upwards towards her lips.

— Instantly got handsy with you (no surprise there), hands busy down there groping your asscheeks as if they were some stress toys while he's busy making out with you. Almost seemed like he wanted to lift you up...

— His mouth was definitely everywhere, especially near your cleavage. The guy has a weird obsession with your boobs and not just in the horny way.

— Was definitely disappointed when you pulled away and said you still have the other clones to attend to but didn't fuss about it. He's just happy he got to get a few grabs on his wife here and there and managed to get a make out session with her, even if short.

"Alright, alright, fine. But were definitely continuing this when you're done." Karaku says before giving her rear a slap and disappearing into the living room as she stood there chuckling at his behaviour. She expected nothing less from the pleasure demon.

— Will often try to engage a make out session with you whether or not the others are present and not giving a rat's ass about what they may think, do, or say as long as he got to taste your lips.

— Favourite places to kiss are definitely cleavage/boobs and neck. He's that guy.

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮

— Shocked but gladly welcomed it as his face gained a light red colour before he kissed back harder. Instantly went soft and (politely) asked for more kisses, also wanting to feel his head be held in her delicate hands.

— Immediately begins to complain about Sekido having yelled at him too much and that he was following orders. Out of each clone so far, Aizetsu appeared the most stressed and frustrated and the only way he could out that was through crying since he didn't really possess any other emotional receptors other than sorrow.

"He always yells so much, it hurts my ears and head... Even when I do what I'm told he still yells." The now crying demon sniffles softly into the crook of her neck. She pat his back softly as she listened to him vent while also scolding Sekido in her head at his brash behaviour. "Please kiss me, darling... Your love always makes me feel better." Even if he couldn't feel the emotion love itself, he loved it when his wife would express her love for him no matter what way that may be (pause).

— The longer this goes on, the sappier he gets as he constantly asks for words of affirmation and kisses while snuggling you more. While he prefers kisses on his forehead and cheek, he isn't too shy to kiss back on the lips and they're not just the soft once you see in those love story movies.

— The man (demon) can kiss just as well as the others, I mean for goodness' sake, they're the same person but at different ages of their shared life (even though that's barely noticeable). Aizetsu can start a whole make out session if he so wished with the way his tongue was dancing with yours right now, but all he wants right now is comfort from the frustration his second oldest counterpart had caused (Urami is the oldest, dumb dumb excluding Hantengu).

— Like Hantengu, he's a sucker for kisses. Please kiss this man anywhere (pause) because he loves it. He'll kiss you too in return, can't only take without giving something in return for his lovely wife, now can he?

— He comes to you when he's sadder than usual for kisses and snuggles so he can calm down or in case the others are too loud.

— Favourite places to kiss are corner of your lip, nose and temple

𝐔𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐢

— Oh boy, this one is already so hyperactive and it only gets worse when he gets attention from his wife, so imagine how giggly and jumpy he was when he suddenly felt her lips connect to his. He could almost ascend to the heavens even though that's not where he's ever going.

— Will demand for more because it makes him happy and according to him, he gets "a pleasant feeling" in his chest that he can't get enough of.

— Will instantly grab hold of her to deepen the kiss, so much so that he forgets she needs to breathe (oopsie). He does apologise for forgetting so there's a plus.

"You taste exquisite, songbird. I could kiss those lips forever and not get tired from it." Said the lively harpy clone before once again going in for a deep and passionate kiss while being mindful of his talons and wrapping his wings around her.

— Guaranteed privacy screen with his wings when your kissing him. It reminds him of how you belong to nobody else but him, that you love only him (and the clones) and have eyes for nobody else. It's also a way of asserting his dominance.

— Absolutely LOVES it when you put your hands on his chest, it fuels his already inflated ego since he's the clone who shows off the most ("How do you like my talons?" ahh). Not only does he like to gloat about his talons and their strength, but he also LOVES to show off his body to you and boast about how good he looks (for you).

— Can't have Urogi headcanons without mentioning his wings now, can I? Since – according to actual research – caressing a bird's wings can get them aroused/sexually frustrated (if you don't do anything else), Urogi loves it when you place small kisses on his wings. It makes him feel oh so good. Sometimes he forgets he can't just grab you randomly and make love to you right then and there. Oh well, a kiss will do for now.

"Kiss my wings, it feels good." Urogi commands rather bluntly as he flared his wings out for her, caressing her face gently to coax her into kissing them. She chuckled softly before doing what was requested from her. She was quite surprised to hear a soft, barely audible moan from Urogi before realising why he wanted her to kiss his wings. That gives her ideas for... future playtime.

— Gets embarrassed when you hear him moan and uses the excuse that you must've heard wrong or teases you about wanting him (I sure do 😝). He will never admit that his wings do more than just get him to moan.

— Favourite places to kiss are ears, collarbone, forehead and lips.

𝐙𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧

Now, hear me out. While I among many other people see Zohakuten as a child, I've got a more complicated view on it. I see Zohakuten as an adult child if that makes sense. I am comfortable with writing him being married to an adult woman because essentially, he is still an adult, like he has the mental age of an 87 year old man. I can write stuff like kissing and even minor spicy stuff for him but that extends only so far (i.e: him purposely shoving his face into Y/N's breasts like Karaku just to get attention or just very slight groping). I will not go any further than that point. No exceptions. He still physically appears as a child.

— Now, this is a little different. After everyone had calmed down and the wife was wandering elsewhere, they all had gotten the sudden strong urge to fuse. They all realised that Zohakuten wants to have a turn and who could blame him? They just got married and not to mention he rarely ever reveals himself.

— Imagine her surprise when she hears a deep voice – somewhere in the range of Sekido's voice – calling out to her "Woman." and turning around to see a the youngest clone standing there with his arms behind his back.

— Of course, like a good husband, he asked how she fared while he was out on a mission and the usual before respectfully asking for a kiss, however, there was a very faint hint of envy present. She knew he was a tad bit envious of his older counterparts being able to gain her affection at any time of the day or night while he couldn't so of course she couldn't resist him.

"I've missed you..." He mumbles softly before wrapping his arms around his precious wife, reveling the feeling of getting to hold her in his arms even if only for a moment. "I've missed you more, my darling." She coos in return before cupping his small face and placing a soft kiss on his lips. Zohakuten in turn intensified the kiss, his fangs grazing her lower lip as he did so and arms tightening around her waist.

— Believe it or not, this little fella is a certified gentleman. Ignoring what he said to the Love Hashira (💀), this boy is the most gentlemanly after Urami. He's the type to hold your hand like those princes with their princesses to assist you when walking down the stairs.

— I mean, everytime he reveals himself, he greets you with a small bow and a kiss to the back of your palm, idk what more you could want from this little cutie.

— Although, he can be quite vulgar, he tones it down a massive amount when he's around you and is less scornful thanks to the calming effect your presence has on him.

— Do not he surprised when he's simply staring at you with a harsh look as if you've just murdered his main body, that's just him suppressing the urge to kiss you.

"Uhm, d-dear?" The wife calls softly to Zohakuten who's been doing nothing but stare at her with the harshest glare she's ever seen him stare at her with. Zohakuten snaps out of his daze as his expression softens before he hums inquistively. "You've been staring at me like I've just sided with the demon slayers. Is everything, okay?" His eyes then widen slightly before he sighs and shakes his head. "Oh... no. I just simply wish to kiss you, that is all." Her cheeks gained a red tint after that surprisingly blunt and honest confession as she then smiles. "Oh, well... Who am I to say no?"

— Is very honest about what he wants if he's caught. Unlike the other clones – excluding Urami – and the main body, who try to hide what they want, Zohakuten is not shy to admit that he wants your lips against his and he will say that with the straightest face.

— Loves it when you kiss his forehead, it makes him feel all soft inside and he doesn't know why or how.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, temple and lips.

𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢

— His presence alone surprised her even more than Zohakuten, especially when he walked out of the room that Hantengu was in. Urami reveals himself every once in a blue moon due to the fact that he simply wishes not to deal with his younger selves' bickering and monkey business. However, seeing as all the others gained a bit of affection from their wife and that they're newlyweds, he too wished to spend some time with his wife.

— Much like Zohakuten, he's very gentlemanly when it comes to asking for affection from his wife. He respectfully asked if he could hold her and lift her up to his level so he could kiss her properly.

— Hear me out. The best kisser after Karaku. I don't know, he just looks like he has so much experience with women (which he kinda does 😒), like look how massive he is 😳.

She was surprised when a rather large hand gently grabbed her waist to turn her around. "Oh! Hello you!" She greeted happily as she looked up at her massive husband before hugging his legs. He was surprised but allowed it and even picked her up into his arms before kissing her temple. "Yes. I figured why not also be present when the others are gaining your addicting love?" Quite a flirt.

— Urami is surprisingly chill when it comes to kissing yet also really passionate. Like think of just wanting a quick kiss from big ass hubby over there and he picks you up only to give the most leg-shaking casual kiss ever 😫.

— He's quite a flirt. You could almost say he's near Karaku's level just minus to pervert stares, touches and so on. Like, he's the type of "Formal old man dilf" type of flirt and knows how to use his words, he just doesn't do it often due to how rarely he's present and even if he is, he's just mostly quiet (most sane clone).

— Should he ever engage in flirting with you, be prepared to have a face painted red and him drinking blood as if it were tea as he sits there with his most neutral expression.

— I swear, his kisses make you think you're a virgin again with how well he does it. Like, he even uses his fangs to graze your lips and even your tongue softly while also (respectfully) touching you to the point where your legs aren't even jelly, they're straight up water (😏).

Urami felt the familiar grip of his wife's hands on his kimono and knew that he was once again doing a flawless job at making her melt like ice in his arms and he couldn't be more satisfied at that fact as his fangs gently graze her tongue that was being twirled with his as if it were a sort of waltz. "You're doing it again." The tall clone teased before resuming their kiss.

— Holds your face or hands when he's kissing you cuz he's just that guy.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, neck and forehead.

[sukirichi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 | 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐉𝐎

+ contains swearing, teasing. rugby player! togame & cheerleader! reader. fem! reader. fluff n romance. implied size difference. REALLY HUGE TOGAME URGGHH (i talk about his muscles a lot) + inspired by this lovely fanart of rugby player togame! | divider from @/saradika-graphics <3

The sun shone high in the sky today, its heat pushing down on your skin-tight clothes. Around you, the crowd cheered, their screams and hollers nearly deafening as everyone stood at the edge of their seats for the game. Adjusting your cheerleading uniform, you smoothed out the pleats of your skirt and lifted your head high. Today was a big game, and the air buzzed with anticipation for this season’s most awaited event – the rugby team of Bofurin versus Shishitoren, a team known for their formidable players and aggressive tactics.

