#as a former owner of a goat

[void-occupation]

I'M NOT DEAD!!!!!!

I have finally returned and have decided to post my most recent fixation for everyone to see. (I've been through this song and dance before but now everyone gets to see it). Also, it's not angst related?????? Who am I and what have I done with the real Void-

Optimus Prime has to repeatedly be told that he cannot in fact adopt every animal that happens to cross his path, and he has brought back everything from boxes of cats, to a stray dog, to a whole ass mountain lion on one particularly memorable occasion. HOWEVER, there is one animal he absolutely refuses to take home, and even attempts to avoid contact with at all costs. This giant alien robot who has fought in a continuous war for thousands of years will place more trust in Unicron himself (who he has literally almost died fighting) then he will in a goat. Specifically the screaming variety. The humans and most of team Prime had never seen Optimus get truly freaked out by anything - that is until he stepped into the base one day and promptly froze on the spot.

A recent sandstorm had destroyed someone's fence and a few of their goats got out. Bumblebee - taking after his sire obviously - saw the animal wandering around the desert and decided to take it back to base until the kids could find out where it lived. Optimus, who was just returning from his patrol, did not expect to return and find that the literal spawn of satan had invaded his home, and therefore was not ready to confront this secret phobia of his (especially not in front of his friends and family). So,,,, he walks in and just,,, stops. Doesn't even blink. Ratchet hasn't seen his optics this wide since he was Orion Pax. The worst part? This fucking goat is just staring him down. No mercy. Optimus can practically feel the pure malice this thing radiates as he tries to remember how to vent.

No one understands what kind of staring contest Optimus and this goat are having, but you could practically cut the tension between them with a knife. Suddenly, this goat just fucking s c r e a m s and Optimus promptly loses his damn mind. He lets out the highest pitch screech he has made in his centuries-long-life, and trips over himself in his haste to get away from this nightmare spawn standing before him.

Long story short, even after watching it happen, no one knows how Optimus scrambled up into the rafters, but he is now refusing to come down until the goat is gone, and is keeping an arm-cannon aimed at it at all times. Yes, he hears at least half of the bases occupants laughing their asses off at him, and yes, he hears Miko practically crying through her laughter, but Primus damn it he is not coming down until that thing is gone, Bumblebee so help me-

Eventually, the goat is removed from the base, and Optimus finally makes his way back to solid ground. His faceplace is practically glowing blue with his embarrassment, and he won't make eye contact with anyone for at least the next two hours, but now that the goat is gone, he's fine. He has to live with the jokes about it from everyone there for the rest of his life, but no matter how much they pester him about it, he refuses to divulge the story about the origin of his incurable fear of goats. He plans to take that story with him to the all spark (He eventually tells Ratchet and Bumblebee, the former of which promises never to tell another soul, the latter attempts to do the same, but accidentally tells Raf, who accidentally tells Miko, who purposefully ensures that everyone else knows by the end of the week. (Optimus isn't too mad, the story is actually quite funny as long as he is not within 3 miles of a goat at any point in the telling of the story.))

[bietrofastimoff23]

ep5: I've never seen a more boring episode. this is the first time I've had to skip scenes. incompetent stretching of timekeeping, monotonous babbling without any disclosure of the characters, chopped bland dialogues that do not advance the plot in any way, prolonged glances. the councils continue to spin one sexist hurdy-gurdy, as if Rhaenyra and Alicent are unable to rule because of their gender, and not because one of them is inactive while the houses of her supporters are defeated, and the other has not offered anything during all this time and has released the enemy, and demands as a "reward" for this to herself the title of regent. those close to them are fighting for their monarchs not because Rhaenyra or Aegon are capable leaders or they support their claims, but because "well, Viserys wanted it that way," "my grandma fought and I will." the enemy actions in the show are not seen as attacking, but as a bad omen for the greens (Meleys broke through the floor and killed thousands of people, but she was definitely a "beloved dragon" and everyone is very worried about her"). we continue to be poked in the face by hanged rat catchers, and this act is given more time than any crime of TB, also the fact that hotd shows more longing for the killer of the child (the dog that continues to follow the body of the former owner) than for anyone else makes the situation worse. and this is only the first thing that caught my eye, in fact, there is still something to complain about.

the only interesting thing left after the charred Aegon is Daemon's trips and Larys's equanimity (and Criston Cole's attempts not to commit s@icide a second time, fight me. well, his dynamics with Gwayne too).

and finally, the absolute GOATs of ep5:

[iamthemain-character]

Sankt Milo

platonic! The Crows x reader

gender neutral pronouns (reader is referred to as “you” and the occasional “Y/n”)

TW: show-based, non-canon compliant, 2014-Avengers-Tower-fic-type of writing

a/n: milo is my favorite character. that’s all.

Shadow and Bone Masterlist

You had been absent for almost a week.

Sunday afternoon, you simply disappeared from the club and hadn’t returned since. The only reason the Crows hadn’t completely panicked yet was because you had left notes for all of them saying you had to leave but you would return (each with a special indication that you did not write this as you were being kidnapped). Nonetheless, The Crow Club felt emptier without you, and each member missed you terribly.

It was storming late that Friday, and after closing the club post-another successful night, all 6 crows were gathered around a table, enjoying a drink together. With a clap of thunder the group heard the back door slam open, then shut again. Everyone drew their weapons, hearing heavy footsteps slosh their way across the wooden floors. A figure, cloaked in shadow, stopped in the entryway from the storage rooms, and everyone waited with baited breath to strike.

With a flash of lightning, the figure’s shadows were cast aside, revealing you. A very drenched and bedraggled you, but you nonetheless.

“Y/n!” 5 voices cried out.

“Milo!” Jesper’s voice carried over the others, for even more astonishing than your return was the furry, black and white animal you carried in your arms.

The Zemeni man quickly crossed the room, but not without Nina, Inej, and Wylan on his heels. The latter three took your hands, throwing a dry blanket over your shoulders and Jesper carefully took the goat from your arms, pressing kisses to it’s head over and over.

“Oh Milo, I have thought of you every day.”

The group helped you sit down at the table, bringing more towels and blankets, and Kaz pouring you a strong drink. But despite your shivering, you couldn’t help the smile that cracked across your face as you watched your friend reunited with his emotional support goat old friend.

Wylan turned to you, an incredulous look on his face. “That’s Milo?”

Nina and Matthias had matching confused expressions on their faces, but it was Nina who spoke up. “So did you disappear without a trace for the goat or was that just a happy accident? Also why is Jesper in love with a goat?”

With a laugh, some help from Inej, and some quips from Kaz, you told the newer Crows of the treacherous and disastrous journey the group had taken through The Fold and how Jesper had formed a trauma-bond with this particular goat.

Jesper came back to your table, Milo still clutched in his arms, just as you were explaining yourself.

“Jesper was so sad to say goodbye to Milo, and I just wanted to get him back. But I didn’t want to tell you guys that’s what I was doing in case I wasn’t successful. But thankfully that sweet barmaid had sent him to her father’s farm, and I was able to buy him back.”

“Please tell me you didn’t spend too much for that goat.” Kaz’s voice cut, head turned with his classic look of disapproval.

No longer able to be scared by Dirtyhands, you waved him off. “No price is too much for our little Milo.” With a smirk you turned back to the club owner, “Perhaps we should rename this place The Goat Club?”

The table roared with laughter at the pure look of disgust upon Kaz’s face at your simple suggestion. Inej reached across and scratched Milo’s chin, a smile upon her face. “That’s not so bad, after all, Milo is like our own little Saint.”

Nina clasped her hands together, delighted at the Suli girl’s suggestion. “Sankt Milo! Oh how perfect. I am all for the changing of the name.”

Kaz’s voice broke through the laughter. “We are not changing the name, and we are not keeping it.”

Despite what he said, Wylan found himself grateful for Jesper’s arms around him as they fell asleep, because otherwise the former feared he would have fallen of the edge of the bed. Somehow, one small goat seemed to take up half the bed.

And even though Kaz swore that the goat would be sold in the morning, everyone turned a blind eye when he placed a plate of waffles down for Milo in the morning.

That was, everyone turned a blind eye until Nina realized they were her waffles.

[o9t1mus-x]

the flames devour (everything that we are)

pairing: (young) sister imperator x (young) papa nihil emeritus

warnings: SMUT! vaginal sex, vaginal fingering/cunnilingus, groupie sex/mild infidelity, a messy coupling, some light angst and mentioned misogyny, mentioned past murder, set around the late 60's but before the Kiss the Go Goat incident, only Primo and Secondo exist

summary: Control, power, fame. Everything Sister Imperator promised the Clergy that the Ghost Project would culminate and more. But when push comes to shove and Nihil can't look past the packed backstage doors, someone has to put their foot down. (Surprise, surprise. It's not Sister Imperator).

word count: 10.2k

authors note: special thanks to @barelydaisy for commissioning this piece from me! the gratitude i feel towards you makes me ever so fond! i hope whoever reads this enjoys it, comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated!

MINORS DNI

Read On AO3

--------------------------

Facetious. Flippant. Exaggeratedly stupid enough to make her head thrum with anger on a daily basis. How unfortunate that he be so alluring. 

The motel lobby was stuffy, the air thick and humid with the hum of the heater. She assumed it was the owner’s fault the heat was up so high, the flurries of snow outside swirling across the frosted panes of glass. She looked at the carpet below her, mottled with green and brown in an unappealing combination. It was a struggle to push down the urge to scoff.

Lifting her head, she studied the features in the dimly lit foyer. The furniture was mismatched in an abysmal show of ‘interior design’ skills, a mixing of modern and so dreadfully outdated that it made her want to retch. Resisting the urge to openly huff, Imperator pulled her coat tighter around her. The fur trim tickles against her neck, her hair further up than normal and lessening the chance of it whipping in the wind. The silk scarf wrapped around her head protects her ears, and heightens the anticipation of walking into a room and having all eyes on her. 

She walks closer to the small front office window, peering in a bit more. The urge to ring the call bell and finally get some goddamn service was at the forefront of her mind. The dingy carpet, the thick lining of dust in the creases of the front desk, she could go on about the reasons she wished they were at another motel. To put it lightly, they were shit out of luck. She was no stranger to dingy motels, but the fact that they were better than that was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

The tour was going well. In fact, better than well. Throngs of screaming fans, clubs and bars packed with people begging for an opportunity to see Papa Nihil up close. From her spot in the wings, Sister Imperator watched with subtle glee. She knew that Nihil was charismatic, but she hadn’t anticipated the reception they had gotten from the public. There were those in it for the music, for Satan, or more overwhelmingly for him. The dingy bars had been acceptable to play, the low tickets quickly piling into more than they had ever imagined possible for the Clergy. 

Sister had fought for the Ghost project, staring down the eyes of men she knew only wanted to see her on her back with her legs spread. Men who wouldn’t shirk the chance to push her down for fun, to throw down her ideas with a lackadaisical “We���ll consider it.” But Sister Imperator had listened to her, looked at her ideas with an interest that led to her taking a young woman with wild ideas under her wing. And now here she was, with her title and her status, a former name now neglected, a shallow grave in the woods at the Abbey that nobody would find,  and a small syringe hidden in a lockbox that she had thrown away the key to. 

But with fame and a message spreading far quicker than anticipated, Sister couldn’t help but wish to stretch the budget in other ways. For once she would like to lay her head in a bed she hadn’t voraciously searched for bed bugs, stripping the sheets to find cigarette burns in the mattress. Nihil hadn’t cared, simply flopping down beside her and mouth opening in an uncaring yawn. Though they had separate rooms, it was seldom that they spent the night away from one another. Though she was loath to admit it, she had grown used to the weight of his head on her chest and the rise and fall of his breath on her nightgown. The road was lonely, who else to turn to but him? Practically any ghoul or stage hand , she thought to herself. But where was the fun in that?

Her line of thought was broken as she heard the waddling gait of the man stationed at the front desk, his non-slip shoes certainly close to slipping on the waxed linoleum. He appeared at the window, the flannel buttoned so tightly around his neck that she was frightened it was strangling him. 

