#at: the elements made flesh (form & features)

[flokali]

I just want to touch zhonglis horns or tail. Like they are so pretty

a/n: me too anon, me too ><

I love the image of a relaxed Zhongli who, after much coaxing from your part, allows a small pair of horns to adorn the top of his head. Well, it’s less that it’s small and more so that he’s big enough that almost anything that isn’t comically large looks small near him.

They look similar to Azhdaha’s horns in colour, earthy tones that make them look like Geo formations sitting atop their heads. However, Zhongli’s look just a tad bit neater, as if a gifted craftsman had taken the time to carve and polish them — which, may be possible considering how particular the former archon has become in regards to his appearance ever since your arrival.

His horns blend in their base with his hair, a dark brown colour that fades into a colour that looks akin to polished Cor Lapis. They sit comfortably atop his hair, curling upwards until the very tip where they finally look down. Long, thick vein-like carvings decorate them, their pattern looking much like the ones found in his pillars.

Whenever he uses his Geo element, which he rarely does whenever he allows himself to show his more draconian features, said carvings are filled up with elemental energy that glows a golden colour, instances in which they look much like rivers of gold flowing through him.

They’d probably be cold, at least whenever he’s not using any elemental energy, in which case they seemingly hum a soft warmth. But it never burns hot or freezingly cold, on the instances where you glide the pad of your finger through the, surprisingly, smooth surface it feels pleasant. Like an ointment that leaves your skin tingling, they seemingly buzz with energy native to Teyvat.

I also like to think that, when allowing more… draconic features of his to shine, Zhongli’s arms look similar to his Rex Lapis days. Back then, his arms were deep in colour with golden markings glowing - much like his horns, I’d think. Unlike before, the colour doesn’t seep into his neck, instead neatly ending near his shoulders and fading back into his human form’s flesh. But it’s just as striking, they almost look like gloves, but when you touch them they still feel like skin — the golden etchings in them, however, would probably feel more calloused, like scar tissue. In these instances, his arms run cold, much like stone. It’s only near the golden tissue that a semblance of warmth is found. During particularly hot summer days, they work wonders in keeping the heat away.

A tail… for some reason, I feel like he’d be extremely hesitant in showing it off. Only during private hours with you, where he’ll be absolutely certain no one other than yourself will see, will he show you. When he does, you notice how slim it is — only growing in size by the end, where it resembles a cloud. It’s essentially the same tail he possesses as Morax, where the end is filled with explosive colours that make it look like pure Geo energy materialising into the air.

Like any dragon, his tail is made out of scales - however his are surprisingly smooth, they blend into each other creating the illusion of there being no scales at all. They’re still sturdy, however, you’re pretty sure no weapon in existence could cut through them. His tail’s end… I think it’d be fur, long hairs combed into their position mimicking the clouds above Liyue Harbor during sunsets, unlike the rest of his body, I think it’d be surprisingly soft and, forgive my blasphemy, fluffy.

In these instances where he allows himself to be more vulnerable, showing bits and pieces of his most prominent and powerful forms, he grows to love your affection.

He loves it just as much when you comb his long, silken hair as when you detangle his tail. The feeling of your nails tracing the hundreds of scales that protect his tail make a shiver run down his spine, one that pleasures him as much as takes him by surprise every time.

Zhongli is rather secretive about his previous roles in life, which means that he has to trust you quite a lot to willingly expose traits of his that once belonged to the lives he once lived, which is why he’s so keen on keeping these attributes of his known only to the two of you.

If he so much as senses anybody coming near the room, his horns and tail quickly disappear - much to your disappointment. If anybody, much less someone like Venti, where to catch even so much as a glimpse of his more draconian features, you might need to physically restrain him lest he send them home with multiple injuries. It comes to a point where he mostly only cares about keeping a secret only between you and himself, rather than keeping his identity secret.

It’s why he treasures the soft moments where you lay in bed together, his head resting against your chest as you softly rub his horns with gentle motions. His ears are sharp, the beating of your heart is loud and clear to Zhongli, but it’s not bothersome at all — instead, it’s soothing to him, like the sound of soft rain against a window would be to some or waves softly crashing down into the sand. You’re too sleepy to notice, the warmth radiating from the man on top of you was simply too comfortable for you to resist the temptation of slumber, the soft purring that rumbled from his chest.

That was yet another feature of his you’d soon familiarise yourself with though, he still wanted to keep a few cards up his sleeve in case he felt you were drifting too far away from his embrace.

[marthawrites]

first of all choose to ignore this if you're not up to it but i would LOVE some aemond x reader tiddies sucking/worship with a whole pussy eating and pussy fucking.. dirty talk always appreciated btw!! AGAIN feel free to ignore im just an aemond and tiddies sucking sucker <3

Hello sweet anon! Are you still with me? I hope you are ♥ I apologize for making you wait since July for this request. If you are still around, I sincerely hope this fic does the trick - mwah!

Morning Lovebites Lead To Sweet Dreams

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: You and Aemond share a morning bath and the lingering sensations last with you all day. When he returns to your marriage chambers later than usual, you're sad you might sleep through his return. Once in for the night, however, he makes up for it.

Includes: It's in the request! This is all smut. Featuring breast play, nipple play, biting, hickies, unprotected vaginal sex, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, sweet talking, some dirty talking, possessiveness, and minor breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! While this fic has elements of breast worship, there is no descriptions to breast size. That is entirely up to you! All tiddies are good tiddies in this house! Reader is implied to come from a noble House but is unspecified. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

“Every woman is the image of their mother and to be spoken of with reverence,” Aemond’s voice rasped into the smooth skin of your neck as he gathered your hair into his gentle grasp, moving it over one shoulder to expose the full length of your bare neck and shoulder to him. He trailed the tip of his nose over your delicate skin as if he could smell the very blood that pumped through your veins. Goosebumps rose on your skin and he smiled silently at the sight. “Mm… my lovely wife. So sweet and still so sensitive for her husband’s touch,” he murmured again, both his hands feeling up the front of your slippery body. “Every day the urge to thank your mother for making you grows greater,” he said as he gently squeezed your breasts, their softness and warmth already making his cock swell against the small of your back. 