With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you make your way to the field, the familiar rush of pre-performance nerves and excitement coursing through you.

The crowd was already gathering, and you could hear the distant roar of fans cheering and chatting animatedly. You looked around, soaking in the energy, and your eyes landed on the Shishitoren players – your university’s greatest opponent – as they warmed up on the opposite of the field.

That’s when you saw him. Togame Jo.

Togame was impossible to miss – standing tall with his dark hair and imposing build. Even from a distance, his presence felt commanding. His muscles bulged with each stretch, the stretchy material of his shorts doing little to conceal the thick, powerful cords on his thighs. You’d heard about him before from your friends and read articles about his impressive plays (mostly because your university’s paper seemed to have a love-hate relationship with the man.) And, well, you couldn’t blame them. Jo was the kind of player who could change the course of a game with a single move.

His green eyes, striking even from afar, seemed to pierce through the chaos of the field, making him look even more intimidating and captivating.

Aside from the articles, you’d also heard… good things about him. Things that were whispered in the cheerleaders’ lockers room like how he was a charmer, and that half of the audience in the bleachers who didn’t come to watch Umemiya arrived for Togame instead.

“Ladies, we ready?” called out your cheer captain, snapping you out of your trance. You nodded, joining your squad as you prepared for your routine.

You couldn’t help but glance back at Jo. He was in the middle of a drill, moving with a fluid grace that belied his massive frame. You felt a flutter in your chest then – admiring the almost lackadaisical way he carried himself, and still moved with grace. Each time he stretched, the crowd would cheer and scream his name. He’d simply smirk to himself – which shouldn’t look as handsome – and lift a hand to the crowd, before resuming his routine.

Great. Confident without being cocky; just your type.

It was a shame he was on the opposing team. You really would’ve wanted to cheer for him instead.

As the game began, you launched into your cheers, your voices blending with the crowd’s roars. Every now and then, your gaze would drift to the dark-haired man. He was incredible to watch, a force of nature on the field. His tackles were precise, his runs powerful, and it was clear why he was a key player for Shishitoren. So this was the infamous opponent of Umemiya, your university’s most beloved forward.

During a break in the game, you finally performed your main routine. The adrenaline surged through you as you executed your moves flawlessly, the crowd’s cheers roaring loud. As you wrapped up, you caught Jo watching you, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was sat on the bleachers, his long hair messed up and tangled, the dark locks plastered on his skin with sweat. Still, he couldn’t have looked more beautiful – even with a bloody nose.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly looked away, hoping you hadn’t been too obvious in checking him out. Jesus, you thought, even his uniform looked small on him. He was just that massive.

When the halftime whistle blew, you made your way off the field, passing by Shishitoren’s bench. Your heart began to pound as you approached, and then, as if the universe had conspired to align your paths, Jo stood up and stepped forward.

“Hey,” he called out, his masculine voice deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. You turned to face him, plastering on your best cheerleader smile – which failed. Togame towered over you, his hulking frame nearly blocking out the sun behind him. And he smelled like sweat, grass, and clean soap – a scent that was both so boy and addicting.

“Yes?” you replied, surprised that your voice was steadier than you felt.

“You were amazing out there,” Jo said, his striking green eyes locking onto yours. Then, he turns his head to the side, lightly scratching at the back of his neck as he mumbled, “Can I get your number?”

You hesitated for a moment, fighting back a laugh as a mischievous grin crept up to your face. “Sure,” you said, “I’ll give it to you if you win.”

Togame’s eyes lit up with determination, one of his brows cocking up. “You mean when I win,” he corrects, smirking, and you can’t stop yourself from biting your lip at the way his chest puffed out. “You make it too easy for me, Princess, but a deal’s a deal.”

A thrill of excitement surges through you. You nod in agreement, watching as Jo turns and jogs back to his team. They greet him with teasing smiles and a pat at his back, knowing full well their teammate would be unstoppable now that you’ve motivated him. It made you almost feel bad for Umemiya – almost. Bofurin’s Golden Boy had no idea what was coming his way.

The second half of the game was intense. Jo seemed to play with renewed vigor, his every move calculated and powerful. You cheered louder than ever, caught up in the energy of the game and the promise you’d made.

As the final minutes ticked down, Shishitoren was ahead by a single point. The tension was hard to ignore, and every eye was on the field. With one last surge, Jo effortlessly broke through Bofurin’s defense and scored the winning try. The crowd erupted in cheers, their screams echoing and the bleachers vibrating with each stomp. You couldn’t help but join in the celebration – ignoring the way your friends eyed you suspiciously. Bofurin had lost, after all – something the white-haired rugby star, Umemiya, took with grace.

As the teams shook hands and the crowd began to disperse, you made your way to the edge of the field. Jo was quick to spot you and jogged over, a triumphant smile on his face.

“So,” he said, slightly out of breath but still exuding confidence, “Can I get your number now?”

You laughed, pulling out your phone and handing it to him. “A deal’s a deal, and I don’t intend to back out on my word. Not when you played so good out there,” Grinning, Jo entered his number and hands your phone back to you, his fingers brushing against yours. The briefest contact is enough to make sparks shoot down your hands, and your smile widens, gazing up at his bloodied (and slightly bruised) handsome face.

“Thanks,” he says, his smile softening. His eyes are bright with his victory, but they remain soft as he watches you pocket your phone back to your jacket. “So… I hope you don’t forget me when you return to your university. Wouldn’t want you to be too shocked when I suddenly text you.”

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to think it over. “Well,” you begin, drawing out the moment. “Since you played so well… I suppose you can take me out someday.”

Jo’s grin widened, the sight of it spreading warmth through you. “Wait, you’re serious?” at your nod, he laughs to himself, his hands planted on his hips before he runs them through his hair. “Shit. Okay, uh, how about tomorrow evening?”

Your eyes widen. “Don’t you have after-parties or something?”

“Yeah, but I can’t wait,” he admits, red tingeing his cheeks. “And I really want to take you out before you drive back to your uni. If that’s – that’s something you’re cool with, of course. I’m all bloodied and banged up so I might not be the most dashing for a first date–”

Heart fluttering in excitement, you stood up on your tiptoes and leaned forward, pressing your lips to his warm cheek. Jo stiffens underneath you. Or to be more accurate, the man stops breathing completely, though his back bends just the slightest to help you kiss him better. “I’d love to go on a date with you,” you reassure him, and step back with the most innocent smile. “And for the record, blood and all–” you gesture to his face, trying not to laugh at his wide-eyed expressions, “–You’re still the most good looking guy on the field.”

Your compliment snaps him out of his stupor, and Jo laughs, a hand clutching his belly. “You flatter me too much, Princess. Pretty sure Umemiya’s the most attractive player here. Did you hear how much everyone went crazy for him?”

Snorting, you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, but I rather liked the opponent flanker better.”

Togame bites the inside of his cheek, his mouth opening to say something when your cheer captain suddenly calls for you. You watch as his face falls before it masks into adoration, his eyes softening when you reluctantly step back. “Tomorrow it is, then,” you confirm, a hint of promise lingering in the air.

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but glance back at him, your heart pounding like you’d won the game. In a way, you did win. Meeting Jo had been a surprise, but it felt like the start of something new, something special. The game, the crowd, the cheers – it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the promise of what tomorrow could hold.

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Rapunzel featuring Choso! While gathering herbs in the forest, you stumble into the garden of a strange man living in an abandoned watch tower. He talks often about his three little brothers, but you’re beginning to suspect they’re no longer there. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty Here!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Reader as Rapunzel. Reader has long hair (she kinda has to for this story) but no other distinguishing physical characteristics. Choso as a classic Yandere. Possessive behavior. Toxic love. Manipulation. Reader is locked up. Mentions of characters dying before the story began. Bondage (not used in a sexual context… yet).

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You slam the shutters closed and back away from the window. Already you’ve begun trembling from the cold, and despite the shackle on your ankle, you’re irrationally afraid of falling out the window. 

The chain on the shackle clinks as you move, and you follow it back to see what it’s connected to. Under the straw mattress, you find a great metal hook where the end of the chain is fastened. You pull at it, but there’s no way to get it free. It seems to be built into the hook somehow. 

Changing tactics, you sit down and examine the shackle itself. There’s a small keyhole on the side, and no other way to open it. You pull and jerk, but it doesn’t budge. 

Why would Choso do this? You thought things were going so well. You even fell in love with him. Did he have something like this in mind the whole time? And what does he even plan to do with you?

You run through possibilities in your mind, but nothing makes sense. If he wanted to keep you here for sex, why bother when you slept with him willingly? You make him all the medicines he wants. You spend time with him and even invited him to come visit you. What else could he possibly want from you? 

Just then you notice that your hair has been tied back up into a ponytail. It’s a bit messier than when you do it, but it’s clear that Choso has made an effort. Why would he do something so considerate while doing something as terrible as chaining you up? 

Footsteps echo through the room, and you look toward the door. Someone is coming up the stairs, and unless you’re completely wrong about his brothers being dead, it’s definitely Choso. 

You feel a surge of panic. Whatever he wants from you, it can’t be good if he’s taken you captive. You’re not sure if your heart can handle being hurt by someone you’ve come to love, someone you were so intimate with just before you were knocked out. 

The door opens, and Choso is on the other side, holding a plate of food. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there in the middle of the room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, relief in his voice. He steps inside and sits the plate on the dresser. “I brought dinner just in case, but I was worried you’d still be asleep. That sleep medicine you made is more potent than I thought. Or maybe I used too much. It’s been two days.”

Two days?! You’d guessed around twelve hours! But this is no time to be shocked into silence. 

“Why have you taken me prisoner?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even and calm. Losing your cool will be no help at all. 

He blinks. “Prisoner? No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m keeping you safe. After the threat is gone, I’ll take you home.”

“The threat? You mean the wolves?” How could he possibly rid the forest of wolves single handedly? Or is this just a way for him to keep you here indefinitely? 

“Yes, the wolves,” he replies, seemingly oblivious to how ridiculous that sounds. “Well, that particular pack of wolves. I’ll hunt them down and kill them all, so they won’t ever hurt you again.”

You step closer to him. “Choso, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine! The wolves are less active during the day, so just escort me home now while the sun is still up, and-“

“No!” he shouts, making you flinch and step back. His face then softens immediately, as if your reaction pained him. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I can’t let you leave until I know you’ll be safe. I promise I’ll take care of you, so don’t worry!”