He let out a huff, flipping through the pages of paperwork that the Clergy had sent months earlier in preparation for the tour. Three rooms, two for her and Nihil and one for any reclusive ghouls that didn’t want to pile in on the bus. The man looked at her, locking eyes with an uninterested, if slightly bored, look. “Alright, I found the work in the back. Took me a minute, but it was just tucked away. You have ID, right?” 

Sister nodded, her hand reaching into the mustard yellow vinyl bag she kept her clutch in. After flicking through her pocket change, she found her ID behind Nihil’s credit card. She grabbed it, placing it down on the cracked plastic of the desk and pushing it towards the man. Though she had gloves on, she didn’t trust how clean the man's hands were and didn’t want to risk him staining the crisp white of her faux fur gloves. (She cared little for the plight of the leather industry, but she couldn’t deny the news articles dampened her excitement for a new addition to her closet). 

The man picked up the ID, gave it a cursory glance and nodded his head in acceptance. His hand slid under the desk, looking around for the keys no doubt. She turned around, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as the heater had stopped its incessant blasting. She turned in a half circle, her boots clicking against the floor once and then stopping. Her eyes turned to the window, the flurries coming down as mercilessly as they had been when they had rolled into the parking lot. 

The light from the overhead street light shone hazy light over the parking lot, blending into the dark of the winter night as seamlessly as cream stirred into coffee. The bus was in the distance, the tinted lights only showing blurry shapes moving against the inside of the vehicle. That wasn’t what she glimpsed that snatched her attention away from the moment.

 Leaning against the pillar of the motel was the curved posture of Nihil, his coat wrapped around his waist in a way that posited his sculpted abdomen that anybody would blush at. His makeup was still painted on, though a familiar eye could tell where it was beginning to pill on his neck from the copious sweat that poured down in the stage lights. His legs were crossed behind him, his platforms digging into the swirls of snow that would no doubt accumulate over night. Even through the heat of his body, the flakes of snow drifting down had caught on the unruly strands of hair and failed to melt. That wasn’t what Sister couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from. 

Nihil’s arm was placed along the hip of a woman, unknown to her. No doubt a fan from the way the woman’s lips were curled into gleeful disbelief at her luck. Sister could almost imagine the tittering, the vapid flustering of words that had become so commonplace that all she could do was turn with a roll of her eyes and a tap of her cigarette. The woman’s lips moved, and Sister could see Nihil’s mouth open in a laugh, the easy smile on his face directed at her. The hand on the woman’s hip visibly gripped tighter, pulling her closer to the warmth of his torso. The woman’s hand raised, gripping his clothed bicep and running up and down. Mocking. 

Nihil turned, the woman moving alongside him and his arm curling around her hips, her deliciously full waist. His fingers pulled at the flesh, and his touch was… soft. Unfamiliar and with an air of understanding that no doubt made the woman’s stomach flutter with warmth. Had she ever been touched by a man, a woman? The intoxicating knowledge that she had sealed the deal with Papa Nihil, up and coming star of the Olde One himself. Did she know just how well his fingers moved, how his cock had made so many feel like their world was melting around them? She soon would. 

Sister’s face was blank, her eyes narrowed in contemplation and thinly veiled vexation. Her stomach was simmering with… rage? Unclear. Her gloves squeaked as her hands squeezed together, her arms still crossed tightly together. 

“Ma’am?” A voice said behind her, and she turned on her heel. What now? Imperator thought, her eyes flicking down at the set of keys on the ledge of the desk and her irritation fading. She picked up the key, gripping it in her hand. 

The front desk attendant reached into the drawer, his head tilting up to meet her gaze. “Do you want the other key for your friend?” He motioned his head, leaning on his foot to look at Nihil outside. 

Sister shook her head, her hair weighing heavy on top of it. She still needed to take a shower, unravel the intricate pins around her bun, and unpack her clothes for the morning. She let out a sigh, a careful shrug of her shoulders as she craned her head around to look out the window once more. Still in the cold, Nihil’s arms were wrapped tightly around the woman, his lips latched onto her neck and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly a wanton moan. In the middle of the night, no one was around to see them. But Sister knew he would have done it onstage, at an after party, on an altar at Black Mass for Satan’s sake. 

She swiftly turned her head, meeting his gaze and pointedly dropping a twenty on the cracked plastic once more. “He can do it himself, I’m certain he can manage.” Her voice came out firm and stiff in the quiet of the lobby, and she turned to walk to the door. While she could ignore the way he licked at the woman's ear, turning pink from the bitter gusts of wind, she couldn’t ignore the simmering heat in her stomach. But there was nothing saying she couldn’t try. 

___________________

The heat of the dressing room was sweltering, the push and pull of bodies making Imperator’s lip curl in disgust. The heat of the fire ghoul to her left was making her sweat, and she couldn’t afford to stain the new Emilio Pucci dress she had purchased earlier that day. The pink and green pattern helped to disguise the sweat no doubt attempting to push its way past her slip, the silk cool against her skin in the overwhelming bustle before the show. She was happy she opted to wear her hair in a high bun, the bump in her hair allowing the thin air to waft against her neck. 

As she studied the people (and otherwise) in the room, her eyes landed on Nihil naturally. His hands were steady as he painted the lines across his lips, his mouth open in what would be a gasp if the thought to do so struck him. She smiled, her hand raising to her lips and taking a small drag of her cigarette. She let her hand fall away, tapping the ash into the crowded ashtray to her left. As the months in the tour had gone on, she had felt drawn towards Nihil. Long nights were spent with him nestled into her side, speaking about where they had come from, their dreams, what toppings they would add to a sundae, what colors they look best in. It was hard to deny the way her heart pounded when he drew near, though she hid it behind a stern demeanor and a perfectly drawn on smile. 

The door opened, a ghoul walking in and looking towards Nihil. “Papa? You’ve got a call on the other line, the manager is trying to patch it through to ‘ya.” The earth ghoul spoke in a lethargic sway as he pushed his way through the crowd, the familiar pungent smell of dope stuck to his clothes. Nihil nodded, shooting the ghoul a half painted grin as he set down the brush and reached for the white marbled telephone to his left. He picked it up off the receiver, holding it against his ear. He paused, listening for the feedback of the call. 

“Yello?” Nihil said into the phone, a confused look on his face, though it stretched into a grin as he let the call go on further. “Yes, it’s Papa. I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? Is it not night there, ragazzino? ( little boy).” Nihil’s lips were wide as he snickered into the phone, cradling it to his ear as he listened intently. Imperator could have bled from the ears at the urge to roll her eyes. 

Nihil’s son Primo was sweet, there were no doubts about that. Quiet and intelligent, he was racing through his studies with diligence that was admirable for children his age. However, she couldn’t stop the irritation that fueled her when she saw him, heard his voice. He was a child, for Satan’s sake, she was being unreasonably harsh! But he was part of the bloodline, time would tell if he was worthy of his spot as Papa in adulthood. For now, he would watch Doctor Who and study to be the antipope. What an antithesis, she snorted to herself, pulling her cigarette to her lips for another puff. 

“I will keep you on my mind, make sure to keep an eye out for your little brother. Especially him, I know he has been eating my Cordials. I have eyes on him, the piccola rana. (little frog).” NIhil laughs, his white paint creasing where he had failed to set it. After a minute or so of diligent listening, he shushes into the phone. “Goodnight, tell your fratello I send my love.” A pause, and a look of tired fondness softens his face. “Bye bye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, placing it back on the receiver with a ring. 

She wouldn’t pry, Sister thought to herself. Though she was never one to shy away from stirring up the mud with a well placed jab, she knew better than to push at the… delicate nature of Nihil’s relationship with his young children. It’s not as though they were all little monsters (She found herself grimacing internally, they weren’t little monsters all the time. But it would be no hard challenge to count on her fingers all the times she’d found leftover Chiclets from Secondo in her purse. Little bastard). 

She rose from her seat, pushing through the ghouls pulling on their clothes for the performance. Walking up to stand behind his desk, she met his gaze in the mirror with a smile barely noticeable in the haze of the dimly lit room. 

Nihil meets her smile with one of his own, his hand deftly gripping the small liner brush to his left and dipping it into the black grease paint. His eyes pull away from hers with a small degree of difficulty, she notices, and looks towards the mirror and continues the small strokes across his lips, above the bow of his upper lip and ending at his full lower lip. Hands rise, resting on his shoulders as she leans slowly down. Sister smiles, pulling in his scent that was so delicately him. How he managed to smell like juniper and basil eluded her, Nihil even going to a point of going into another room to spray his cologne so she couldn’t see the bottle. (“A man has to have some sort of mystery, si?” He had laughed, and she responded with a scoff. It still didn’t stop her from scouring every perfume counter in every city to find it). 

She leaned her cheek against his, his eyes still locked onto his visage in the mirror, but his hands had a perceptible shake to them. “Nervous?” Sister purred, her pink frosted nails tracing along the line of his black leather coat.

Her cheek pulled away from his, her lips turning to the shell of his ear. Her breath was soft and warm on his ear, a tickle against the skin of his neck that pulled the hair on end quicker than the cold outside. Even in a warm room, Sister made him feel as if he’d gone skinny dipping in November. 

“No, I am not. Merely hot.” His voice was soft in the din of the crowded room. “You would think they would have another room to dress in, si ?”  He smiled at her, adding a thicker line to balance the larger stripe alongside it. Her nails continue to trace along his collar, the soft pads on her finger edging along the skin of his neck. Dipping into the countours of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple with a calculating grace. His breath was steady, but his eyes, not yet coated with black shadow, were lidded with a hazy fondness. 

An excited yelp from the corner by Nihil’s own guitarist shocked her out of the moment, her hands quickly pulling away. NIhil’s smile dropped in disappointment, but it stilled as Sister’s hands returned to tug his collar closer together and quickly fasten a button.

“We have a budget, Papa.” Sister’s voice said softly, though it was said with such finality so as to stop the train of conversation from going any further. Nihil shrugged, setting down the smaller liner brush and reaching across the table for his loose powder. As he opened his mouth, she knew the attempt would go ignored.

He hummed, looking up at her with a playful smirk, “Oh? And our budget includes a new pair of pumps?” At that her smile becomes an even line, her thin eyebrows furrowing as the words drop from his lips. Of course he had to push too far. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the limits of their spending allowance. It didn’t stop him picking the most upscale restaurants in the area, loosening the buttons on his shirts as more and more drinks were sent to the table, the way his eyes roamed the women who passed by. To her annoyance, he had never noticed the way her hands gripped the stem of her wine glass with vitriol, how she met the gaze of every curious woman and turned their eyes away. 

“Yes. Just as it apparently includes a new coat and- oh? What’s this?” Sister’s hands shot towards him, gripping his wrist with care. She held it with tightness, making sure not to hurt Nihil. Never hurt, she told herself. Sister’s eyes sparked with a curious viciousness, but her stomach burned with ire.

“A new watch? Where could you have possibly gotten this little gem?” She hummed similarly to his own playful song moments beforehand. If there was one thing Imperator could do, she could match someone’s game. In kindness or in truculence. 

Nihil’s smile didn’t drop, but the kidnapped arm rose and cupped her cheek. She sighed, resisting the urge to lean into his palm. The hand remained around his wrist, but she let it it go somewhat lax. The thick curls of hair along his arms were soft, though the wiry swirls of hair along his stomach were similar but not quite so coarse. Her thumb rubbed along his wrist, a gentle back and forth. 

“I want to look nice for you, Sister.” Nihil’s accent and the curiously odd intones of ‘Sister’ made her cheeks tighten with the urge to giggle, and the tight smile made Nihil’s lip lift even further.. “Do I not look nice for you? I try so hard, you know this.” He pouts, the pop of his lower lip making her smile spread further. Damn fool, she thought to herself. Was she speaking about herself, or Papa? She could parcel through these thoughts later in the obscured dark of the tour bus. 

“You do.” Sister said in a low mumble. The way her stomach buzzed was unfamiliar, the compressed feeling around her lungs making it hard to conceive of any thought besides how Nihil smiled at her, the way his hand fit along her hip and how her hand had never felt so drawn to touch someone. His skin was so warm, a sunkissed tan that made her buzz with something unknown. Or maybe she had always known. 

He pulled away, and she fought the urge to jump towards his arms again and pull him to her. No, she wouldn’t stoop to begging. He turned to the mirror, patting the powder into his lips. “Good! The crowd will love it, always so attentive. The doors are open after performances, as always.” His eyes gleamed, the devilish glow of his one white eye gleaming in the muted warmness of this damnedly hot room. Could it compare to the warmth in Sister Imperator’s chest? 

The fuzziness she had felt moments earlier was extinguished in that single sentence, burned by the way she had to stop herself from reaching forward and throttling him right then and there. How stupid could a man be? She was stunned every single day by the utter idiocy of men, going from not knowing how to do laundry all the way to this. She let her face go blank, what other course of action was there? If she followed her emotions, Papa Nihil would be buried in a shallow grave behind this very club. To hold her in his hands, and then casually drop that he wanted to get his dick wet? 

Satan, maybe she should have listened to her mother and just become a lesbian in Boston instead. 

Sister straightened her posture. “Of course they’re always open.” she said coldly. Her hands folded in front of her. They’re always fucking open. 

His eyes look towards her, the grin still on his face but his eyes speak of something she can’t pin. She turns around, pushing through the throng of bodies with the force needed. Nihil has the right to his body, just as she does to her own. She could find any man in this glorified venue, pull them into an alcove and possibly cum. There’s no guarantee of that, she thought, fighting back the mocking laugh that wanted to tumble out of her mouth. 

But she won’t. She won’t do that. 

_____________________

The crowd was loud, though the indescribable energy that had pulsed in the room minutes earlier had fallen as the show had come to a close. Sister Imperator looked from the wings, Nihil was glorious. Sweat dripped from his chin, his eye gleaming in the stage lights as he pranced along the edge of the stage. His shirt was unbuttoned, the ringlets of hair soaked under the fabric. His boots were clinking against the floor, the pointed tips tapping in a calculated rhythm. Women were lined along the edge, their hair curled and their lashes stark against pastel blues and blush pinks. Pink blush against dark skin, similar beads of sweat lining their cleavage that was oh so pointedly pushed forward. All for Nihil. And she knew that he knew, regardless of if he had made the asinine comments earlier. 

She turned, walking along the dark corners. Stage hands were leisurely walking, some carrying side lights and some carrying cords, wrapped in loops and gingerly carried to storage closets nearby. She needed a cigarette before he came back there, shucking his coat off and waiting for women to fall to their knees before him, to curl up in his arms. 

She felt the familiar burn in her stomach of anger, of envy. Where the hell did she put her handbag again? She slid along the walls, feeling her way through the dark as her boots clicked along the waxed floor. The burn of eyes along her legs made her grimace, one more nuisance to deal with. Being honest with herself, all she wanted right now was to be curled up in her blankets back at the hotel, pleasantly sated and sweaty, held in Nihil’s arms and dozing in the glow of the television set. But no, she had to see him go back to his room with one, if not several , women running their hands along his thin body. 

She needed a cigarette.

The space opened, the stairs leading back to the green room intersection between a larger side door. She sighed, the flow of air leveling out in the space, away from sweaty rugged men. Reaching for the door, she felt the sweat at the nape of her neck go blessedly cold. A break was what she needed, it would be another hour or so before Sister had the opportunity to be completely alone with a nice glass of champagne. Damn it all, she’d pay for the room service her fucking self. The last thing she wanted after a night like this was the Clergy treasurer waking her up in the night wondering why they’d been notified by the hotel of another ‘useless’ purchase. 

Imperator leaned against the wall, the high collar of her patterned dress constricting the skin around her neck. She was lucky she had done her hair so high, the beehive allowing her to feel the cold air on her skin as best as she could. As best as she could, the thought mocked her. Out of all the times Nihil had fucked her into the bed, it had been her controlling his moves. Grabbing him by the hair and moans punching out from his throat, riding him until he cried from the sheer ecstasy of the orgasms rung from his overextended body, sucking him down in the shitty tour bus bunks when the ghouls had finally taken the message and left. And here he was, leering over the edge of the stage like he called the shots. 

Sister Imperator knew he couldn’t take initiative if it offered itself up with its legs spread. Why the hell would he start now, she lamented. 

The door to her left opened, the conversation high and energetic. As the door opened, she met the gaze of three women. Their conversation halted, noticing the woman on their right. She doesn’t look at their clothes, what point does it serve? They’re back here now and have come for a reason. At one point, she had made a point to memorize what they wore. How their belts cinched their waists, how their breasts spilled softly from their blouses in an appealing display of warmth. Not that she stewed on it, she would just have a bartender conveniently card them, or they would just so happen to lose their tickets. 

Her eyes meet with the first woman. She smiles, a warm if not curious smile. “Hey, sorry to bother, but could you point us in the direction of the dressing rooms?” Her smile is toothy, Imperator files this knowledge away. 

Sister crosses her arms, steeling her features into a cold impasse. “No, they don’t have one.” Her voice is oppressive. 

The other woman with a pale nude lip, stark against the darkness of her skin and softness of her cheeks blinks and screws her face in skepticism. The confusion is clear on her face. Here’s the thing about Sister Imperator: she doesn’t give two shits about her confusion. Sister is tired, her face baking under the powder she applied earlier that day, her feet burning from her platformed boots.

She’s not quite inclined to point these women towards Nihil and exclaim, “Here he is! His cock is always ready! Would you like condoms, or would you prefer to go raw? Both are enjoyable, I surely would know!” 

At this point in the night, she’s far more inclined to being difficult. 

“They don’t have a dressing room?” The first lady intones, her head tilting as she pouts in confusion. 

“Precisely.” Sister says dryly, her eyes narrowing. Her arms, still crossed tightly, allow her to tap her fingers along her arm in impatience. The woman laughs, smiling at Sister. She clearly hasn’t caught on that Sister Imperator would rather be anywhere but here, especially in front of these other women. 

“So does Papa just get changed in the hallways? That’d be a gas.” She giggles, leaning against the propped door. The other two women ignore her, exchanging a look that spelled their confusion more clearly than if they had spoken aloud. 

Sister scoffs sarcastically, her lips lifting in sardonic aggression. “Yes, it surely would be.” The last thing she wanted was a conversation, just let her get her fucking cigarettes, go home and have a good cry away from where anyone could see her. 

The woman smiles at her once more, looking forward and then turning her head back. “Do you know where he might actually be? We wanted to see him before we ditched here.”

Imperator can feel her smile tighten, shaking her head. Get the hint, lady, good fucking Lord. “He ditched earlier. You just missed him.” Her fingers still rap against her arm, the flickering lightbulb above making one of the other woman’s eye begin twitching. The toothy woman’s face falls, her smile twisting into a pout. 

“Bummer.” She sighs, turning back to retreat back through the door. The third woman, her eyes narrowed, lets her eyes run over Sister’s appearance. She scoffs in dismissal, turning back. But before Sister can sigh in relief, her night continues its downward spiral into her own foray into the question of her own sanity. 

The space is swallowed by the dark leather and painted face of Nihil himself, panting heavily. Though the sweat has been patted away from his face, his neck is red with exertion. Of fucking course. His eyes turned to her, and then to the three women currently staring at him with varying degrees of joy. 

“Oh, hello!” Nihil chimes, his eyes flicking to Sister and then the women once more. “I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting, no?” The women smile at him, the one in the front walking forward and daringly placing a hand on his arm. 

“We were in the crowd, Papa. You were unreal!” She smiles at him, her toothy grin making his own smile widen. Sister watches as the other two women walk closer, closely inspecting his wide white eye that shined intriguingly off in the shaky light of the bulb above them. 

“Your eye is so beautiful, how do you get it like that?” The woman’s nude lips are wide, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that allowed her to push her tits further together. Sister frowned, her stomach roiling with annoyance. Good grief, just get it over with. Have him grab you by the hips and fuck you in his hotel room, leave the next morning and giggle about it with your girlfriends. 

“A gift, bella.” Nihil purred, his hand rising to cup the second woman’s face. Her eyes widen, her cheeks filling out with a flush as he giggles at her. As much as Sister wants to move, she can’t stop. She hadn’t been wooed, as much as she was loath to admit it. Always the one to walk forward first, she had led Nihil along like a puppy on a leash. Of course she loved it, admired how much he turned to her. Either for kindness or guidance, for a fuck on the road late at night, she remained. But had he ever cornered her backstage and let him lick the sweat from her neck without her gripping him by the lapel? 

“A gift? Not meaning to bug out or anything, but the speech you gave on stage was unreal. We’d love to hear more.” Ah, the usual segue. Begging for guidance on the Old One’s beliefs and then fucking at his metaphorical altar. She didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t stand to listen. It was one thing to see it at the hotel last month, another to hear him imply it earlier, but she couldn’t take the scene in front of her. 

Sister turned, pushing gently past the woman at his side and walking past the gaggle. She walks briskly down the way. 

“Mi dispiace belle signore , but I am unfortunately on a tight schedule. Perhaps you could ask one of the ghouls? I’m sure they would be more than happy to speak to such pretty fanciulle.” She can hear the groans of the other women, and the click of their heels as they walk away. The urge to pause and look is strong, but who knows why he did it? Nihil could have already got his rocks off with someone on the way, or the chance of another rendezvous already scheduled. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice, shame on her. She’s already gotten through a third time, and a fourth would just be pathetic. 

She turns the corner to the dressing room, thankfully clear. The packing up tended to go quicker than setting up, so hopefully things were going to plan. Sister still needed to check in, but first she wanted a damn cigarette. She walks across the room, leaning against the couch and looking behind where she had kept it. A growl released from her throat, couldn’t she have anything go right tonight? She wouldn’t cry. She knew better than that. But the tightness in her throat was beginning to hurt, the anger from earlier receding. And the sickly green feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, mocking and ugly. 

A knock behind her, soft and gentle. She didn’t turn, knowing the click of his boot heels as familiar as her childhood home doorbell. 

“Tesoro?” A soft voice calls into the room, loud in the now silent room. Warm earlier with the countless bodies, the lack makes her skin cold under the long draped sleeves of her mini dress. Even adverse to the company of others, she wishes that someone was here to pillow the moment with a stranger's presence. 

“There’s no need to speak so quietly, Papa. We’re the only two here.” Sister says plainly, pushing the emotion out of her voice. All of this because of jealousy towards some fan? Out of all the shows she could have gotten upset over, this is the one? How demeaning. 

“I am aware we’re alone. I see you after all my shows, yes?” She doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hands come to her hips behind her. Imperator stills, the hot sticky feeling in her stomach still there. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Out of all the times she had seen the way he acted, why is now the time she chose to turn her back? 

“Not all of them.” The accusation hangs in the air, Nihil’s hands tight on her hips through the silk of the dress. The heat of his palm almost scalds her, he burns as hot as the sun, a constant inferno that scorches her when she touches him. It burrows into her flesh, finding nirvana in the way he fits inside her. The thought is swiftly cut off as he sighs into her ear, the shell warming with the outtake of breath. She doesn’t move. 

“Si, not all of them. Concerts can be stressful, after parties and such. But do I not come back to your bed?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Imperator yanked herself out of his grip. She walks across the room, looking into the dressers of the cabinet for her purse. She could just get her purse and walk out, back to the hotel. As soon as this Ghost Project was over, she could go back to her comfortable office and deal with this from the back burner. No more Nihil, no more bastard children, no more goddamned groupies. 

“Indeed you do.” The words grind out of her mouth like a knife on stone, slamming the drawer closed and straightening up from where she had been crouched down. The heels click against the floor quickly, and she gasps once she feels the warmth of his torso pushed against hers, her back pushed against the dresser quickly. She can feel the ledge of the small desk pushed against the small of her back. Sister looks up towards him, the placid look on her face crumbling into something sour, and surly, and she has to stop herself from pushing him away and leaving without her purse. 

The words had never been said aloud by her. Late nights where she imagined Nihil fucking her with abandon, taking her from behind and treating her like one of the sweet little things that came to pray at his altar. It lingered in the atmosphere until she saw a scene like earlier, like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter until the middle burned hot from heat. White hot heat settled in between the space between her and Nihil, in the impasse of their stares. Always looking, across a room or when she kissed the overstimulated tears from below his eyes in the night. 