“Choso-“

“I’ll cook meals for you every day,” he continues, cutting you off. “You like my cooking, right? I went to the village yesterday and bought you a couple of dresses to wear, and some books to read so you won’t be bored!”

“Please, Choso, listen to me,” you say, approaching him again. “I know you mean well, and you’re trying to look out for me, but this isn’t the way to do it. I need to go home. You can’t keep me here against my will.”

This time he takes a step back. “I’ll take you home as soon as I kill the wolves. It won’t take too long, but I can’t let you go before then. Those wolves are bloodthirsty, and they’re not afraid to attack humans.”

You stare at him for a moment, wondering if you should say the words bubbling up in your mouth. Since he’s taken things this far, you decide to stop dancing around the topic and ask, “Is that what happened to your brothers?”

His face goes blank, his eyes looking eerily empty as he says, “What are you talking about? My brothers are downstairs playing.”

For that brief moment, Choso frightens you to your core. For that one solitary moment, you believe he’s capable of anything. 

You feel your eyes becoming wet. “Choso, I’m more afraid of you than the wolves right now.”

He looks hurt, reeling back as if he’s been slapped. “Me? But I’d never hurt you! I’m doing all this to protect you!”

“But I don’t want this kind of protection,” you say as calmly as possible. “Don’t you care what I want?”

He wears a conflicted expression, which is a good sign. Maybe you can reach him. He backs up toward the door. “Of course I care, but I care more about keeping you safe,” he says as he opens the door and steps out. “Please eat. I’ll come check on you a little later.” Then the door closes. 

You stand there for a while, listening to his footsteps carrying him down the stairs. Once he sounds far enough away, you go over to the dresser and pick up the plate. Your gut reaction is to smash it on the floor, but starving yourself will get you nowhere. It might even end with Choso forcing food down your throat. 

No, the best idea is to appeal to Choso’s care for you. He’s clearly been driven mad by grief over his brothers, and it’s impossible to tell what he’d do when pushed into a corner. 

But the worst part is that, despite what he’s doing, you still feel love for Choso. He seems to sincerely believe he’s protecting you. 

For now, you decide to bide your time and try talking some sense into him. 

Later that evening, Choso returns to the top of the tower. When he opens the door and steps into the room, you gasp at the sight of him. 

His clothes are torn, there are bloody scratches all over him, and he’s carrying a heavy-looking wool sack. 

You quickly get to your feet and hurry over, but the chain prevents you from reaching him. He’s just inside the door, barely out of your reach. You extend one hand toward him. “Choso, what happened?!” No matter what he’s done, you still can’t bear to see him hurt. 

Choso looks at her with an anguished expression when he realizes she’s trying to come to him but can’t, because of the shackle he placed on her ankle. He takes the ten steps needed to be close enough for her to touch him, sighing in relief when her soft hands touch his shoulders. 

“I’m alright,” he tells her, shifting the bag to one arm. “More importantly, I brought you a gift.”

She looks skeptical. Of course she does. He’s well aware that she’s unhappy with this situation. He doesn’t like making her unhappy, but he knows she’ll understand after she’s here for a while with him. Eventually she’ll come to like being kept safe and pampered here. 

He opens the bag and dumps out the contents on the floor in front of her. Two gifts that will surely prove his devotion to her. Two bloody, mangled wolf carcasses. 

She doesn’t scream, but instead makes a strange little cry of alarm, barely above a whisper, as she steps back, one hand closed over her mouth. 

“Don’t you recognize them?” he asks, squatting down to hold one of them up. “These are two of the wolves that attacked you. There’s only four more.”

She looks horrified as her lovely eyes take in the dead wolves, then shift to his face. “You killed them yourself?”

Choso smiles, feeling proud. “Yes, with a hatchet! It was fairly easy to take a couple down once I drove the pack to separate, then I-“

He notices she’s crying, and it makes the words dry up in his mouth. She looks aghast. 

“Please don’t do something like this again!” she cries. “Think about what would happen if you’re killed by the wolves! I’d be trapped here alone, with no food or water!”

Choso’s heart nearly stops when he hears her words. How could he have been so careless? He put her at risk! “I’m sorry!” he says, dropping to his knees beside the wolves. “I didn’t consider that! I’ll bring extra food and water tomorrow, and I’ll be very careful when I kill the rest of the pack!”

She kneels down in front of him. “Don’t kill the rest of them! Please just stop all this. Wolf attacks are rare. I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’ll forgive you if you let me go home when the sun comes up.”

Her words are logical. They make perfect sense to Choso, but he knows logic isn’t always right. He can’t risk her being attacked again. Standing up, he looks down at her. “After I kill the remaining four, I’ll take you home. I promise. And don’t worry, I’ve killed a bigger pack than this one before. I know what I’m doing.”

She lowers her head in defeat, not even looking up when he places the dead wolves in the bag and leaves the room. 

Back downstairs, he strips off the bloody clothes and cleans up in the small washroom beside the kitchen. There’s a similar washroom upstairs for her to use. He cleaned her body the day before, while she was still sleeping, but he was careful to protect her modesty as best he could and not touch her inappropriately. 

After washing his hair and drying off, Choso pulls on loose fitting black pants and sits near the fireplace to warm up. He can’t help remembering how he made love to her in this very spot only two days earlier. When he’d been fully sheathed inside her, wrapped in her arms, he felt at peace for the first time in years. 

It was almost enough to make him forget. 

After a few minutes, he decides to go up and check on her. He misses the time they spent talking happily together, sharing stories about their lives. He hopes they can go back to that someday. These are his thoughts as he climbs the steps of the tower. 

You’re surprised when you hear footsteps on the stairs again. You didn’t expect Choso to come back again so late, but when he opens the door, he’s standing there in only black pants, no shirt, his hair loose around his shoulders and slightly damp. 

It reminds you that you find him very attractive, and you wish you could just turn that part of your brain off. 

“Ah, sorry if I’m bothering you,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I think it’s time to change your bandages. Is it alright if I help you?”

You already found a drawer full of supplies in the dresser, but you haven’t changed them yet. To be honest, that’s been the last thing on your mind today. 

You’re not quite sure whether you should accept his help, or anything else. You haven’t even looked at the dresses he bought for you, spending the day in your slip. There’s a coal heater in the room, with a vent built into the wall to prevent smoke buildup, so you haven’t been cold unless you open the window. 

He stands there looking like a lost puppy, and you can’t help yourself. “Alright, you can help me,” you say, sitting on the mattress. 

Looking pleased, he hurries over to the drawer and gathers supplies, then sits down beside you. His hands are nearly shaking as he carefully removes the bandages from your hand and arm. As always, his touches are light and gentle, his fingertips soft on your skin. He continues this process with your other wounds, and it feels so nice and relaxing that your guard drops completely. 

When he’s finished, he starts to stand up, but you place one hand on his arm. “What about you?” you ask him, looking at the numerous shallow cuts and scratches on his firm torso. “Let me help you.”

His eyes widen slightly, a faint dusting of pink on his pale face as he settles back onto the floor and nods. With the same care he demonstrated, you clean and wrap his wounds with bandages, your hands lingering on his abdomen. You wonder if he’s aroused right now, considering the way his breaths are coming quicker and his eyes seem to be darker. 

Do you want him to be aroused? 

You’re not certain what you want. And while you’re still in this vague mindset, Choso softly asks, “May I touch you?”

Slightly dazed by his closeness, you say yes, assuming he plans to embrace you when he moves to be behind you. 

Instead, his warm hand slides under the fabric of your slip, between your legs. You gasp when his fingers gently prod your folds open and find your clit, stroking it until you become wet. 

“You liked it when I touched you here, right?” he says into your ear, and your whole body shivers. 

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should tell him to stop. Being intimate with him again will only make him feel like his behavior is okay. But you’ve been so stressed today, so wound up and worried. And Choso looks so beautiful with his hair down, his fingers feel so good, causing currents of electric pleasure to ripple through you. 

You should stop this, but instead you lean back against him, opening your thighs. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, one of your hands moving to his hair and pulling his face close enough to kiss him. You moan into his mouth as he continues rubbing your clit, your body beginning to quiver. 

Breaking the kiss, you look him in the eyes. “Choso… take me,” you plead, peeling off the slip and leaving yourself nude. 

You don’t have to ask twice. With an urgency bordering on desperation, he pushes you forward, onto your hands and knees on the floor. Within seconds, he’s shoving into you, a short whimpering cry escaping his lips as your warm, slick walls close around him. 

He’s less careful this time, less gentle as he thrusts into you from behind, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer. 

One of his hands slides around to continue stroking your clit, making you sob out a moan. His other hand reaches around your face, where his fingers dip into your open mouth. His thrusts get harder, faster, and the chain connected to your ankle clinks as it rattles. 

Oh god, you’re falling into madness with him. 

When you cum with a great shudder, you inadvertently bite down on his fingers, tasting his blood. He doesn’t even try to withdraw them. 

When he cums, fully inside you, he leans over your shaking form and says into your ear, “I love you so much. I’ll keep you safe… forever!”

The words, sounding sweet at first, snap you back to your senses when you realize what he’s actually saying. 

He intends to keep you captive here for the rest of your life. He’ll never let you go. 

The thought is sobering, and you instantly lose the sense of pleasure you’d just felt. In a moment of weakness, you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

When Choso pulls out, he wraps his arms around you, clearly wanting to be close for a while longer. You pull away from his grasp and say, “I need to go clean up.”

He looks at you as you stand up. “Do you need any help?” he asks, seeming so kind. 

“No, I’m fine,” you say, not meeting his eyes. 

You spend longer in the washroom than you need, hoping he’ll be gone back downstairs when you come back out. Unfortunately, he’s still sitting on the floor when you return. He must have noticed your change in attitude, because he looks worried. 

“Are you upset?” 

You finally look him in the eyes. There are lots of things you want to say, but all of them would probably make this situation worse. No, you need to be smart about this. Making him freak out and be on his guard will be no help to you. 

“I’m just tired,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

He gets to his feet and hovers awkwardly for a little while before heading for the door. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring your breakfast.”

“Thanks, Choso,” you tell him, pulling on your slip and sitting down on the mattress. 

He gives you an uneasy smile, then leaves the room. You listen to his footsteps, waiting until you can no longer hear them. 

A plan is already forming in your mind. You’ve realized tonight that you have to escape, and soon. The first step is to get rid of the shackle. Choso locks the door each time he leaves, but there’s a chance he might forget at some point. You need to be ready for that possibility. 

Sitting on the mattress, you bring your shackled ankle close and carefully remove the strips of cloth Choso has tied underneath the metal. Then you grit your teeth and begin yanking on the chain, pulling it harshly against your skin. After several painful minutes, you tie the cloth back around your ankle and slide it under the shackle. 

The next morning, Choso brings your breakfast and sits it on the dresser. He walks over to where you’re sitting and says, “How are you feeling today?”

You look up at him, rubbing your leg absently. “I’m okay. It’s just…”

“Hmm? Is something wrong?”

You extend your leg, the chain clinking. “My ankle hurts.”

He squats down and gently begins untying the cloth. When it falls away, a look of horror spreads across his face. Your ankle is wrapped in deep purple bruises. 

“I’m so sorry!” he says, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a small key. “I thought the cloth would be enough to cushion it!”

He quickly unlocks the shackle, then pulls it away from you. With one hand you rub over it, wincing. “I think it happened last night, when we were together,” you tell him. 

His face reddens. “I never realized it. I’ll leave the shackle off for a while. Maybe you don’t even need it.”

You don’t say anything to that, afraid you might say something that makes him suspicious. 

The day wears on, Choso bringing you meals and even applying a salve to your ankle. He seems happy to see you wearing one of the dresses he bought for you. 

He doesn’t know you’re preparing. 

By nightfall, you stop hearing any sounds whatsoever, and you have no doubt he’s gone to hunt the wolves again. This is the time to act!

You start by checking the door, just in case. As expected, it’s locked up tight. But that’s okay. You have a back up plan. 

It takes you several minutes to unfasten all the loops and ties in your hair, which you’d redone after Choso’s attempt at fixing it back. Once all of it is loose, you begin twisting it around into something resembling a rope. Then you drag the heavy dresser over to the window and tie the end of your hair around one of its legs. 

You open the window and look down, trying to judge the distance. You’ve done this many times already, and you’re still not certain you can reach the bottom. Even if you do, you’ll have to make a horrible decision. 

You’ll have to cut your hair. 

It’s the only way to escape, and you have a small blade that Choso left with the medical supplies, for cutting off strips of bandages. 

You have no choice. Choso will keep you here forever. There will always be more wolves in the forest. The longer you stay here, the harder it will be to escape, the more you’ll grow comfortable with being held captive by him. 

Steeling your nerves and your heart, you open the window and climb onto the ledge. Holding tightly to your hair as if it’s a rope, you begin easing yourself down, keeping your feet on the side of the tower. 

The climb down is terrifying. If your feet should slip, or your hands lose their grip on your hair, you could fall the rest of the way. Depending on how the length of your hair compares to the tower, you could smash into the ground or have your neck snapped if your hair suddenly stops your fall from this height. 

Luckily, it’s too dark to see much when you look down, so you can focus all your attention on your descent. 

It takes longer than you expected. At least twice you hear the sound of wolves howling. Is Choso hunting them now? You hope he’s not hurt, but you also hope he doesn’t come back before you’re gone. 

Finally, you reach the end of your hair, leaving yourself only enough slack to move your head around. You look down, and the ground looks close enough that dropping from here wouldn’t hurt at all. It’s now or never. 

You pull the blade from a pocket in your dress and take a deep breath, then you begin cutting through your hair. Tear fill your eyes as you watch the strands split off from each other. Your hair is sacred, it represents your spirit, but those are just ideas you grew up with. Logically, you know it’s just hair. It will grow back. But it’s still emotional for you. 

Once you’ve cut it free of your head, you extend your arms, holding onto the end of the “ rope”, giving yourself a few more inches, and then you drop. 

The ground rises up to meet you, and your legs quiver when the impact shoots from your feet up to your hips. It hurts, but you don’t think you’ve injured anything. You catch your breath, then run around to the other side of the tower, toward the path you’re familiar with that leads back to the village. You try not to think about your hair, about how it’s barely long enough to cover your ears now. 

When you round the tower, you stop dead in your tracks. 

Just a few feet away from you, Choso is walking toward the tower, a dead wolf thrown across his shoulder. 

[mbirnsings-71]

SOBS DON'T ADD TOUCH STARVEDNESS INTO THIS THAT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES STOPPPPPP SCOTT HE WOULD LEAN INTO SCOTT'S ICY TOUCH AND JUST MELT STOPPPPPP I'M ILL JAYYYYYY- HE'S ALL ALONE WITH HIS ANIMALS UNTIL A CERTAIN CANARY RESPAWNS I'M ILL-

Scott, with his natural resistance to fire: mmm I'm gonna kiss both my partners' hands, as a Treat :D

something something having a new hyperfixation and now having several new WIPs about it AND just starting to draw certain characters from it just yesterday uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah-

[caineinthecorner]

Hi. I binged like 80 chats in a row and I have opinions(tm) about physical strength and general power stuff of the brothers. Mostly just strength related things, but I tried to cover most of their battle stuff.

Yes I know, yes I know, "they're ranked as siblings by power blabla", but that's LAME. So here are my personal takes mostly for fun. Canon is dead and I ate it.

Also I finished the dividers and general aesthetics of this blog woo

★ Lucifer.

Generally the strongest, period, can and WILL kill almost anyone without much issue or even second thought

Physical strength, however? He’s not the best, as he doesn’t rely on it at all for battle / conflict

He didn't need it in heaven, after all

(Beel was his brawns and he was already a powerful angel so it never was a requirement)

I don't see him actively working out (anymore, at least), so most of his strength is merely his baseline

His main tactic conflict wise is intimidation.

Cough giving MC death threats cough

Very prideful of himself in battle, obviously

Rarely would ever use any sort of dirty tricks

Would probably prefer to go down the "honorable way"

Target his brothers though and he WILL play every trick in the book with little regard to his pride or his own life

This fuck looks like he knows swordsmanship and is probably the only of the brothers who does so

(except maybe Satan who is learning just to copy / be better than him)

Either that or he knows fancy sword dances for angel rituals he cannot partake in anymore (and doesn't do them anymore)

Diavolo has photos of him doing said dances but his lips are triple sealed since it is a heavily touchy subject

★ Mammon.

Canonically this man is physically weak (or at least has a weak complexion / scrawny arms)

Probably the most disappointing in terms of strength because he is literally the second born

His saving grace is his unholy speed and dirty tricks, using it to cover his weaknesses / lack of physical strength.

A LOT of dirty tricks and bs magic stuff. So so many. Never ends

He’s the living embodiment of the “random bullshit go!!!” meme

You know Looney tunes? Yeah this man has the Bugs bunny's levels of bullshit

But he has the best stamina out of his brothers (so he can run away from his debts)

Doesn't train because he's already perfect as it is (<- that's his ego talking he can barely pick up the weights at Beel's gym)

Honor is for the dead type of person. Nothing is out of the table in battle

(^ that makes him terrifying to fight against btw)

He either tries to intimidate (imitating Lucifer) or sweet-talk his way out of conflict

It usually just pisses off his adversary more which actually leads to the fights starting, but hey, he tried 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

★ Leviathan.

Physical strength is shit.

he will get his shit kicked if he tries to brawl with almost anyone

Except maybe the lowest hanging fruit (humans)

Magical or general strength is decent, but he's definitely not the greatest in battle out of the brothers

^ he's kinda insecure about this and he wishes he were stronger (he sulks about it)

Wishes that actual irl battles were like Fire Emblem or strategy games bcs he's actually good in those

Update: I didn't make it clear (mb lol) but I see him as the best strategist of the brothers by far, he just isn't good at front-line action

^ Being away from the front lines keeps the pressure away from him for the most part, and it avoids him getting riled up and acting rash

He once tried to workout with Beel but quickly got overwhelmed because Beel shoved 200kg weights onto him thinking it was an reasonable starting point

So he kinda has trauma(tm) about it

Despite his garbage physical prowess, he WILL start fights and get riled up easily

He goes onto his demon form immediately when he wants to fight

^ bcs his strength isn't great, and he needs any boost he can get

Plus, awful anger management

My man will get onto a fist fight with the demon equivalent of a redditor over anime waifus and he will lose

★ Satan.

As the literal embodiment of Wrath, he does pack quite a punch and will maul you to death with only his fists. No problems at all

But that's merely his baseline strength (which is a lot) since he doesn’t really train physically

Probably focuses on other areas (read: intelligence) instead of physical strength.

Which is ironic because he could kick Lucifer's ass in a fist fight if he actually trained more

But oh well. Books do be booking

Surprisingly strategic while in fights, although not above Going Apeshit

Funnily enough the least likely of the brothers to enter a fight

Has read The Art Of War and will quote it just to be a smartass

★ Asmodeus.

Physically? Weak.

Probably the weakest of the brothers, having more or less the strength of a human (and on the weaker side of that).

He doesn’t train whatsoever; Likes his slender figure and muscles “ruin” that.

However, he makes up for it on the "trickster" scale.

As the Avatar of Lust, he will probably go the charm route instead of wanting to directly fight his enemies, or he make someone else do the dirty work for him.

Think of Mammon but make it a bit less scummy, tricks wise.

His go-to is sweet talk.

Something something the Avatar of Lust being physically weak since sex is considered an act of vulnerability and therefore the lowering of one’s guard something something

Something something the poetic narrative of the Avatar of Lust having only power through Communication something something

★ Beelzebub.

Contrary to Asmo; he does lift for days and can pack quite the punch, being one of the stronger brothers physically despite being one of the youngest.

I don't see him caring much for magic or other types of strength, he is content in packing the punch and has the capabilities to back him up.

Fight wise he will probably punch the problems away

Maybe use one or two tricks he’s learned

Mostly relies on his intuition and gut and it surprisingly works out

Nothing fancy; Dictionary definition of all muscle no brain battle wise

Literally one of the scariest brothers to ever fight he will actually beat you to a bloody pulp

And make a smoothie out of it

★ Belphegor.

This fucker doesn't lift at all you can't tell me shit

At MOST he'll accompany Beel to the gym and would sleep at the benches

The strength he has is the strength he was born with

Which isn't a lot, but still above human average by quite a lot

More or less demon standard of strength. Maybe a slightly below it

But he's still above most demons by a mile in other regards, mostly magic prowess

He's stronger than Levi because I think it would be hilarious that the dude who sleeps all day is stronger than him

(or you can make him really physically strong just because it'd be funny to see the sleepy dude kick ass)

(either way is funny as shit go ham)

★ Physical strength chart

Behemoth type strength :

Beel (only barely)

Lucifer

Satan

High / Low above human average :

Mammon

Belphie (low diff w/ mammon)

Levi

Asmo

★General strength chart

Can kill hundreds no effort :

Lucifer

Satan (If apeshit)

Are not as strong but still terrifying :

Mammon

Beel

Belphie

Levi, Asmo (Tie)

[racefortheironthrone]

Since SAG AFTRA has also gone on strike, does that mean the negotiations between the WGA and executives went poorly?