There is understanding finally in his eyes. The crystal clear realization that maybe his actions did matter, through the smoke and haze of the lights above him as he sang and crooned to women who had never even conceptualized an existence beyond a white picket fence. Maybe he had finally crossed the line that had always been there. 

(Maybe, everything has always been filled with maybes between the two of them). 

“ Innamorata… Maybe I have not been so attentive.” He says softly, his gaze never wavers. That infernal eye never moves from its impassive gaze. His hands grip her waist, and she glares. She feels it like a warm hand against her throat, and she banishes the thought. 

“Attentive? There are things you want… an inexperienced fuck in a cheap hotel room with a fan that doesn’t even know where her clit is. By all means, go for it.” She spits out, the words scraping out of her throat by the fine edge of a knife: the same knife has plunged into her back countless times during this tour. Pardoned by their own lord, sanctified in blood and sin, and here they were. 

“Oh? You think I don’t smell it, tesoro? It’s dripping off of you.” His hand slides from her hip to her cunt, a gasp ripping itself from her throat as he cups it softly through her dress. She knows him, knows the way his eye glows, the way his cock is pressed against her leg and how it throbs hot, hard, natural. Oh, and it feels good. Feels, she finds, even better as he rubs the palm of his hand against it. 

“Dripping off of you, dripping out of you? I can think of many things I want to fill you with.” Nihil chisels a space into the emptiness between them, rasping out a groan into her neck as the silk of her dress catches on slick between her legs. She should push him away, but it feels too good to have him take the lead. It’s burning, hotter than the fires of hell they pledge to have when they leave this mortal plane. When it all burns down, it is always captivating and aposematic.

Through the back and forth of his hand Imperator can feel him lean forward, his mouth latching onto the soft molten skin of her neck. He lifts his other hand not busied with the soft skin below, grabbing the burning flesh of her breast. She has to stop this, take control. She isn’t a woman begging to be let backstage, flashing her tits at the bouncer and hoping that he’ll press his face between her legs. His mouth is an ember compared to the blaze in his eyes, lavascapes in the stark whiteness of blue and white. She could burn, she realized, but she leans into the hand pressing into her softest places. 

Papa’s mouth is soft against the dewy skin of Sister’s neck, the paint so delicately applied earlier is no doubt a parting gift against the paleness of her skin. His breath ghosts against her skin, pulling away. And she pouts at the loss, ichor rushing through her veins. She never quite understood the meaning of hunger until she met Nihil, a hunger for a man and not power. He rips open a vacuum inside of her, a festering hole that is utterly insatiable. A constant ache that drives her delirious with the urge to consume him with her gaping maw. Rapacious charm, never full. 

“How long have you wanted this? For me to take you like a slut?” The words drag over his tongue, and she’s alarmed by the moan pushing its way from her mouth. No, this has never happened. A step closer, her blood burns. The green feeling in her stomach has uprooted itself, destroyed in the endless warmth of his gaze. From where it had been clotted in her throat, for months upon months on tour, and it’s gone. 

He smiles, leaning down and finally taking her mouth in his. His lips are firm, pressing against hers with a deliberate force that she hasn’t experienced. Is this what these women have been packing at the door for? They had surely kissed, but it was her biting and forcing her way into the soft cavern of his mouth. But at this moment, his mouth doesn’t rest. She presses against him, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. Her hands shake around his neck, the pulsing of wetness and warmth between her legs dizzying. It jars her, head gummy and full of sin. These women wanted this. 

Their mouths press together, Nihil’s tongue pushing against hers in a sloppy push and pull of slickness. He tastes like sin, cigarettes and the heady tang of peppermint gum. He’s rough, a palpable hunger that pulls the last threads of jealousy from her mind. Papa pulls away, his eyes sharper than Sister had ever seen them. A yawning abyss of knowledge, and then she remembers. Women came to him for a reason, an unknown that would snap at the tips of their fingers if they got too close. And Nihil smiles, his hips pushing against hers and a sigh falling past his parted lips. It’s messy, adrenaline from onstage clearly pulsing through the fog of his mind. 

“Do I interest you? Is that why you haven’t set me aside?” His voice is harsh, his eyes lidded and heavy. 

“I could ask the same.” Her head is a slurry of pleasure, her clit throbbing where it meets the harsh bulge of his cock and the back and forth of silk against her body. It’s messy, less defined than anything she had ever allowed to happen. The backstage fumblings of curious women and- 

“Shush.” He makes a noise, condescending and somehow sweet like a cocktail at the dingy bars they had performed at. It punches into her, makes her gasp. Her hips stutter, she’s never seen a sight more damning. If she had been more stupid, she could imagine herself in a crowd. Peering up at him, a smile tugging at her lips and watching him thrust against the mic stand. And by Satan, she realizes it. The brutality of it makes her crush her lips against his, tongue sliding against the wetness of his own slippery muscle. There is embarrassment of course, and there is shame. But she wants it, the horrible emptiness inside of her that wants to let him treat her like a slut. A groupie begging on her knees, her back, for his tongue and cock to complete her. 

His hands return to her hips, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. The embers spar, blazing, when he deepens the kiss and presses the bulge of his cock into her pussy. She shivers, a whole body chill that has her breaking the kiss and moaning into the air. “Please.” It’s a plea, a whimper that she has never once spoken aloud to Nihil. And the way he chuckles, biting her lip with ravenous hunger that reminds her of the blood that courses through his veins, has her pushing back against him. She can’t resist, she wouldn’t even try. 

“Oh, please?” His voice sings, a derisive coo that makes her keen. He pulls back, his hands lifting her dress to reveal the pale pink briefs beneath. Nihil crouches, kneeling before her and running his hands over her soft thighs. A sigh, and a kiss pressed against the pliable porcelain before him. He had spent hours before, his head pressed between her thighs while she gripped his hair in a domineering grip as she took her pleasure from him. But now simply gripped the edges of the table, her wide eyes meeting his as he grazes his knuckles against the soft skin. Nihil sighs, shaking his head. 

“Have you thought about my head between their legs, tesoro?” The question is clipped, a grin on his face as he lets his palm glide up and down her legs. A hesitant nod, and her legs quake as Papa Nihil presses a kiss to her inner thigh. He lathes his tongue over the small scar at the influx of her thigh. Another whimper pours out as he peppers kisses against her, and she can’t tear her eyes away from his cocky grin. She should hate this, should be pulling him away and reprimanding him for taking control. But with the way he grips her thighs and the way she drips onto the table, she knows she loves this. Sister mewls as Nihil inches further, his eyes meeting her own. 

“I will take my pleasure from you the same as I do from them.” He murmurs, his mouth latching onto her skin. Her hands grip into the desk tightly, keening as he meets her gaze. “A powerful woman, la mia dea. But a slut all the same, begging for my cock.” He growls, and she moans as he presses the flat arch of his painted nose against her clit, his tongue tracing circles into the slickness of her pussy. 

Moans fill the silence of the room, muffled groaning and the slick movement of his mouth against her creating a back and forth cacophony of sin. Nihil’s hands against her thighs continue their back and forth as he takes his fill, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Sister whines as the sucking against her clit intensifies, his tongue swiping against her entrance. The hand against her leg moves, a finger dropping and dipping lightly at her dripping cunt, lightly swirling around the slickness collecting there. She bites her lip, catching the moan that bubbles out of her throat at the way he slurps at her cunt. 

His eyes shoot open, meeting her own with his mismatched gaze. He pulls back, his mouth unlatching from her pulsing clit while his fingers continue toying with her. “Don’t keep your noises from me, I want to hear.” Papa’s finger slides inside, and Sister chokes out a gasp. “Do you think these women hold back their pleasure? Have you not pulled similar noises from me while you choke down my cock, tesoro? ” She should be angry, she thinks to herself, but she can hardly think after he pushes two fingers into her utterly drenched entrance. He grazes a knuckle against a spot inside her, a high moan punching out of her throat as her walls flutter around him. 

“Nihil, I-” Sister Imperator gasps, her lips swollen and her lipstick rubbed off even earlier than now. He pulls his fingers away, and she moans in complaint. His eyes blaze with ire, his frown making her stomach clench in distraught anticipation. He rubs his fingers over her entrance, toying with the slick collected there. 

Nihil shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit. “That is not my name. What am I called?” She whines, thinking back to the times they’ve fucked. It had been either Nihil, slut, or even my love. Never had it been- 

“Papa.” She whispers, his lips raising in appreciation. To everyone else, it’s Papa. His fingers slide back inside, the curls of his breath over her soaked pussy making her eyes roll back. Her hair knocking against the wall was probably a mess, her once perfect beehive now more of a honeycomb. While his tongue sucks against her raised clit, his fingers continue to coax burning pleasure that made her thighs shake. She can feel her lips are bitten raw, her knees pressed against her chest and exposing herself to him entirely. She should blush, she’s sure everyone else does, but his huffs and moans of pleasure persuade her to moan. 

She whimpers, and all thoughts are stuck in the burning mess in her head, rendered out into ashes and into cries for Papa, for more. It’s all a puddle of bliss, including her. His fingers brush against a spot inside that makes her cry out, a wail that she’s sure can be heard outside of the room. The thought is knocked out of her head as the pads of his fingers bump into it again, coupled with Papa’s tongue swiping against her bud. Oh, how she needed this, for him to just show that he knew how to please. 

She feels his lips curl against her clit and a muffled chuckle that makes her gasp, Coy, sweet, the type of mocking grin that he shot the crowd at the end of his show. He pulls back, fingers pistoning against her fluttering pussy, “Are you going to cum already, cara ? I thought you were a seasoned slut, opening your legs for any man with an ounce of talent?” He chuckles darkly, timbre drenched in sex and promise. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing in a defiant glare that dissolves as he begins to softly lap at her clit. Sister wants to scoff, to roll her eyes but the breadth of his shoulders spreading her legs wide and the ministrations on her cunt cut the words on her tongue short. 

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping softly and moaning against it as he closes his eyes. The makeup around his mouth is smeared, his lips shining with her slick and his spit. His mouth is molten, and she can feel her weeping hole clench around his fingers. It’s hot, the high collar of her dress collecting sweat. It’s messy, the opposite of the nakedness she was used to with him. Debauched, wanton, desperate for him. The desperation is tangible.

“Show me how much you want my cock.” He growls into her cunt, nuzzling his cheek into her thigh as his fingers increase their speed. Imperator moans, her thighs shaking as she feels her climax approach much more quickly than usual. At the speed of his fingers, she can feel the delicious burn of pleasure that nears so deliciously into pain, a wire pulled taut and begging to be released. She arches, canting her hips greedily into his mouth. If he weren't so intent on making her cum, she’s sure he would be grinning like the damn dirty tease he is. 

A particular curl of his fingers sends her over the edge, his tongue laving over her clit and his fingers fucking dangerously harshly against the sweet spot inside of her that has her choking out a moan. She can feel the rings of cum wetting her thighs, the spit that coats her lower half. She can’t help but whimper when she crests the wave, an embarrassing litany of pleads for her Papa, a melted husk of a woman drunk on the high of her orgasm. 

Sister can feel the way he presses kisses into her thighs, the way his fingers have been pulled out of her and she cries at the need for him inside of her. Nothing where she rides him for control, where he begs and whimpers for her to let him cum. She lets her eyes fall open, a quavering moan from her mouth whenever she witnesses him suck her cum from his fingers. His eyes blaze as he stands above her, his mouth stretched wide into a grin that makes her heart swell.

Sister’s eyes flick down, where his bulge pushes against the black leather of his bellbottoms. Her hands shoot forward and reach for the laces, if not a bit clumsily trying to pick apart the laces. She knows he aches for it, and can feel him twitching against the confines of his trousers. His hand drops down, and Papa smiles down at her with a fond, if not condescending, smirk. 

Her hands pull the laces apart, a joined moan between the two of them as his swollen cock pops out. The head of his cock is red, smeared with sticky spend at the tip that aids her as she begins to pump him leisurely. He sighs, a hand gathering in her hair as she looks up at him. “You do such a good job pleasing Papa, you know?” She nods quickly, her hand not slowing. Just as she finds a rhythm, his hands have shot out to stop her. The hardness of his cock in her hand makes the emptiness inside her known, aching even. He steps between her legs, craning her head upward towards him. 