This is a great question, because it allows me to do some educating about labor law!

Today's topic: "bad faith" bargaining.

While often honored more in the breach than the observance, U.S labor law requires employers to engage in collective bargaining with unions, once those unions have been recognized as the "exclusive representative" of the workers via card check or union election.

Because Leon Keyserling and Senator Robert Wagner were not idiots and could see it coming that employers would drag out negotiations in order to try to destroy the union through attrition, the Wagner Act of 1935 required employers to not just negotiate with unions, but to negotiate "in good faith" and made it a violation of the law to negotiate in bad faith.

Two major forms of negotiating in bad faith are "dilatory tactics" (deliberately using the procedures of collective bargaining and labor law more generally to delay the process) and "surface bargaining" (where the employer goes through the motions of meeting with the union, but refuses to engage in substantive discussions). This can include stuff like sending representatives who don't have authority to negotiate, refusing to schedule sessions or trying to unilaterally control the timeline, not asking questions or engaging in back-and-forth discussion, refusing to discuss topics that are germane to conditions of employment, and so forth.

These kinds of actions are considered Unfair Labor Practice violations and the NLRB can issue "cease and desist" orders and "affirmative bargaining" orders, as well as some rather creative "special remedies" that get around the Wagner Act's lack of monetary penalties. As that suggests, however, part of the problem is that because the Wagner Act doesn't have significant monetary penalties, a lot of companies will just budget a line item for breaking the law and treat that as the cost of doing business, while using the same dilatory tactics to appeal NLRB decisions through the courts in the hope that they can outlast the union. (This is why one of the most effective labor law reforms that could be passed in a Democratic Congress would be adding compounding daily monetary penalties and streamlining the ULP process in both the NLRB and the courts.)

From what I've read of the negotiations, I think there's a pretty clear cut case that AMPTP engaged in surface bargaining and used dilatory tactics, with the intent to run out the clock and thus provoke a strike in which they believed economic pressure would force the union into surrender, essentially a lock-out without declaring a lock-out.

I think it's backfired on them. A big part of AMPTP's strategy for winning that strike was to divide-and-rule - hence why they came to an agreement with the Director's Guild - by getting through the lean months by filming and releasing shows and movies with already-completed scripts. Now that SAG-AFTRA is on strike, that lifeline of content is immediately cut - which means AMPTP is going to run out of revenue in the near future, which as WGA leaders have pointed out means bad quarterly earnings reports, which means stock prices tank, which means investors and boards of directors get angry and executives become the ones facing the prospect of losing their jobs at the same time that all the compensation they've structured as stock options to avoid taxes loses value.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Drafting the Adventure: Dungeons Without Walls

I love the idea of dungeons, but there was a significant portion of my life as a DM where they didn’t feature in my games. While Pathfinder and 5e provided a great framework for character building and tactical skirmishes that I could build story on top of, neither was really great when it came time to detour into a  dungeon. My players tended to get confused when we headed out to plunder the local ruin or cave system, spending a lot more time figuring out where they were and what they should be doing than actually doing anything. 

The problem as it turned out was limited information.  I had a picture of the dungeon in my head/notes but I couldn’t telepathically infer that to the party, and the back and forth questions where they tried to orient themselves within my mental labyrinth ate up a lot of session time prevented us from attaining that snappy pace that every table needs to keep the players invested.

Recently though I had an epiphany about overhauling exploration in d&d, and wrote up a whole post detailing how you could build and run wilderness adventures the same way you could a heist or a murder mystery. Because I was already writing a series about dungeon design it didn’t take long for me to realize that this exploration overhaul was 100% applicable, and could solve a lot of the delay and confusion my players usually faced on their next trip underground.  Spoilers: it worked amazingly.

 The key to this overhaul was giving my players enough information to see the dungeon as a sort of abstract checklist, and then giving them the power to investigate and check things off that list in whatever order they wished, when they enter a new level of the dungeon they get a new checklist to fill out which still keeps that sense of exploration. Folk love checking things off lists, and I as a dungeonmaster love it when players engage with the content I’ve spent so much energy creating even if it’s only poking their head in the door to realize they want to run away as fast as possible. Likewise, designing the dungeon this way let me tackle much larger concepts without having to sweat the details of filling up every little room as I would have to in map-centric design.

To summarize my exploration mechanic as It applies to dungeons:

During Design: After you’ve got the dungeons’ major concept, you divide it into unique “zones” (essentially what might be levels in a regular dungeon) with an interconnected theme, mechanic, or threat.

Each zone has a number of points of interest, which can be anything from trails to follow, odd sights they might investigate, to full complexes of rooms that you’ve mapped out. You don’t need to map out the points of interest otherwise, they sort of float abstractly within the zone 

When players enter a zone, they become aware of its name and general descriptor, as well as how many total points of interest are in that zone. They also become aware of some points of interest immediately to serve as landmarks and give them a direction for their exploration, but most remain undiscovered until they venture off the path and start checking out their surroundings. Hidden among these points of interest are the doors that lead to zones deeper within the dungeon, encouraging the party to explore in order to progress.

During Play: When the players enter the dungeon, one player is appointed as the surveyor, who’s job it is to keep track of the zones, fill out that checklist, and check things off when the DM tells them that they’ve fully explored a point of interest.

Rather than needing to be aware of the exact room layout, the party just need to know what zone they’re in and what options are available to them, Because this information is delivered in the form of a checklist with empty spaces, the party know exactly how much of the dungeon they’ve explored, what’s left to explore, and when they’ve cleared out an area.

Lets take the image above as inspiration. Say the party is trying to make it up to the tower, you can easily see a progression of zones and maybe imagine a few to go alongside them:

Ruins & Foothills: The first area, filled with the remnants of an ancient civilization. Picked over by looters and now a home to all sorts of wildlife,

Mountainside: The obvious next goal, but locked off behind a challenging climb, Filled with hazards that threaten to knock the party back down to the foothills if they’re not careful

Caverns: Secret area accessible only if the party explore a cave on the mountainside, or make a beeline towards the old aqueduct landmark in the foothills, realizing it might be easier than the climb. 

Spire Foundations: The door connecting to the foothills is guarded by a complex puzzle and arcane ward, but the party might be able to sneak in through the caves where erosion has caused a breakthrough into the cellars.

Spire Peak: High among the clouds, the party’s prize is somewhere here.  Access to the upper sections of the tower are guarded by a territorial sphinx under arcane compulsion, though the party might just be able to skip that fight if they figure out the riddle to make the portal mirrors work in the foundations.

Trying to design all this by pencilling it in on a gridmap would take weeks, to say nothing of the headache it’d cause you trying to make things fit together and fill up empty space with content. Designing it first as a sequence of zones and then filling those out with interesting fights, puzzles, and encounters is the work of an afternoon or two. Likewise, its easy on your players: five zones with six to ten points of interest is far easier to tackle when you can make a checklist and see how much progress you’ve made, despite the fact that the area they’re exploring is quite vast. 

I hope you find this as useful as I have, and if you need a more concrete example of how it might work, don’t worry, I’ll have one of those for you in the coming days.

[kattvez]

Heil Trump! 100 years on repeat.

This might make you pause and think, "No way—that could NEVER happen again!" But let’s look more closely, because the similarities are alarmingly real. Germany didn’t turn into Nazi Germany overnight; it was a slow descent, almost imperceptible at first. You may have heard the analogy of a frog in a pot of water, where the temperature rises so gradually that the frog doesn’t realize it’s being boiled alive until it’s too late. That’s what happened in Nazi Germany—and it’s what we risk today in the United States if we don’t pay attention to the warning signs.

In the early 1930s, many Germans, including Jewish citizens, dismissed Hitler as a passing phenomenon. They thought he was just a fringe figure—a "spook" who would fade away. They believed his extremist views wouldn’t gain traction. But Hitler’s appeal grew as he presented himself as a charismatic leader promising to restore Germany’s glory. His message was simple: make Germany great again. Sound familiar?

With the world reeling from the Great Depression, Hitler gained widespread support through his protectionist economic policies, offering a vision of economic relief and national revival. Many Germans, desperate for stability, ignored the darker, insidious rhetoric that came with his promises. Today, millions of Americans, feeling left behind by globalization and the rise of the tech economy, similarly turn to promises of economic revival and national pride. Like in 1930s Germany, the allure of quick fixes to complex problems can make people overlook the dangerous ideologies lurking beneath the surface.

One of Hitler’s key strategies was to undermine core democratic institutions, eroding public trust in Germany’s legal and political framework. We’re seeing echoes of this in Donald Trump’s actions. As both a candidate and a former president, Trump has repeatedly undermined the credibility of institutions when they don’t align with his interests—the courts, the electoral process, even the certification of an election. His rhetoric suggests that any institution not serving his goals is suspect, creating a divide in the public’s trust in these democratic systems.

A hallmark of Trump’s approach has been his relentless attack on the media, branding it as “fake news” whenever it criticizes him or his policies. The Nazis used a similar tactic, calling independent journalists the “Lügenpresse,” or "lying press." In both cases, this tactic seeks to sow doubt about any information that challenges the leader’s narrative. By discrediting the media, both Hitler and Trump attempt to shape reality to fit their own agendas, isolating their followers from independent sources of truth.

Scapegoating minorities has also been a disturbing common thread. Hitler blamed Jewish people for Germany's economic problems, stirring up public resentment against them as the "internal enemies" of the nation. Trump has similarly focused on specific groups, notably undocumented immigrants, portraying them as the root of America's economic and social issues. He has created a crisis around illegal immigration, expanding the role of ICE to target this group, often painting them as threats to safety, jobs, and stability. Today, similar tactics are being used against transgender individuals, who represent a tiny fraction of the population but have become a focal point of political and social resentment. Trump's rhetoric fuels these hostilities, using marginalized communities as scapegoats to rally support and divert attention from more complex issues.

Furthermore, Hitler relied on affiliated militias like the SA and SS to intimidate opponents and enforce Nazi ideology. Trump, while not formally organizing militias, has encouraged self-recruiting groups and militias, famously asking them to “stand by” during moments of tension, as seen during the January 6th Capitol riot. His cozy relationships with authoritarian leaders, like Putin, echo the alliances between Hitler and Mussolini, reinforcing the dangerous allure of authoritarianism.

The situation today may even be more dangerous because of technology. In the past, hateful rhetoric and propaganda required physical presence at rallies or the reading of pamphlets. Now, hateful content—whether anti-Semitic, anti-trans, or racist—finds its way to people’s screens, reaching millions in an instant. Algorithms amplify divisive content, pushing more extreme narratives into the mainstream, often without individuals even seeking it out.