“Will you let Papa fuck you?” He whispers, stepping forward to rub his cock against her soaked folds. A whine forces its way from her throat. God, she just wants him, any way at any time. To say she’s been denying it would be an understatement. She needed him, wanted him near her always. It’s easy to worship him, she thinks to herself through the delirious haze of his weight against her cunt. Easy to kiss offerings into his skin, sing a hymn of praise into the dips of his neck.

“Yes, Papa.” A whisper, heavy and breathless. The way she addresses him makes him moan helplessly, and there’s nowhere else to burn eternally than with one another. Leaning closer, the head of his cock nudges inside her, popping in with such ease that it makes the both of them pause in the sheer buzz of skin on skin. Sister leans back, allowing herself to moan as she feels the heavy weight of him inside her. Nihil chokes on his gasp, pushing slowly inside of her. The head of his dick pushing against something soft in her cunt that makes her clench around him with a whimper. 

The cloying feeling of him on top of her, inside her, makes her keen. Why had she fought this for so long, for the treatment he gave other women? The very feeling of him inside her is dizzying, the way he hovers above her with a self satisfied smile makes her match it. The fuzzy feeling in her stomach returns, her heart lifting from the well it had drifted to earlier. Control was something she had vied for, and couldn't let go. The ebb and sway of how he would let her control him, and this is where he got his kicks. Maybe now he could find his respite within her as well. 

Nihil moans, rolling his hips into hers in a way that makes her eyes roll back. The thrusts are slow, a back and forth that knocks the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. Each time he retreats he comes back home, the tip of his cock kissing the place inside of her that makes her legs lock around his waist tightly. Strings of pleasure lick up her spine, her nipples hard underneath the fabric of her dress. She can smell the heady smell of sex in the air, the wetness between the two of them slick in the cool air of the dressing room. Maybe everyone would hear, hear how he fucked her like a woman, like any woman out there in the crowd. 

His hair is soft beneath her hands, moussed from the sweat of the stage and his lingering adrenaline and the many times she had already gripped it in the space between the two of them. 

“So good for me, you take me so well Sister,” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips in a salacious lick against bitten lips. He tips his head forward as Sister clenches around him, his thrusts grinding his cock into her pussy in a way that makes white hot pleasure tickle her spine. She combs over his face, his perfectly debauched makeup sliding down the smoothness of his skin. A thought passes about what he may look like when he’s older, how the makeup will pool in a similar way perhaps. 

As she clenches around him his dick twitches in agreement, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he continues to fuck her. A hazardous grin spreads across his smeared lips when he catches her gaze, his eyes sweeping over her bent form as he continues to fuck her, spread out and stretched over his thick cock. Anyone can hear her, she realizes, can hear how badly she wants her Papa to fill her cunt, to make her cum, how good he is at making women achieve hedonistic pleasure. A star frontman, an experienced lover. 

He grins, and she can feel his cock brush against a soft spot inside of her that makes her positively wail. His hand drops from where it’s clenched around her thigh, thumb swiping over her clit and she groans, needy and breathless. Sister’s hips work with his own, Nihil’s hips knocking against the silky walls of her cunt. His head brushes deep, her back arching in pleasure that makes her quiver in a profoundly intense ache. As his hand works over her throbbing clit and his hips batter against the meat of her ass, Nihil leans over. A kiss pressed to her neck, a stream of moans into her ear dredged up from a place of love and desperation. 

“Will you cum for me?” A whisper into her ear, a fervent nod answered back. Her heart flutters, a taut softness as she feels her toes curl. It pinches taut as he angles his hips, tendrils of pleasure as he pushes his cock further in. In a moment like this, she couldn’t give a damn about a groupie, some faithless devotee. The devotion is right here and right now, between the one at the altar and the abnormality present. 

“Please. I want to be your whore,” Sister whispers, haze filling the curtain of her gaze as she feels the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher. Papa Nihil feels similarly, she knows this, the desperate high moans against her neck as he visibly fights the urge to call out for her like normal. 

A vicious swipe against her clit sends her over, liquid bliss spuming deep within her and setting her off. The rhythmic clenching of her softness around his cock makes him gasp, his breath choked in her throat as he cums deep inside her. She sighs, eyes slipping closed as he sighed against her neck. Her hands rose to his back, slow careful swipes of her hands on his shirt as he heaved for air. 

The air was warm, and she could feel their shared spend dripping down from her hole onto the floor. The sickly green feeling in her stomach was gone, filled with the deliciously delightful feeling of Nihil in her arms, his hands warm against her waist. When he quiets by the end of her gentle petting, the mushy misty eyed look in her eyes won’t leave. An odd juxtaposition for a woman who could bring Nihil down to size in a matter of moments. 

“You don’t suppose I could have a cigarette after this?” She mumbled, smiling softly as she heard a muffled laugh against her neck. Pulling back, they looked at one another. His makeup was ruined, as was hers most likely. Though they still had the drive back to the hotel to fare with, nothing delighted her more than knowing she could curl up in bed delightfully moisturized and nestled against Nihil. And looking into his eyes, she knew he was just as enchanted at the ending of their night together. His hand drifted to her cheek, his eyes soft in a way that made her stomach flip. 

“Never again, Genevieve. I promise.” And she knew he wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He whispered, a delicate kiss pressed against the tip of her nose. His hand was warm, and she leaned into the soft embrace of it against her dreadfully sweaty cheek. Although her heart jumped at her given name, the irony of it in her current religion a mockery to her sensibilities, Sister sighed.

The sickly feeling of envy an ever looming fear now, she knew she could push through. Though he had two children now, the fear of a third, even a fourth was gone. He was hers, and she was his, even through the possibility of another Prime Mover. Satan forbid a groupie try to coax their way into his pants in the future. 

The thought passed with a drop of disdain in her eyes, and a smile making its way onto her kiss swollen lips. All these months of sweat soaked nights on a bumpy bus, a hand held out in a busy afterparty, the soft breath against her neck as she held him close. A hand held in another hand with care, with no fear to be found. 

“Of course. Never again.” 

[that-one-depressed-author]

I can’t really believe that I’m posting this at…

*checks time*

1:47 AM!

But, I’m tired of being silent and now have the motivation and energy to come forward!

I’m here to share my experience with Melody (yanderelmk)!

Let it be known that I could not write, draw, or even look at myself in the mirror after this happened for a good month!

Hello, everyone! Those of you from the Yandere!LMK Discord Server may remember me as Goat! In this post, I will be discussing my experience with the server and its owner, Melody. I want to go ahead and tell you all to not bother Melody or her blog, instead, go straight for the block button. This post is just meant to be a cautionary tale and hopefully provide insight and validation to those she is near or has hurt.

Here's a bit of context to the events leading up to my ban from Melody’s server. I had been stalking Melody’s blog for a little bit before I joined the server, and when I saw the Shauna situation, I felt like I needed to respond. I also have extreme bipolar disorder and ADHD, and even I didn't respond the way Shauna did. So, after making an anon emoji combination for Melody’s blog, I joined the server.

When I joined, I was a social anxiety-ridden mess, but I was welcomed with open arms. My own trauma from past friend groups clouded the already well-hidden red flags. Looking back, I noticed some things.

I noticed that when I first joined the server, everything I sent (drawings, writings, character-inspired makeup, etc.) was showered with love and praise. But the longer I was there, it slowed to a stop. Meanwhile, everyone who was close to Melody and in her inner circle got most of the attention and praise. I may be petty, but I am not jealous.

I noticed that Melody did little to talk about people causing problems and simply watched from the side. When someone was saying that their character would unalive mine because I shipped mine with the same character, Melody said nothing to stop it in the channel. But, later during a private call, she admitted she was watching it happen and didn't know whether or not to step in. As the server owner, she and her moderators should try and keep the peace when she sees something wrong.

And finally, I noticed that Melody had a bad habit of bringing up things that happened somewhere else where they didn't need to be brought up. Which leads me to my next topic: the events leading up to and the reason for my ban.

A little while before my ban, someone (I don’t remember who) had sent some Twitter fan art of the LMK characters as FNAF animatronics. And we all reacted positively, a few of us including myself talking about making it an AU.

So, Melody hosted a role play. I had used one of my OCs for this little role play, mainly her human design. We went for a few hours and when we had to stop, it was six in the morning.

Now, I had not slept for the past two days and was ready to pass out on my couch after a few after-role-play messages. I believe we had started talking about what our OCs would be like in a FNAF!AU and I had brought up one of my ocs whom I made with a group of friends and was the embodiment of lust.

Someone had mentioned and compared my OC to Asmodeus, the biblical king of lust. In my delirious, sleep-deprived state, I had incorrectly worded my message. I had said that I would say Asmodeus was a former sin of lust and my OC was the current one.

This was not what I had meant, I had meant using the name Asmodeus as a reference, not the actual biblical figure. And even then, I would have shortened it to make it even more of a reference. (ex: Ozzie, Azzy, Moudes, etc.) But, for some unknown reason to me, Melody had an issue with this.

She started an argument with me about how Asmodeus was from Christian religion and that it was offensive to Buddhism or something. I’m gonna be honest, the details are a bit fuzzy. In an effort to make me look like the bad guy, she brought up another set of OCs me and my friend group had made that were based around the Ten Commandments. (Also, I didn’t even use the biblical Ten Commandments because those are paragraphs, I used the ones from the Seven Deadly Sins anime!) These OCs were mentioned in that same private call outside the server!

Melody, being more awake than me, sent several messages in quick succession, not allowing me to get a word in or get my thoughts together. And as always, the person who could get more of a word in wins. Me, being half awake and ready to fall asleep, told Melody I was going to bed and would continue to talk about this later because I was tired and didn’t feel like arguing with her.

I woke up at around five in the afternoon and decided to go into the server and apologize for how I acted and let Melody know I was ready to talk. Only to find the server missing from the list.

Confused, I went to check Melody’s Tumblr blog to see if something happened or if I was banned by mistake. Instead, I found that Melody had made a post about banning me over a picrew I had made.

I will admit, the picrew was BDSM themed and it did include Nezha. But, I was not the first person to send it nor was I the only one who participated. Melody herself participated with one of her OC and Macaque. I will also admit that I forgot to spoil the picrew I made due to being tired.

However, I am not here to get into the ‘NeZhA iS tWeLvE’ debate. I'm here to share what I experienced with Melody and her server.

Here's what could've been done instead of straight-up banning me: talking to me about the image and asking me to spoil or delete it! I was given no warning of my ban, only waking up to it and seeing the post about it! She had made no effort to message me or inform me!

Alright, now that you have all of the info and my side of the story, time for a little analysis. I am a major psychology lover due to my own mental problems and I adore learning about the human mind.

Melody’s two nicknames in her server are ‘Queen’ and ‘Mother’. She is not either of these things.

A queen looks after her subjects, a mother looks after her children. Melody, on the surface, appears to look after the people in her server. But as someone who's seen beneath that surface and experienced people like this long before I met her, she is anything but.

Melody invites people into her server, welcomes them, and smothers them with affection. Then, when they aren't so new anymore, she winds to a stop and focuses on the people in her inner circle.

Melody watches over above, looking at everything and everyone in her server with the eye of a hawk. Waiting and biding her time for them to give her a reason.

Then, when she gains that person’s trust, makes them let down their walls around her, she sees them do something she doesn't like, and she finally has her reason. She strikes.

She removes them from the safe environment she builds around them and feeds them to the wolves. She takes mentally unwell people and puts them in an unsafe environment where they can be harmed.

She wounds them so they aren't thinking straight and baits them to lash out with posts on her Tumblr blog so she can paint herself as the victim. And once they do lash out, she links the places where people can attack them in the form of a ‘call-out’.

Have you noticed the fact that everyone Melody bans and posts about, deletes their blog? Now, I am not excusing these people's actions. But, no one should be put in an unsafe environment where they can be harassed and threatened.

In fact, I’m sure I would’ve been in a similar situation had I not gotten a hold of a close friend of mine. She comforted me, calmed me down, and distracted me from Melody. Her support and love allowed me to be the bigger person and not respond, blocking Melody and removing the problem.

But, I’m stubborn and tired of being the bigger person.

Melody is a manipulator and an abuser.

Let my story be a cautionary tale on these kinds of people. And, don’t harass Melody over this. If you do, you’re no better than her. Instead, go straight for the block button.

[bedrock-to-buildheight]

you got good ass takes on minos and sisyphus hows The Lady and the Tiger by tmbg as a those two guys type of song ? I need peer review on my song associations lol. also do you have any songs you associate with any ultrakill characters ?

It's a very interesting and spicy song for those two, cause in this song, Minos' opinions is represented by the tiger, the more dangerous choice. I like it!

As for my songs for the blorbos, OH BOI YOU UNLOCKED AN UNSKIPPABLE CUTSCENE

Below is a bunch of songs and who they're for. Some even has explanation

Gabriel

This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller - damn near a gabv1el anthem. A homoerotic AND homicidal lovesong. Literally the third line is 'I'm an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood'

Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos - Gabriel to the Council

Kaiserion by Ghost - same vibe as above, with more anti-christianity vibes

Bitter Water by The Old Hellos - Minos/Gabe, in an anticipatory grief, doomed yaoi kind of way

V1

Would That I by Hozier - highly specific Gabv1el with Minos/Gabe former relationship

Stars from Les Mis (Phillip Quast version)

V2

The Plague by the mountain goats - imo V1 was never made to give much of a shit aboyt humans. It's almost vindictively happy at seeing humanity's hubris catching up to them at last

The Toy Soldier's Song by The Mechanisms (Gunpowder Tim vs The Moon Kaiser) - loyalty is a lot to ask of a weapon, the song

Want You Gone from Portal 2 and Still Alive from Portal

Cry for Judas by the mountain goats - 'But I am just a broken machine, and I do things that I don't really mean'

A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers - Gabriel/V2. The story of guard dogs who had bad owners

Minos

Sisyphus

Cirice by Ghost - Minos/Gabe that started out as Minos manipulating Gabe into siding with him a la Drowning Man (fic)

The Music of The Night from The Phantom of The Opera - slow, powerful and seductive. If charisma itself is a song

Ferryman by Shayfer James - despite the name, this is a Minos song. There's a certain indifference to shitty lovers and the insignificance of individual humans that fits him well

Run to You by Pentatonix - Minos/Sisyphus post-Prime. The specific amv scene I have in mind is 'Minos finds him bleeding out after fighting V1 and they share a few moments. Sisyphus realizes that maybe, he did regret one thing'

For the Departed by Shayfer James- Minos/Sisyphus, depicting their final moments before Gabriel arrives in Greed

Villainous Thing by Shayfer James - Sisyphus to Gabriel. An understanding between people who care about Doing Right, but hold too much anger to take the respectable route. Plus a bit of flirting <3

Ferryman

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - Ferrygabe resentment song <33 They fucking hate what he made them into

Obsessed With You by The Orion Experience - self explanatory

Others

Body by Mother Mother - self explanatory 2. That one piece of unadded ferryman lore hakita dropped is the gift that keeps on giving

Cupid by Fifty Fifty - lmao

Bury My Mother Pale and Slight by Amalgemotion - Virtues song. The chorus is directly calling to Gabriel as 'the knight' who will bring them freedom. I like to think that 'the king' mentioned here is God

For Narmer from Warframe- Sisyphean Insurrectionists

Like The Dawn by The Oh Hellos- Hell/Lucifer

Nothing Changes from Hadestown - The Council

Living in The Light by Ridiculon - The Council

[snowfox-07]

Happy Mothercs Day!

*First from left: Helluva Boss, Stella, is Stolas' wife and Octavia's mother. She has always had a bad temper.

*Second from left: Helluva Boss, Lin, is Millie's mother and Joe's wife. She and her husband are also the owners of Rough n' Tumbleweed Ranch.

*Third from left: Hollow Knight, The White Lady, is a root-based higher being, the wife of the Pale King, the former queen of Hallownest, and the mother of the containers. However, out of guilt for creating the containers, she bound herself to the Queen's Garden.

*Fourth from right: Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf, Red Wolf, Big Big Wolf's wife, Little Big Big Wolf's mother. On the surface, she is fierce and brutal, but she has a soft heart. She carries countless frying pans, both large and small, and she almost never misses a shot when beating Big Big Wolf.

*Third from right: Bluey, Brandy, Chilli's sister, Bluey and Bingo's aunt. It is strongly hinted in the series that she has fertility issues, but later, she finally gets the child she longed for.

* Second from right: Bluey, Chilli, Bandit's wife, Bluey and Bingo's mother, is good at teaching her daughters about the world and how to deal with challenges. She can also be as silly as her dad when playing; she likes to dance around the house to her favorite songs.

* First from right: Undertale, Toriel, the former queen of the underworld, Asgore's ex-wife, Asriel's mother, Chara's adoptive mother, who loves baking, reading, writing puns, finding insects and taking care of flowers. She likes to bake butterscotch pies and also aspires to become a teacher.

[charliegearhart]

2021 FARC Bummin' Beaver Brewery Tornado Alley Tour - Race 4 - LaCrosse Fairgrounds Speedway

Welcome to FARC Racing coverage on this blog. I hope you enjoy this little experiment. Beware, spoilers below.

Taylor Brillon won the 75 lap FARC Bummin' Beaver Tornado Alley Tour late model feature at LaCrosse Fairgrounds Speedway in West Salem, Wisconsin. It is the first victory of the year for her and the No. 9 Arnie Pine Racing team, and her first late model win since Waterbury Park in 2019.

This race flew by uninterruped by cautions, a surprising achievement for the series.

Cody Lewis drove his Basscadet machine to a second consecutive pole with Brillon on his outside. Lewis made a clean getaway at the start as FARC legend Andy Pearson followed him under the 9 into second place, making a special appearance in his Bald Tire Brewing No. 2 in a cheeky flex on the series sponsor.

You can't win the race on the first lap, but the winning move was made on lap 3, when Brillon got by Pearson for second and started chasing Lewis. Meanwhile, Art Gordon was existing in his No. 49, running lap times two seconds slower than the leaders.

Cody Lewis seemed to enjoy his time behind Art Gordon, as he dropped to fifth. He would eventually recover and claw his way back to third.

Meanwhile, Brillon led with Pearson in tow. They were kept close in part by regular encounters with lapped traffic, filling the scoreboard with more and more negative numbers as the green flag continued to enjoy the sunshine.

The former Lowe Dollar Series regulars enjoyed a smart yet spirited battle, but Brillon held Pearson off the rest of the way. Pearson's best chance came in turn 2 on lap 62, when he caught Brillon sliding high. However, the 40-year veteran lacked momentum out of the corner, allowing Brillon to shut the door in turn 3.

Andy Pearson may be FARC's most accomplished driver, with 4 Lowe Dollar Series titles, and later two more in the Super Series late models where he continues to race regularly, but he is also 65 years old, and 75 laps is a lot of laps to race consecutively at his age.

Taylor Brillon inched away and cruised to the win, lapping everybody up to 10th. The last victims of car 9 were reigning and final FARC Truck Series champion Eddie Vero, who finished 11th, and her teammate and father Kenny Brillon for a second time. "I don't know how we held him off." Brillon said of Pearson's chase after climbing out of her bright yellow Arnie Pine Auto Sales machine. "It ain't every day you've got the Goat honking at you. If he got me there [on lap 62] I knew it was gonna be over."

Gordon Tanner (No. 26) and Mindy Gunn (No. 35) entered this race tied for the points lead, with the tiebreaker going to Tanner for his two victories at Ishpeming and Quincy against Gunn's lone win, coming last week at Grundy County Speedway. After 75 laps, Tanner crossed the line in fifth, four seconds ahead of Gunn, giving him the championship lead by two points over Gunn.

Preston Orchard-Park (No. 85) was the only casualty of the 23-car starting field, losing his engine on lap 8 and finishing last.

The last time Kevin Monroe stepped into a FARC car, he went upside down on the first lap at Road America in 2019. The M&J Racing boss was thankful for bringing the Jeb Klinger Special home eighth in his first outing with the Klinger family. "The only thing Zeb [Klinger, car owner] asked for was no acrobatics." Monroe said with a smile. "So I think today was a success." Monroe qualified ninth and found himself dueling with Caitlin Cook, Tyler Bridgette, and former M&J coworker Eddie Vero for a bulk of the race, ultimately finishing one spot better than he started. Monroe will return with the Klinger family at the season-ending Rockford 200.

The next round for the Tornado Alley Tour will be the 72-lap support race at Minnesota Motorsports Park, a wide and fast one mile oval that is expected to produce pack racing for the late models.

Race Results

Championship Standings

[roguelov]

Ok but your tags on that Longlegs post 😂

I said what said and I’m a proud owner of a dumbass brain 😂 I even said it was jfk with my full chest then my sister (who saw it with me) was like ‘… dude that was Bill Clinton’ and I was like ‘😶 … you’re right’

I’ll put some rambling thoughts below so no spoilers

Like to be fair the movie was good but I thought it was going to lean more towards mystery serial killer thriller not spooks and shit (although once I did see it was satan I did play the game of trying to find that goat man in the background)

I can do thrillers and killers but demons/ghosts I don’t mix well (I blame paranormal activity given that was my first big horror movie after swearing to not touch a single horror movie ever cuz like I said I’m a baby but I’m slowly getting into horror like some of Mike flangans stuff)

I will be fighting the head of fbi in a parking lot because why the fuck was his daughter’s birthday never brought up???? MY GUY THE BRIGHT WARNING SIGNS ARE FLASHING AND YOU WENT ‘couldn’t be for me’ (it probably was like oh satan already has him so that why he didn’t say anything and blah blah blah bullshit)

Him: why did you tell me your birthday was on the 14th?

Me: ok so like your daughter apparently doesn’t matter 🤨

Also was everyone uninvited to the party or was there no party to begin with? I like the former for shits and giggles like ‘yeah sorry Bethany the party has been canceled due to satan yeah you’re going to have to return your gift you bought’

And like Harker just not stopping the dad from killing his wife was bonkers. Yeah yeah I know the mom was like ‘she’s already dead’ while frankly I don’t give a fuck how about you stop that man cuz I sat there like ‘… we’re just letting this happen?? Not even going to try??? Not even a lil bit????’

I did not watch homie bash his brains in cuz he hit his head once and I went ‘you know what … I’m actually good on seeing this’

I did love the cool upside shot of her on the bed and just the whole aesthetic and cinematography of the movie it was stunning

Also for some reason when they first showed Harker’s cabin I swore her home as a child was in the background so I thought we lived near it for motivation and what not but alas it was just a random ass white house that held no importance

WAIT ALSO I REMEMBERED WHY THE FUCK DID HARKER NOT CALL IN FOR THE SHOOTER IN THE FIRST 10 MINUTES I WAS LIKE ‘GIRL CALL FOR BACK UP YOUR PARTNER JUST GOT SHOT’ SHE HAD ME PANICKING AS SHE SEARCHED THAT HOUSE

[ratsoh-writes]

After that whole ordeal, the family got wind on the gruesome dead of their relative at the hands of one of Empress minions.

Nobody mourned him. He had made a grave mistake. And now the only thing left was to catch the bastard that had handed him the information.

And almost everyone's first suspect was Oscar. Since him missing right before this whole mess seemed very suspicious.

"How dare you!? He has been nothing but loyal to the coven since the beginning"

"Lilith, be reasonable. That spawn of yours was always a wild card. It was just a matter of time before he got bored of us and did something on his own-"

"NO! No, he couldn't, he-"

"Do you at least have proof of that, brother? Because if you turn out to be wrong..."

"Yeah! Yes! Sea is right. DO YOU HAVE PROOF!?"

"Well- I..."

It was clear what he was trying to do. And why nobody was stopping him. Many people in the house had access to that information at different times. And even if none of them gave it to that uncle, the fact that the intel had passed through so many hands meant that all of them were suspects, including her and Oscar. That was why it was easier for everyone to just make him the escape goat.

.

Not a week later, there was another problem. A rumor had started, it said that some mage families only dated monsters to give birth to other mages, and that if the baby was a halfbreed, then it was discarded.