It’s easy to believe that “it could never happen here,” but history shows that democracy is fragile, and small shifts in public sentiment, unchecked power, and targeted scapegoating can lead to devastating consequences. The parallels between Germany’s descent into Nazism and aspects of today’s political culture are a reminder of the importance of vigilance, empathy, and a commitment to protecting democratic values before it’s too late.

[windsweptinred]

So, the great 'RULES' of the Endless. I know they're meant to be there for their own and everyone else's 'good'. To avoid cosmic imbalance blah blah blah. But look at them from a slightly different angle and they smack of far more insidious Divide and Conquer tactics.

Don't interfere with each others affairs. I mean, technically speaking all your purposes are so deeply interwoven with each other, it's more unnatural to keep them forcefully divided. But if you all could just stay in your own realms, do your own thing and interact as little as possible. That would be grand! Whatever you do, don't work as a cohesive unit!

Don't spill each others blood. Who doesn't want everyone to stay alive and unharmed? Right? But it also handily protects Ma and Da from any form of retaliation. A convenient way to defang the children...Just saying.

And finally don't love mortals. Yes. Please do keep your emotional distance from the very beings whose subconsciouses form and sustain you. Loving a mortal... Uff, that would be like you having a full working understanding of the core of your power. Then sticking your cosmic charger right on in there for a XP boost. The horror!

Seems to me someone really doesn't want the Endless siblings as the united, powerful front they could be... 🤔

Can someone get Hob in here to call bullsh*t on this please?

[a-french-coconut]

Athena x Ares

She looks with disdain at the war unfolding below her.

So much carnage, so much mortality.

Ares must be basking in the bloodbath he created.

Her half-brother unfurls mixed emotions within her being.

What they share in common is what divide them.

Athena is tactical, she is who whispers in the mind of generals about great plans. She stands from afar, away from the front line.

Ares is a soldier on that front line, he is covered in blood while he fights alongside the mortals.

He is brutal, fearless, rushing into combat before she has time to design a plan worthy of victory.

And no matter how much he hates it, he embodies the soldiers who obey the generals she guides.

In the spectrum of war, they stand at the opposite of each other.

Her eyes narrow when she sees him amongst the soldiers.

He is not allowed to mingle on a such level and he knows it.

So does their father, whose punishments are not to deal with slightly.

Ares, the King is watching you.

She sees him stiffen, clearly debating if his soldier's life are worth what awaits him, but he does not vanish from the battlefield.

Ares, you fool, come back on Olympus now !

Her hands grip her spear tightly as dark clouds gather right above her brother who he still standing amongst the mortals.

He will kill them if you stay.

Thunder rumbles, the last warning from their father before he acts on.

Ares disappears in flash and the storm is avoided.

"Why must you always be so defiant ?" She asks to him, feeling his presence behind her.

He shrugs, placing his shield next to her spear, and watches with her the battle.

"They will lose without me." He says, hands gripping the balcony, "it's not fair."

"It's war."

"And yet Father prohibits me from intervening, in my own domain." He snarls, the balcony reduced to dust.

"Our domain," she corrects him, "we both share war in this pantheon, Ares."

He laughs, a mirthless sound showing his blood stained teeth.

"Your definition of war is pathetic."

Anger rises in her as she turns to face him.

"I'm not the one relishing in carnage and blood."

She takes a step forward, fury boiling in her at the insult.

"If one of us is pathetic, Ares, it's you." She snarls, ignoring the clenching of his jaw, "Unable to control your very domain. And do not forget that your precious soldiers are my generals' pawns to move as they see fit."

His red eyes flash, an aura of rage glowing around him as he refuses to back down and also gets closer.

"You call me bloodthirsty but do you even hear yourself ?" He hisses. "Calling them pawns, as if they are mere objects to move around !"

"You're a hypocrite Athena, a prideful goddess boasting about protecting heroes when in reality you send to die the real heroes."

He's screaming at her, towering over her as his divine essence shows.

"I can't believe I spent the last eons loving you !" He roars, whole body trembling with fury.

His words are a shock, a spear piercing her heart.

He is silent, tense and looking everywhere but her.

She waits for him to back track, to justify himself but he stubbornly doesn't say anything.

"You-"

"Yes." He cuts her, "I love you." he repeats with a certain sadness and resignation.

"You can't imagine how much I hated myself for it." He chuckles bitterly, "to love you as you embody everything I stand against, the massacre of soldiers as if they didn't matter, the generals safe in their bunkers are they watch, not a drop of blood staining their clothes."

"Ares," she says with caution, "I have sworn an oath of virginity, one I take very seriously and that I don't intend to break-"

"I never expected from you to do so." He sighs, picking up his shield. "Love doesn't have to be carnal, in my eyes at least."

"I... I wouldn't have expected that from you."

"I stopped trying to impress you a long time ago." He shrugs, "There was no point in trying when I already knew you despised me for what I represent."

Ares gives her a bitter smile, tinted with sadness.

"Nobody loves war, after all."

Her mind is in a frenzy, trying to compute his words and the fact that he's leaving.

She is unprepared for the yearn in her heart when she sees him leave.

They stand at the opposites of war.

What's that phrase Aphrodite rants about every time an unlikely couple is formed ?

Opposites attract.

"I do." She whispers, "I love war."

Somehow, the wind carries her words and Ares stops walking.

When he turns, there is a vulnerability she has never seen in his eyes.

"I'm not one of your pawn, Athena," he warns her, "if this is a game for you, don't even try to include me."

"It's not a game," she says firmly, "I do feel something for you."

She gets closer to him, since he is glued to his spot.

"We are both patrons of the same domain," she reasons, "it is natural for us to have a special bond."

"As long as you respect my vows, I am ready to love you Ares. And I suppose we can still have demigods children."

"You don't mind that I sleep with mortal women ?" He asks surprised, "or men ?"

"As long as it purely physical, no."

Quick as the wind, she conjures her spear and place it under his throat.

"Should you dare break those conditions while you are with me, you will regret it I assure you." She threatens him.

Ares only smiles, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Is fighting going to be our love language ?" He conjures his own spear and shield, deflecting her attack.

Athena takes a defensive stance, waiting for Ares to make the first move.

"I hope you don't mind losing." She taunts him.

"Not against you."

She rolls her eyes, even though she blushes, and block with Aegis Ares' strike.

"How do you think our family is going to take the news ?" She asks him, making a jab at his unprotected side.

"I think Artemis is going to kill me." He groans, dodging her spear.

"I won't let her." She slams him with her shield, sending him on the ground.

He kicks her, making her lost balance and falling too as he gets up.

He is stronger than her physically, but she is more strategic.

Instead of trying to get up, she grabs him and pulls him down.

He is too surprised to respond when she kisses him.

It's quick, just long enough for her to straddle him and place a knife under his throat.

"I win." She says smugly.

He doesn't respond, still dazed.

"Men, all it takes is a kiss." She scoffs, getting up.

"We should fight more often." He offers, still on the ground.

"And we will," she answers, amused, "but right now, we have a meeting to attend. Get up."

When they enter the room at the same time, Aphrodite blows a kiss to Athena, the goddess of love squealing quietly, earning herself a weird look from Artemis.

[jedipoodoo]

This might be a weird request, you don't have to write this okay! But... How about Imperal bad batch ( seperated) and pregnant reader? Hunter turns into the darks side while his wife is pregnant (almost like Anakin and Padme

THIS REQUEST GOT ME LIKE

Ma'am, I will answer any and all requests for a pregnant reader and you know that. I'm sorry for taking so long, but I really wanted to do this one justice 😁

Haunted (Imperial! Hunter x Pregnant!Fem!Reader)

Okay, so most of my Dad Batch shorts mention keeping the baby from the kaminoans and the like, so....what if they couldn't keep the baby from them???

Warnings: labor and delivery, pregnancy (obvi), kidnapping, The Empire sucks, Nala Se is a pain in the shebs, Nobody likes Wilhuff Tarkin. This one is a lot darker than my usual stuff. Dark may be too strong of a word for it, but idk how else to put it.

Notes: what it says on the label. Pregnant reader, female reader. Hunter is manipulated. Protective Hunter, Angst without a happy ending...yet. Dividers by @saradika

"Hold on just a minute more, cyare, we're almost there," Hunter urged. Echo peeked around the corner, signaling for Hunter to freeze. Hunter, holding one of your hands to lead you and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you upright, pulled you against the wall to keep from being seen around the corner. He could hear the slow, meandering gait of a Kaminoan as they walked past the hall, unsuspecting, taking all the time in the world while you struggled not to whimper at the pain in Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently patted your belly, as if that would make everything better.

"You're doing great," He whispered.

"I'm gonna kill you," You growled.

Echo hissed a warning, waving you both forward. The Kaminoan was gone.

Your comm beeped softly, and Hunter snatched it up, trying to get you to move faster when all you could do was waddle.

"Come in, Tech."

"The medical wing has been cleared. Wrecker and Crosshair will stand guard."

"Good. We're two minutes out."

"AHH!" Your knees gave out as a contraction tore through your body, and you almost slipped out of Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently lowered you to the floor to let you catch your breath, "Breathe, sweetheart, just keep breathing," He urged. It was in some stupid holo-article that he had read online, and despite the amount of research he'd put into labor and delivery, that tactic in particular was starting to get super annoying. Breathing was one of the last things on your mind when you had

"Is that one worse than the last few?" Echo asked. He was trying to be gentle, force bless him he was, but his grip on your arm was struggling not to pull you to your feet and drag you to safety.

You looked up at Hunter, and froze. Despite the fact that every single thing he was trying to do at the moment was annoying you to no end, you could see the fear quavering in his eyes.

You all knew that if the Kaminoans found you, as arrogant and self-serving as they were, they would unquestionably seize your child as Kaminoan property, enfolding him (or her) into the sea of identical brothers bred for slaughter. Neither Hunter or his brothers were going to let that happen.

"Osik," Hunter muttered none too softly. You followed his gaze to the floor, where a sticky puddle was forming from your water breaking. Osik was right.

Hunter slipped his arms under your legs and your back and hefted you in the air. He didn't even wait for the all-clear from Echo, he just ran to the med-wing.

"Hunter, I can walk-" but the next contraction stole your breath and proved you wrong. Hunter ran faster, and you could hear Echo struggling to catch up with you. You wrapped your arms around Hunter's neck and prayed.

Wrecker and Crosshair waved you past, sealing the door shut behind you. Only Tech and a single med-droid were in the tiny medical wing they had managed to clear.