This quickly reached Sea's family. Making some of the monster alliances they had previously made squint their eyes at them. After all, her family only consisted in mages, sometimes witches, but not one monster or halfbreed. They had eyes on them now.

This was harder to shut down than the previous crisis. It took them days to placate every single accusatory comment towards them. Instead, they redirected that towards some Factory and former slave owners families. A group of ex-slaves even made a riot in front of one of their houses.

That was the second warning shot.

.

"I tell you. All good and bad things come in trios. What if the next thing-"

"Calm down Lisa"

"I'M CALM!"

Eyes were starting to turn, as well as fingers started to begin pointing out to each other. The members of her family began to worry now, because this was clearly no coincidence.

"Oscar is not that smart to start a rumor like that..."

"I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU THAT MY SON IS INNOCENT"

"Yeah yeah, we heard you the first time"

.

The third and last warning shot came three days after the rumors had calmed down.

It was a quiet autumn afternoon, the fallen leaves made a beautiful red and orange carpet in the family's backyard. The chill of the air forced many to stay indoors with a hot cup of tea.

It was an otherwise perfect day.

Until three royal guards appeared in front of the main gate, demanding to be let inside.The house went into panic mode again. Did someone get in trouble? Maybe it was just an official check up. Did... did someone forget to pay their taxes?

.

It was Sea's father that let the guards in after making them wait just three minutes.

He played the role of a good host, offering them something to drink and the best chairs.

"-about the video that was uploaded yesterday."

"Why- what video?"

"You haven't seen it?"

"The bunny guard pulled out her phone to show him a video. It was about a basement, it looked unkempt and dirty, but the worst part was that inside it were jail cells and clearly showing a skeleton, a Carashield, a vox, a chained flayer, and a flame elemental. Even if the video looked a tad low in the resolution, it was evident what was happening.

"We took it from the Internet after three hours of being uploaded. We have royal permission to inspect every house that is suspected of having a basement big enough for this."

.

Obviously, the guards found nothing. It was good that they had sealed the basement permanently after the Empress scare.

It was clear that someone was onto them. But whom? Their enemies didn't know about the monsters, their new allies neither.

Who?

Who was doing this to them?

"Is something wrong, dad?"

"Ugh. Did you know about the video?"

"The one that showed our basement?"

"You saw it? When? The guards said they took it down-"

"Yeah. I know. I honestly thought they would take even less time with that but..."

Oh...

It was her...

Oooooo the jig is up!!! Getem sea!!!!

[mecthology]

The Billiwhack Monster: A Cryptid Legend from California.

First reported in 1912, the monster is said to be a predator of both humans and livestock, and its legend has persisted despite the absence of physical evidence.

The creature is described as a half-goat, half-man humanoid with long claws, gray hair, and ram-like horns, and has been known to throw rocks at cars and pound on their hoods, leaving dents.

The legend dates back to World War II and is associated with August Rubel, a former owner of the Billiwhack Dairy and Ranch, who was rumored to have conducted secret experiments for the Office of Strategic Services (OSS).

Some believe the Billiwhack Monster is a product of these experiments that escaped and now haunts the area. The dairy itself is described as a decrepit ruin with underground rooms and tunnels and is said to be filled with uncashed checks made out to August Rubel.

While there is no concrete evidence to support the existence of the Billiwhack Monster, the legend persists and continues to attract cryptozoologists and curious visitors to the area.

The site is also known for other strange occurrences, including sightings of a half-monkey, half-man creature in nearby Ojai.

Follow @mecthology for more cryptid lores and spooky legends.

Source: notoriouslymorbid.com & weirdca.com

[laura-the-yellow-cat]

Charrofoxie Fox My NEW MSA X Poppy Playtime OC

Full Name: Charrofoxie Fox

Nickname: Mr Charrofoxie Fox, the little Charrofoxie Fox, Charming love (by his girlfriend, Kindness Kittycat)

Short name: Charrofoxie Fox

Gender: Male

Profile Pic

Age: 6

Blood Type: C

Scent: Orange Fruit

Occupation:

Actual or Past Occupation:

Favourite Shows/Games: ___/___/___

(___,___,___)

Favourite Food:

Instrument: Guitar

Favourite Animal: N/A

Family Members Relatives: Bravefoxie Fox (his brother)

Other Family Members Relatives:

Species: Toy Fox

Friends: Bobby BearHug, Bubba Bubbaphant, CraftyCorn, DogDay, Hoppy Hopscotch, KickinChicken and PickyPiggy, Cheerful Unicat, Lonely-Sad Goat, Storyteller Owl, Blushing Sheep, Sheepynap, Kindness Kittycat (his Girlfriend), Daydreaming Pegasus, Me/Laura (his favourite owner's toy), Sardonyx the Poltercat, Sarah/You, Samantha the Polter Dog/Kitsune, Sapphire the Dog/Kitsune,

Enemies: Catnap, Midnighty-Bat, Black Charro-Crow (his former friend) and The Prototype

Alignment: Good

Personality: Friendly, Heroic, Playful, Kind, Adventurous, Cheerful, Brave, Strong and Handsome

Likes: Kindness Kittycat's sings was wonderful, The Smiling Critters, his brother,

Dislikes: The Poppy Gas, his friends gets danger,

Hobby: Playing with guitar, Playing, Singing, Dancing

Goals: To survived from catnap's poppy gas and to defeat Catnap, Midnighty-Bat and Black Charro-Crow (Both Succeeded)

Weapons:

Powers and Abilities:

Skills and Abilities:

Fears/Phobias:

Skin Colour: Light Orange-Red

Eyes Colour: White (in the past)

Hair Colour: Light Orange-Red

Clothes: Charro Outfit

Shoes: Charro Shoes

Accessories: Charro Hat, Bow tie and Necklace with Rose

Hair Styles:

Mustache Styles: N/A

Beard Styles: N/A

Nationality:

Sexuality:

@sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge Goes Tracking - Pounce (Part 18)

You don’t miss the number of familiar faces dotting the streets as you make your way over to a stout apartment complex, box of pie in hand. Women sitting at an al fresco cafe, coffees in hand. Men jogging along the street. All of them look at you, then look away just as quickly. 

A small downturn of your brows is the only indication that you found any of it out of place. It seemed as though they were waiting for something. What exactly, you can only guess.

Tap tap tap go the heels of your shoes as you move from pavement, to stone, to tile. The sound echoes in the stairwell, then the hallway, until you finally come to a stop in front of a plain apartment door. There, you pause. Long enough that you can focus on the soft breathing on the other side of the door, on the soft scent of pie crust and freshly cut grass. She’s here. 

Knock knock.

Nothing. Not even the skip of a breath, a slightest shuffle of feet. 

You try again. Knock knock.

“Who’s there?” comes a soft, firm voice. Entirely human sounding. 

You hate that you have been acquaintances with Sans long enough that the first thing that comes to mind is a knock knock joke.

“Howl.” Well, technically it isn’t far from what you’ve been doing the whole afternoon. 

“...howl who?” Oh goodness, she sounds so perplexed yet curious. Is this how you sound when you react to Sans’ puns?

Well, nothing for it. “Howl you know if you don’t open the door?”

A soft snort, a stifled giggle, and finally the soft shuffle of feet. The deadlock to the door opens, along with a whole host of locks. When the door finally swings open, you have to look up and up to meet the former Queen’s dark eyes. Only slightly shorter than King Asgore, if you had to guess, with small horns, long ears, and luxurious white fur. Her broad shoulders fill the frame, her plain green dress doing nothing to hide her build. 

But she...

You take her in without a shift of your eyes. She looks haggard, the fur around her neck ruffled and flattened, as though she had smoothed her fur over the skin, as if there were a missing patch. The way she holds an arm tells you that her bicep aches, that she won’t be able to lift it past her ribs. Something happened to her.

The goat monster only shakes her head at you and ushers you in quickly. “That was a terrible joke,” she says with a small smile, closing the door behind you as you step in. But not before she casts a glance at the hallway behind you - empty.

You hate that you gave into the urge to use such a joke, but it did work. Your notes indicated that she was fond of such things, and far be it for you not to use it to your advantage. “Good afternoon, Miss Toriel,” you incline your head, the pie balanced between your hands. “My apologies for interrupting your day.” Then you extend the boxed pie to her, freshly baked and burning against your gloved hands. “Please accept a housewarming gift.”

Toriel looks at you sharply, already backing away with her hands raised in a defensive posture. “I should have known--!” she hisses, fire sparking between her fingers in an intimidating show of magic.

The taste of it is heavy on your tongue, ash building on your taste buds. And yet you do not move, the pie still held before you. “Peace, Miss Toriel.” The intensifying heat in the apartment causes your breaths to linger in your chest. “I come on behalf of those who wish to see you unharmed.”

“Unharmed but captured, is that it?” the former Queen growls. 

You don’t blink, you don’t flinch, you don’t move. “No. Unharmed and safe.” Slowly, you open the top of the box and immediately the warm scent of butterscotch fills the air. “I come on behalf of the owner of the Continental Hotel. She wishes to invite you to high tea with her.”

Toriel still looks suspicious, though the heavy taste of ash dies down. “A bribe.”

“An invitation.” Like the pie still held out to her. “A bribe would have been snail pie, but I have it on good authority that I would be hard pressed to find one better than what you can make.” You make sure that your tone is even, with no inflection. 

The fur on the back of the former Queen’s shoulders rise. “On whose authority?” She sounds less wary even though she still looks tense. Good.

Without hesitation, you answer, “Mx Frisk.”

White furred hands fly to her snout and she gasps. “Frisk! Oh, my child,” she breathes out shakily into her cupped hands. “Please, is Frisk--is my child safe?”

“Safe and waiting at the Continental, Miss Toriel.” Your head tilts deliberately in a silent question. Why is she so worried if she was the one who left Frisk alone in the first place? You can only think it has to do with the increased activity in this area. Someone has taken an interest in her, but not in Frisk. 

It’s almost as if she deflates on the spot, staggering and slowly sinking into the couch. “Oh stars...Frisk...” But she caught your question, eventually looking up from her hands and gesturing you closer. When you do, she takes the pie from your hands and smiles through her tears at the freshly baked pie. 

“Please, sit. Did you want some as well?” She heads for the kitchen.

“Certainly,” you say with an incline of your head, sitting primly in the armchair adjacent to the couch from where she had sat. The former Queen bustles in the kitchen for plates and a cake knife and cutlery. Letting you inspect the apartment without scrutiny.

Bare bones, sparsely furnished. Curtains drawn. A lamp here and there to illuminate the room, but no overhead lights. A safehouse perhaps? The former Queen clearly does not want to be found. 

“Here,” her paw comes out from your peripheral vision, offering a slice of butterscotch pie and a little fork next to it. 

You nod, taking it. “My thanks.”

For a while, there is no sound save for the clinking of cutlery on porcelain, of the soft sounds of eating. You, too, slowly take measured bites of the pie. Not because you dislike the taste, but out of habit. Best not to ingest too much lest you need to exert yourself later. 

When the former Queen is finished with her slice, she finally speaks up, her doe-like eyes fixed upon her plate. “Asgore is a fool. More heart than sense,” she bites out, her eyes flaring as she looks up into your impassive face. “I told him to stay out of human politics on that scale, but he never listens to me. And now look where we are, more eyes on us that we can afford.”

Toriel grinds her teeth, the sound louder than even the rattling of her plate as it trembles in her grip. “All I wanted...” Tears fall from eyes squeezed shut. “I just wanted to live in peace...”

You can only listen quietly, your plate cradled on your lap. It is odd. To listen to someone just...pour their heart out to you. In all your years, that has not once happened to you, not even with the Manager who can boast to be the closest to your heart and you to hers. 

Feeling endlessly awkward at being unable to say anything, you elect not to, maintaining a polite expression as you listen to her. 

And that seems to be enough for Toriel. The goat monster wipes away her tears and sets her plate on the coffee table, sighing heavily. “What did my child say about Asgore, when they asked you to find me?” She looks at you, gaze expectant. 

Oddly enough, you find yourself compelled to answer. Interesting. “That he could not be trusted.”