"The droid's memory will be wiped the moment we are finished," Tech promised before you could voice your worries. Hunter gently sat you on the table, bracing your feet in the stirrups.

"Her contractions are two minutes and thirty seconds apart," Hunter said. The droid quickly ran a few scans to confirm and Tech handed you a large sheet of paper that hardly counted as a robe.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

You gulped, bracing yourself against another contraction. Whether or not you were ready, your baby was coming.

There was pounding on the door, but you could barely hear their demands of "Open up in there!" over the squalls of your baby.

"It's a boy," Tech said, almost as an afterthought as the droid cut the umbilical cord.

Hunter pressed his lips to your forehead, despite how sweaty and gross you felt. "Good job, cyare," He whispered, "You did so good."

You nodded, unable to think straight. "The baby..." You reached for the child bundled in Tech's arms. Hunter sprung to his feet and took them from Tech as gently as he could, bringing the baby back over to you.

"Oh," You gasped softly, running a finger across their cheek. It was a little sticky, like something that had been dried haphazardly, and their hair was still slick with blood and fluids, but you brushed it out with your fingers, letting the dark curls spring into place as he wriggled with all his newborn strength.

"He looks just like you, Hunter," You whispered.

"The spitting image," Tech had already shut down the droid to wipe its memory circuits, and you took the baby from Hunter, pressing him against your chest.

"Mama's here, Mama's here," You said, kissing the baby over and over.

The pounding on the door had stopped, but there was lots of shouting. Hunter's gaze darted to the door as he heard Wrecker cry out.

"We've got to get you out of here," He said, pulling you to your feet. You stumbled like a newborn fathier colt, leaning against him.

"I-I can't," You gasped. You tried to give him the baby, "You have to take him,"

"I'm not leaving you," He insisted.

"Now is not the time for affectionate stubbornness, Hunter, she's right. You have to get him out of here before-"

There was blasterfire in the hall, and you saw sparks fly as several bolts hit the door. Your son wailed unhappily and you reached for him, only to pull your hand back at the last moment.

"Go!" You begged Hunter, but it was too late.

The door that Tech had painstakingly sealed shut slid open, and eight shock troopers pointed their blasters into the room, aiming for you, Hunter, and the baby.

"Place the infant on the table and step back," Their captain commanded.

"No," Ever the contrarian, Hunter shielded your son from their view.

You hadn't even named him yet.

Just beyond the wall of troopers, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo had all been forced to their knees with their hands behind their heads. The bodies of several other Shock Troopers and Kaminoan security troopers were strewn about the hall, dead or alive it was hard to tell, but the Batch wasn't going down without a fight.

Admiral Tarkin stepped into the doorway to take in the damage for himself, but what made your blood run cold was Nala Se standing behind him.

"You will not take my child!" You screamed. stumbling to your feet to stand between your son and the blasters.

"Your child is Kaminoan property," Nala Se said calmly, despite the bodies of her creation littered around her.

"Imperial Property," Tarkin corrected harshly, "Much like your supposed lover and his squad. Lieutenant, you are stripped of your title and imprisoned for your crimes. CT-9901, you are also henceforth removed from your post as Sergeant. You are all under arrest."

"She has just given birth!" Tech finally spoke up, "She will not be going anywhere until she heals! Unless you wish to have her death on your hands?"

You hadn't even named him yet.

Tarkin shrugged, "Dead or alive, it makes no difference." He waved to the troopers who approached with several sets of binder cuffs like the others wore.

"No!" You screamed and leaped at the troopers. You were unable to do more than crash into them, but it gave Hunter a shot at getting through, and that was all you could hope for.

With your son secured to his chest, Hunter dashed out of the room and past the astonished Nala Se and a flabbergasted Tarkin. You smirked to yourself as you slid down to the floor, breathing heavily.

Tech grabbed your arm to steady you, and both of you were grabbed by the troopers

Hunter knew the halls of Kamino like the back of his hand. Once he made it past the original wave, there was little to stop the (former) sergeant of Clone Force Ninety-Nine.

His baby whimpered in his arms, and he hurriedly hushed them.

He'd come back for you later, or maybe his brothers would help you escape, somewhere quiet and peaceful like you'd always talked about after the war. Somewhere you could raise your family in peace.

But for now, he was only worried about doing what you'd said, and that was getting your son to safety.

"It's alright, ad'ika, we're gonna get you out of here," He whispered, pressing his lips against the boy's forehead.

"I'll keep you safe."

Alarms blared to signal his escape, which made it harder to calm the baby, but also simultaneously hid their cries.

Hunter wished that his brothers were with him, but they had all agreed to this. They had all insisted that your child was priority, and they would defend it like one of their Vode, just as they had when you joined them.

Hunter ran faster, on deft feet, always knowing which hall to take in order to avoid a clumsy stampede.

The Marauder was docked in the bay closest to the medwing, Echo needed a checkup after their last mission, but it seemed serendipitous when your contractions started in the early morning. You knew the Kaminoans would see this as openly flaunting your blatant disregard for their authority in their own city. You'd wanted to have your baby anywhere but Tipoca City, but then you'd received orders to return to Kamino with the end of the war.

Hunter grit his teeth, avoiding patrols was keeping him from going as fast as he'd like,and his son's cries were getting more and more agitated. It was a pitiful replacement, but he stuck his finger in the child's mouth to let him suck on it. As soon as he took off, he could give him the formula aboard the Marauder and look him over.

"Most childcare experts agree that there is a distinct possibility that hyperspace travel at such a delicate stage can be detrimental to child's development," Tech's voice echoed in Hunter's mind. But that couldn't be helped right now.

He turned the corner towards the bay, but it was blocked by another squad of Shock Troopers. Before he could think, he drew his blaster.

"Hunter!" You screamed in terror. Hunter's blood ran ice-cold as he spotted you.

You were on your knees, held upright by two troopers, and an Admiral (or someone else who wore one of those gray suits) had a blaster pointed at your head. Tarkin met Hunter's gaze with a smug smile.

"You made a valiant effort in your escape, Sergeant. I can only imagine how much that child means to you."

Hunter shifted the baby, holding him closer. The boy was starting to grow frantic again, now that he didn't have anything to suck on.

"However," Tarkin continued, "Much like yourself, the child is now property of the Galactic Empire. Attempting to steal him is treason."

"If I'm already committing treason, I might as well shoot you here and seal the deal." Hunter focused his aim on Tarkin.

"You could, couldn't you?" Tarkin barked a cold, humorless laugh,

"However, the moment you open fire, Vice Admiral Rampart has orders to shoot at point-blank range."

You shook your head desperately. "Hunter, don't!"

"Hand over the infant, now!" Tarkin said. His lackey in an identical suit pressed the blaster to the base of your throat, cutting off your protest.

"What will it be: the child? Or it's mother?" Tarkin sneered.

It was over. Hunter knew that. Even if he did as you asked, he still wouldn't be able to get past the Shock Troopers. His sons cries were like ringing in his ears as he tossed his blaster to the side.

They took his son from his arms, and all he could say was "Support his head!" as they turned away so that Hunter couldn't even see him anymore, but he listened to his cries as they were dragged in opposite directions.

You and Hunter were brought to what sufficed as the brig in Tipoca City. Tech, Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker were already there, and they hurried to make room for you to sit on the only bench available. Your legs were shaking terribly, and you were sore all over. The pain medication Tech had given you was starting to wear off. Tech gave you a once-over as best he could without his datapad or any medical gear.

"Most of this recovery takes several months anyway, even without the added stress you've been through," He said, it what must have been an objectively positive observation, but only served to remind you of everything you had just lost.

"Where's the kid?" Crosshair demanded. Hunter couldn't even look him in the eye from the insane guilt he felt at giving up his son. All you could do was cry.

Crosshair cursed and slammed his fist against the wall, though he didn't know what he was expecting from an operation like this. Clone Force 99 had never known failure like this before, it was a foreign feeling to them.

Hunter refused to let himself cry. He had to be strong for his brothers, for you and your son. He had to get you out of there, somehow.

He didn't even know how you could bare to look at him for such a catastrophic failure, but you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him close to you.

"We...we didn't even get to name him," You whimpered in Hunter's arms.

Hunter's jaw stiffened atop the crown of your head.

"Well, let's name him now."

It felt slightly pathetic, sobbing in a jail cell over a child that had been ripped from your arms, but the idea of naming him felt like a rousing battle cry deep in your soul. The Kaminoans hated the names that the clones gave each other, and despite all the nicknames that they claimed and gave to each other, at the end of the day only their numbers were written on reports and official documentation.

But your son wasn't a clone. He was your son. And he would have a name from birth.

"Asher." You said. Where you came from, the name symbolized hope, of something beautiful and precious being created from the ashes of destruction. Something like your life as a family.

Hunter nodded, gently rubbing circles into your shoulders. "Asher it is."

"CT-9901, you need to come with us."

Ice encased your heart as the shock troopers approached the makeshift cell, deactivating the shield.

"Don't," You begged, looking up at him as your hands dug into his shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I have to," He whispered, working your fingers loose so he could stand.

"She's right," Echo said loudly, standing up.

"Yes, we stay together." Tech stepped between Hunter and the shock trooper.

The trooper did not take kindly to this show of defiance, and drove the butt of his blaster into Tech's stomach. Tech fell to his knees as he gasped in pain, and the others all stood ready to fight, but knowing it was fruitless.

"Enough," Hunter stood, motioning to his brothers to stand down.

"I'll go."

He wasn't cuffed, but there was a blaster muzzle in his back every step of the way. The troopers led him back to the med bay, where several medical droids were still cleaning the room that you had commandeered earlier. The troopers marched him past the room and past a large window where several cadets were going through their checkups. And right in the corner was Asher.

Hunter disregarded the warnings from the Troopers and place his hand against the window, wishing he could catch his son's attention. He was in an incubation box, sound asleep, with monitors strapped to his chest. Hunter was just relieved he wasn't in a growth tube.

"Asher," He murmured as a shock trooper gripped his shoulder, "Your name is Asher."

The troopers all but dragged him to another closed-off room, where Tarkin waited with Nala Se and a datapad. Hunter kept his focus on Tarkin, wondering if the so-called "Admiral" had spent as much time with a hot blaster in his hand than in a comfortable office on Coruscaunt.

"We meet again, Sergeant."

Hunter chuckled, "I thought I wasn't a Sergeant anymore, Admiral."

"I suppose you'd prefer to be called CT-9901, then?"

So the Admiral did know about their chosen names, he just chose not to use them.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to not let his breathing get the best of him.