Toriel nods sharply in response. “Gorey--that is, Asgore. He wants me...” She groans, as if she was struggling to force the words out. “Safe. Or as safe as he thinks I can be. I didn’t agree with his version of ‘safety’.” Though she does not gesture to her neck, you can tell what the bare ring of skin indicates. 

The King wanted her safe. At all costs. 

The former Queen lets her head fall back into her hands with a groan, muttering under her breath, “Fucking Alphys...”

You pretend not to hear it. For a few minutes, you stay quiet, allowing Toriel to gather her thoughts. 

“Did Asgore get what he wanted?” She doesn’t lift her head from her hands.

How to answer that question. “No,” you answer evenly, placing your half-eaten plate on the coffee table. “But they are now bound by the rules of the Continental.”

At that, the former Queen stirs. “I thought that might happen,” she breathes out slowly. Finally, she scrubs at her face and sighs. “Then...” Blazing doe-like eyes burn into your dead ones. “Would you kindly escort me to the Continental Hotel, Concierge?” And from a pocket of her dress, she pulls out a gold coin. 

Dead eyes flick from hers to the coin, and then back again. A polite smile spreads on your face. “Of course.” 

You take the coin.

And all hell breaks loose.

[fat-slobby-hunks]

AU'S:

Agent au:

My muses but they're all special agents working for a shady undercover organization. Their bodies are enhanced with special enhancements that give them miraculous agility at the cost of their metabolism and waist line.

Kinks: weight gain, force feeding, latex suits, stuckage, feeding machines and more

Organizations:

The org: nameless shadowy government agency. Employees spies and supplies them with the mysterious chemical [bhm] that allows them to perform inhuman feats

Hazbin Incorporated:

A third party organization that employees the not so silent but very deadly spy known as Angel Dust. Only seeks power and profit.

My muses but they're all royalty in world of pure candy.

The Phantom Thieves:

Ryuji, Akira and Yusuke a trio of gentlemen thieves by night and normal (kinda) citizens by day. Ryuji is a former athlete, Akira a streamer and Yusuke a plus sized model and artist.

Rocket Food Enterprises:

Run by Lysander and Giovanni

These two Rocket Food enterprises. It's considered the food of the future. They own gyms, diet pill and exercise equipment companies. They have multiple food brands all disguised as trying to curve obesity and spread awareness for health and fitness. Giovanni handles the business while Lysander does tech.

Candyland Au:

Kinks: princess tf, intelligence loss, inflation, force feeding, and more

Farm Au:

My muses split amongst various positions of a farm dedicated to raising and breeding hucows and other hybrids.

Kinks: animal/pig play, breeding, exhibitionism, chastity, milking, force feeding and more

Space pirate au:

My muses sailing the cosmos as space pirates

Cyberpunk au:

My muses in a general cyberpunk setting

Axiom Au:

My muses as passengers aboard the Axiom space ship from Wall-E

Fantasy Au:

My muses in a high fantasy setting

Western Au:

An anthro hazbin/helluva boss au featuring the characters In an old west setting

May add other series eventually

Key characters:

Stolas:

Species: owl

Bio: rich son of an oil baron with some shady ties to a criminal organization. Lives an runs a local library.

Sheriff Lucifer:

Species: hell stallion (fancy horse)

Bio: sheriff and big shot around town. Keeps things running smoothly. Has a passion for rubber ducks and apples

Husker:

Species: cat chimera

Bio: the happy saloon's disgruntled bar tender. Town drunk, gambler, and former outlaw all in one grumpy package.

Alastor:

Species: deer

Bio: owner of the hazbin saloon, local celebrity and radio star. Is secretly running various criminal enterprises beneath the floor of his humble saloon.

Zestial:

Species: spider

Bio: the town undertaker noones quite sure what he gets up to...

Angel Dust:

Species: spider

Bio: waiter and occasional dancer at the local saloon. Showed up in town one day in bad shape and never bothered to tell anyone why.

Asmodeus:

Species: avian demon (big bird man)

Bio: exotic thrill seeker, entrepreneur and owner of some of the most popular adult entertainment locals across the county. Run's a local club called Ozzie's. (100% not in love >:[ )

Fizzarolli:

Species: imp

Bio: a performer an comedian. Works at towns largest and only theater

Blitzo:

Species: imp

Bio:

Moxxie:

Species: imp

Bio:

Asgore Dreemurr:

Species: goat boss monster

Bio: the mayor of town and owner of the east garden in the county fair.

Location's

Pentagram Sheriff's department:

Hazbin Saloon: the local watering hole and definitely not a front for any illegal business.

[hriobzagelthewanderer]

Four Seasons - A Desk in the Halls

In a warmly, if softly lit room aside from a hallway, in a particular mountain, there laid a desk... though arguably, it was both singular and multiple, in its own way.

The desk was carefully restored to its former glory with polish, magic, and an eye for adding fine details... organized carefully, if still a tad messy in places, with texts, letters, tomes, and research materials all placed side-by-side, all maintained but far from frequently sifted through.

The desk was worn, but carefully maintained - strewn with dozens of notes, books, journals, and tools for careful treatment and restoration of said literature and writings - chaotic to the untrained eye, yet everything had its place within the owner's mind, abstract or untrue as it may otherwise seem, due to the consistent presence of the owner working through it all.

The desk was worn, yet carefully maintained... covered in dozens of stacks of books, papers, and correspondences that at times forced their way to the floor and shelves beyond its reach. Other parts of the halls were less visited perhaps nowadays, but here he maintained his day-job's paper trail meticulously, never letting things fall to the wayside even with his moonlighting position to worry about.

The desk was worn, laid empty save for two things... a picture of a woman with a gentle smile, ribbed fin-like ears, and white hair, alongside a small jeweled clasp, a silver goat with emerald eyes... and a very worn, yet lovingly cleaned stuffed toy goat. Where papers and tomes would normally be, instead were rings of candles that never extinguished, surrounding the picture and mementos, changing the purpose of the furniture from one of studiousness to rememberance.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this Week # 150 (Year 3/Week 46):

We All Loved Each Other So Much, only my second by Ettore Scola (after 'A special day'), a sprawling saga of post-World War II Italian life and politics, dedicated to and with a cameo of Vittorio de Sica. Strangely episodic and focused on friendship and the cinema. At one point he's recreating the shooting of the Fontana di Trevi scene of La Dolce Vita, with both Fellini and Mastroianni re-playing themselves - very uncanny!

🍿

The four times is a wordless, award-winning slow-poem from 2010. Philosophically, it follows the Pythagorean notion about the four transmigrations of the soul, as exemplified in the lives of a human, an animal, a plant and a mineral. Visually, it follows a dying goatherd in a small southern Italian village, who mixes the dust from the local church floor with water to drink as medicine. Just as he dies, a baby goat is being born, then the story turns to a fir tree under which that lost goat had died, and finally into a pile of charcoal. The smoke from the burning coal turns into dust, which is what the old shepherd drank. It’s the cycle of life and death. It's a fragile and contemplative viewing, quiet and spiritual.

The trailer. 9/10.

🍿  

“Raise ravens, and they'll gouge your eyes out”…

Raise Ravens (Cría Cuervos) by renown Spanish director Carlos Saura. A mystical psychological drama about painful childhood memories. With the same little actress who starred in ‘The spirit of the beehive’. She watches her dying mother suffering in pain, fantasises about poisoning her father, relives her sad upbringing in a villa with an empty swimming pool in the back. That kind of story.

🍿

"Pi-Kan Pai!"

Another frequent re-watch: Best (?) modern romantic comedy, When Harry met Sally. Sweet Sally (Photo Above) and Woody Allen-lite Harry, the original obnoxious mansplainer, and "human affront to all women". How they fall in love in 12 short years. His deeply cynical misogyny is an unpleasant hindrance, but eventually even he changes, becomes softer, even nice.

With a shout-out to Mallomas, the American version of the Danish flødeboller (קרמבו). Still 10/10.

🍿

L’enfer (Torment), my 7th film by Claude Chabrol, a low-rent version of 'The Shining', about a husband who descends into madness. A paranoiac hotel owner starts suspecting that his wife is cheating on him, and his obsessive jealousy turns this whole story into an ugly, unpleasant trip. 3/10.

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Wikipedia has a list of all movies with 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes and # 6 with the highest number of unanimous reviews (129) is Minding the gap, a 2018 Oscar nominee. The debut documentary from one Bing Liu is the tremendous chronicles of himself and his two blue-collar friends. Three young skaters from Rockford, IL, from their teens until much older and sadder, they look back at their disappointed, broken lives. Rockford, IL, a dying rust belt city with 100% empty streets. 9/10.

🍿

All inclusive, a lovely Danish comedy, made by an all-women team, about a 60-year-old mother and her two adult daughters on a Southern vacation to Malta. The one freewheeling daughter wants her mother to have some fun, so she pays a local bartender to flirt with her. My 3rd film with Danica Curcic. 6/10.

🍿

“Call me” X 2:

🍿 Call me Chihiro is a wistful feel-good slow-cinema fairy tale, about a 29-year-old free spirit in a small seaside Japanese town. She's a former sex worker but now she services as a cashier at a Bento shop. Kind and friendly to anyone she meets, she spreads good will to anyone who crosses her path. Always smiling, but nurturing a sad heart, it's a leisurely-told story that eventually meanders over 2 hours with heartfelt snippets of the various characters she touches, but with no resolutions. 7/10.

It made me realize how purely escapist are the all movies I watch. I am satisfied walking with her at sunset on the docks of this pretty, far away town.

🍿 Re-watch: Luca Guadagnino's sensuous Call Me by Your Name. Beautifully-shot, romantic love story of an upper-class Italian summer. Great acting by two hetero(?) players, and the irritating Jewish father.

You know what things... The incredible one-shot at the plaza.

🍿

Pull my daisy, an experimental "Beat Generation" movie, made by photographer Robert Frank in 1959. Written and narrated by Jack Kerouac, and featuring Allen Ginsburg, Gregory Corso and Delphine Seyrig (!), it's a jazzy, free-form poem with an improvisational Joycean flair. A bohemian group crash a party. Nice!

🍿

Apocalypse Clown, an absurdist apocalyptic Irish slapstick comedy about a troupe of washed out clowns, trying to find meaning after a freak solar flare wipes out electricity in the world. Silly and off-beat. 7/10.

The trailer.

🍿

3 by Mabel Normand, silent screen director and actress:

🍿 Mabel Norman was a major female director and star who collaborated with Mack Sennet, and directed Charlie Chaplin's first films.

Mabel's Strange Predicament was Chaplin's first film where he used the tramp persona and costume. It was 1914, and he was slightly less polished: It was obvious he was a drunk, a lecher, a big tipper, his make up had his mouth in a permanent frown. Her predicament was being locked out of her room wearing pajamas!

🍿 Caught in a Cabaret, another 1914 Chaplin 2-reeler. Here he's a waiter who fakes being the Prime Minister of Greenland. There's also a real giantess, maybe a 6'5 foot extra dancing in the background.

🍿 Mabel's Blunder is a gender-bender comedy, with a secretary being hit by both her boss and his father. This short was added to the National Film Registry.

🍿

Etgar Keret is an absurdist, postmodern Israeli poet. More that 100 of his existentialist plays were adapted to short international movies. I discovered him after reading a painful NYT essay ‘I Feel a Human Deterioration’ about the massacre in Gaza.

Wristcutters: A Love Story, based on a story of his, was a bizarre black-comedy experiment about the after-life station where people who had committed suicide find themselves. It opens with a tremendous surprising suicide, but all of its young actors are especially un-charismatic, the directing by some Croatian dude is distinctively mediocre, and even Tom Waits cannot save it. 4/10

🍿

David Cross's 2021 stand-up I'm from the future opens with a stark and powerful story, a woman’s journey to, and experience in, the gas chamber in Auschwitz. It's an angry, scathing criticism of right wing ideology, delivered remorselessly and without pity. 6/10.

🍿

Edgar Wright directed a fake trailer for a fictitious 1970’s exploitation horror film called Don’t. It was included in Tarantino & Rodriguez’s ‘Grindhouse’.

🍿

Oh, how I hated Scorsese’s cult comedy After Hours! The appalling, affected yuppy character, the typecasted Soho artists, the unfunny twists and turns of the journey to ‘get back home’. 1/10.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)