"What I need is your cooperation,"

Hunter shrugged, "Sounds simple enough. Just let them go."

He knew it was a fool's dream to think that Tarkin would actually acquiesce to his demands, but he had to try.

"Let my wife, son, and brothers go and I'll do whatever you want."

Tarkin squared his shoulders to challenge Hunter, "Certainly not. That would be a grave mistake on our part. Think of all that we could learn. The Empire has other plans for a force-sensitive child."

Hunter's blood ran cold.

"Oh, you didn't know," Tarkin smiled slyly, and Hunter's hands clenched in an effort to keep from slapping the smirk off his face.

Nala Se handed Tarkin her datapad, "Nala Se's team has performed all the necessary tests and administered the correct vaccinations for your child. A quick blood test showed a count of approximately fifteen-thousand midi-chlorians."

Hunter's throat ran dry, and his ears rang with the sound of his son- Asher's- cries.

"You have a simple choice, Sergeant. Join the Empire freely, stay with your brothers, your partner and your child, or be forced to watch them suffer for your treason."

It wasn't much of a choice, and Hunter knew it. They were offering him the short end of the stick to pull him from the same raging rapids they had tossed him into, but it was either that or drown.

And he would sacrifice everything he was for the chance to protect you and your child.

Post-Script: I know I've used Asher as a name for Crosshair's kid but it fit too well for this AU.

[lightning-and-sparks]

Over analyzing Swan Lake:

I’ve played Swan Lake to much because I’m genuinely terrible at it and I want to point out something cool…

Wander, Brezz, and Mihaly all have very unique dancing styles that contribute to the narrative of the song. Let’s break it down.

Wanderlust is the first “challenger” to face Sara. As we’ve seen in previous songs, he has a very fluid dance style. For most of his Swan Lake choreo he’s not very grounded and seems to be light on his feet. I see this being a direct translation to him being more “agile” in a fight. Of course he only lasts so long as he gets distracted by the corruption and is caught of guard by it. He gets stuck in a “stalemate” and Brezziana steps up:

Brezz’s moves are very similar to Wanderlust’s with one key difference. She is more planted. She isn’t moving as much as Wanderlust and takes a more defensive stance. Her moves are very rigid and powerful. She sees how Wander’s technique was holding Sara at bay so she adapts it. She is more focused on standing her ground than attacking unlike Wander. Eventually, she also gets overwhelmed by the corruption and when she takes her focus off Sara she also gets stuck in the “stalemate.”

Finally, Mihaly. Mihaly’s moves are completely different that Wanderlust or Brezziana’s. Instead of adapting the choreo they switch to their style in an effort to switch forms. Sara is caught off guard by the change of form and Mihaly gets the advantage. As Sara Switches tactics, Mihaly starts losing and gives up their form to send a warning to Jack Rose. Finally they are locked into the “stalemate” as well.

For the final stretch of Swan Lake we see all three of them switch to the corrupt forms and start to move in sync. This is important! They are all dancing together (even Sara) and they become more powerful. When we look back at the whole song you realize that if they fought together they could have beat Sara, Night Swan knew this and kept them apart. They are all very different dancers and that helps them but hurts them more. Even in “If you Wanna Party” not every coach is moving the same. They switch in and out for the spotlight which makes a great dance and map, but also shows this divide between five dancers across five dimensions; they can dance similar for a few moves but at the end of the day they’re different. The uniqueness helped them defeat Night Swan but it also divides them.

TL;DR: Wanderlust, Brezziana and Mihaly lose in Swan Lake because they can’t work together.

[mayapapaya33]

Knowledge and Power

I've been thinking about this for a while. They are in Vasselheim now, Is the Horn of Orcus ok? Has it been unsealed? Did someone manage to sneakily steal it when the solstice happened? I NEED TO KNOW MATTHEW!!! I'm mid episode 104. I know we have a lot going on right now, but Matt keeps dropping hints about what's happening elsewhere in the world, like Desirat being released from their prison, all of Vasselheim's dead rising, stuff like that. I need to know about the Horn! Come on Matt, give us a problem for Campaign 4! lol. It's great storytelling, fleshing out the reality that Bells Hells are one group of many fighting the good fight and a lot of shit is currently on fire right now. I've loved every bit of it.

The Horn of Orcus was also the first and most prominent time the concept of dangerous knowledge came up in the game. Not just in a "knowledge is power" way, but in that, by knowing the information you are giving power to something bad and opening yourself up to trouble, literally just by possessing the knowledge in your brain. It's such an interesting concept to explore in a magic setting. How knowledge and worship and power intertwine.

I myself am very anti-censorship Irl, but the very rare times it's justified in my opinion are for things like recipes for horrific biological or chemical weapons, stuff like that. That concept can be broadened in the context of magic, like in C2 when reading that book gave Beau and Caleb magic eye herpes lmfao. Usually I am very much on the freedom of information side of things, so Ludinus threatening to share information was a bit of a meh threat to me personally at first. While it would be very disruptive in the short term, and people may indeed kill each other over it, I do think historical truths should be freely disseminated, not hidden for fear that people are too stupid to handle it. (Even though people ARE often too stupid to handle it, we have a right to our own stupidity I feel).

What I'm wondering is if Ludinus is making a subtler play than they are imagining. Yes divide and conquer is a good tactic, and that information will help him get people disagreeing. But more than that, shaking the faith of mass swathes of people all at once CAN'T be good for a Godly constitution. I don't think it's just about swaying people to his cause, I think he's trying to strategically weaken the God's power base before the big throw down with Predathos. Kind of like what Vecna did/ tried to do in late C1. So stopping Ludinus from sharing this information might end up being VERY important in the grand scheme of things.

Yes people already knew the Gods destroyed Aeor, and I think it was even known that the Primes and Betrayers formed a temporary truce to handle the threat. But knowing that information academically and seeing it firsthand are two VERY different things. Seeing the Primes care about and bicker with the Betrayers like... well...siblings, may come as a slap in the face to the truly devout. Also how many people actually knew that about Aeor or that Aeor even existed? Not everyone is proficient in history nor religious studies. Not to drag this too much into the real world, but how many religious people actually read whatever book they claim faith in cover to cover and know the whole history of it? It's definitely not all of them lol.

I bet there's plenty of religious people in Exandria that don't know shit about Aeor. Most people in Vasselheim probably would, because that place is THE God city on Exandria and survived the Calamity, but everywhere else? Unless they were specifically interested in religious history, why would they know it? So the reveal has the potential to be very impactful still, both for it's visceral feeling in exposing a peak into the God's relationships, and their deeds, and it will still be new info for some.

[homestuckreplay]

homestuck updates: ‘a font of frighteningly accurate yet infuriatingly nonspecific information’

(page 836-842)

After toiling through the pain and emptiness of three days without new Homestuck pages, it’s great to check back in with our old friends: Rose, Dave and- wait. Someone’s missing.

IT HAS BEEN 179 PAGES SINCE JOHN EGBERT WAS SIGHTED.

Dave is engaged in his rooftop battle with Bro. John and Rose’s ‘STRIFE!’ pages were interactive, but Dave’s is not – a direct contrast to their haunting music pages, where Dave’s was interactive and John and Rose’s weren’t. Dave also has a multi-round strife, similar to John’s imp strife on pages 393, 397 and 400. Dave’s opponent (in round 1) is really Cal and not Bro, with Bro remaining a mysterious, aloof background figure seen mostly in silhouette – John and Rose both fought their guardians directly, but Bro prefers these stealth puppetmaster tactics.

In a final difference, where John and Rose each had four strife options, Dave has eight – possibly due to more previous strife experience. His are Aggrieve, Aggress, Abjure, Abstain, Abuse, Accuse, Assail and Assault. The first four he shares with Rose, but the final four haven’t been seen before. They’re still not seen today, because Bro slices through the options with a sword in a very familiar move – Dave did the same thing to the ‘Enter name’ box on p.310. Guess we know where he learned that trick. And it really highlights Bro’s level of control over Dave, and ability to restrict his actions.

The swirling red heat behind Dave looks like an eye, and was seen reflected in Dave’s glasses on page 665, which creates this unsettling idea of Dave being surveilled by some cosmic force. Lil Cal’s glassy blue eyes are always in focus, there’s the ‘eye’ of the record on Dave’s shirt, and I’m noting this eye motif for a character who both covers his eyes constantly, and is watched constantly (p.570).

The Jade and Rose dynamic is top tier, and every time there’s a Rose pesterlog her character voice gets stronger and I love the way she talks even more. I like when we see two characters side by side and have their environments contrasted, like the panel above. I also like that Rose thinks it’s cool to have a friend with predictive abilities. Rose has a healthy respect for powers mysterious and beyond her understanding (p.297) and believes in the zoologically dubious, and I like that she is so open to the supernatural (wizards excepted). It is very funny that she is basically banging on the village seer’s door at 4am like “hey can you predict something for me. Hey what’s the omen of today??” but I have never wanted Jade to be wrong about a prediction more than when she says they ‘won’t talk again for a pretty long time’.

So far Act 3 is both focusing on a character with established future knowledge, and foregrounding the theme of fate and predetermination in the narrative, which was only hinted at before. The act began with John’s nanna’s Sassacre prophecy and immediately switched to Jade, who knew in advance that she would be introduced. We examined the magic 8 ball and magic cue ball, reinforcing the potential of prophecy, and now we learn that Jade has predicted that all four characters will play ‘a game’ on John’s birthday, that ‘it all starts’ with John and Rose, and most curiously of all, that the apocalypse and race to not die in meteor collisions ‘will be fun!!!!!!’

But she also says that ‘dave is cool’ so I wonder. Does Jade’s opinions about her friends influence the predictions she makes – she already thinks Dave is cool and so believes he will come through, even though that may not be true? Or, do the things Jade predicts about her friends influence her opinion of them – she knows that Dave will come through in the future, which makes her see Dave as cool, even though he’s kind of a shithead now?

In her GameFAQs, Rose says, ‘In our instance of this dimension, there are four receptacles for divided kernels, not three. Does this mean we are “destined” to have a four player chain? How could the game “know” such a thing?’ (p.440). Interestingly, after Rose asks this question, the narrative cuts to her first conversation with Jade. Rose presumably does not know that Jade lives beside the frog statue, but that’s the clear missing link – Skaia has predictive power as well as creative power, and Jade and the game are harnessing the same force to ‘see’ this four player chain.

Which leads to a million more questions for another day. Today, Rose captchalogues her dead cat (typical goth behavior) and heads down into an ominous, green-glowing, radioactive mad science potion lab in a very visually cool moment.

> Rose: Forget about Sburb and get really into tarot reading.