Despite the many turns of moon you’d been married, the temperature of his baths still made you hiss upon entering. Yet, you gasped softly at the sensation of his hands. He was warm; always so warm. Your skin bloomed with the tub's heat, and the humidity of it caused little curls to form in the fine hairs of your hairline. “You’ve thanked my mother and father for my hand many times, husband,” you answered sweetly. “So much so that they cannot believe I’m not carrying your child yet,” you added just as sweet, leaning back against him to further press your breasts into his palms.

He peppered kisses – open mouthed and nipping – over your neck, looking down the front of your body. He loved your breasts from every angle, but there was something extra delicious about seeing them from this angle. He pinched your pebbled nipples gently and rolled them between his fingers. “It’s not from lack of excitement or trying,” he said, smirking.

“A-ah! Aemond..! You make them sore when you do that,” you half whimpered, feeling an entirely different type of heat begin to pool between your thighs.

He tugged your nipples forward until they snapped out of his grasp, reveling the way your soft flesh rippled with the motion. “Then I shall kiss them all better.” He pinched them again, firmer this time, and rolled them anew.

You choked out a little sound and giggled. Reaching around your back, you grasped his now fully hardened length and slowly pumped along it. He exhaled the loveliest noise and you gripped him firmer. Stroking him, you turned your head to look back at him with half-lidded eyes. “I need you, husband, before our day’s duties begin.”

He caught your lips in a searing kiss and licked into your mouth with lustful hunger. His cock twitched when you moaned in response, returning his kiss with just as much fervor. Wasting no more time he gripped your waist and helped turn you around so you were facing each other. He looked up at you – the intense hue of his natural eye and his darkly beautiful sapphire stone – while gripping firmly onto the swells of your chest. “Ride me, wife. Show me how much you need your husband’s cock.”

With a shift of your hips you sunk down his length, your walls stretching wonderfully around him, until there was no more of him to take. You ground on him, bounced on him, and did it all again, until water sloshed out messily from the tub and the room filled with sounds of your shared pleasure.

All the while Aemond never gave your breasts rest. He laid his face between them, kissed them, suckled them, squeezed and pinched them. New lovebites decorated your tender flesh – pinks and purples and fading bitemarks – which he made sure to tenderly coat in oils before your ladies appeared to help you dress.

When all was said and done you both had little curls along your hairline. You kept yours with pride, whereas Aemond took extra time to smooth them out.

-

The day’s duties seemed as if they'd never end. All you wanted was your husband. If you had it your way you would say fuck his duties, fuck your duties, and laze about all day in bed with your dragon prince: eating cake, perfectly ripened fruit, and drinking sweet Arbor wine. All those little lovebites he left behind burned pleasantly reminding you of your shared bath. Warmth filled your lower belly as you became lost in those daydreamy memories. The rest of the day went by in a carnal haze.

Night had fallen and Aemond still hadn’t returned. 

What on earth was he up to?

Unsure of the night’s plans, you finally dismissed your last servant after they stoked the fire and added more wood to it. You sat in front of your vanity, now, slowly brushing braids out of your hair. You removed jewelry piece by piece and placed them in your jewelry box. As far back as you could remember you had a taste for shiny and pretty things. Even as a young girl you loved receiving a new necklace, or bracelet, or earrings instead of toys or other things for nameday gifts. As you grew older those tastes never wavered. After marrying Aemond he made sure to adorn you in the finest things. Pearls, emeralds, rubies. But, his favorite were sapphires. They become one of your favorites, too. 

It was quiet except for the fire’s crackle and with each passing minute you found yourself growing more drowsy. Just when you thought you might doze off while reading in bed, the heavy wooden door of your marriage chamber opened. “Husband! I thought I might not get to see you before sleep overcame me,” you said a little tiredly, whole face bright upon watching him close and latch the door. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Once you caught sight of his expression, however, your brows furrowed in worry. “What’s the matter?”

He sighed a long sigh, beginning to remove his clothing. “I had heard of Aegon and his growing… depravities, but I hadn’t expected them to be so… shameful. He disgraces our family name by what he does in the underbellies of Flea Bottom.”

You gulped. “What did you discover?”

Aemond shook his head while stepping out of his boots. “Nothing you need to fret about tonight.”

“I am Targaryen now too, and I wish to know what is happening,” you retorted.

“Not now. You say you missed me terribly? Well, I assure you I missed you more,” he said, walking in long easy strides to you on bare feet. He’d removed everything except his pants which were unlaced in the front. The casualness of it had your belly stirring, and the sight of his long, lean body flexing toward you had your thighs pressing together. “I didn’t have enough of you this morning…,” he rumbled against your mouth as he shadowed above you, gently pushing you onto your back once more. He laid on his side beside you, kissing you mouth again and again until your little tongue slid against his mouth. He groaned, deepening the affection, while his hand pushed up your thigh, tugging your shift up with him as he went.

“More? I’m not so sure about that,” you giggled, nipping at his lips. “Every little mark you left on me has been aching all day. A good ache. I’ve been needy for you all day, husband,” you purred, hooking one of your legs over his waist in an attempt to pull him closer into you.

He groaned somewhere deep in his chest and rolled atop you effortlessly, pinning one of your hands above you head as he loomed above you. The silver of his silky hair glowed with highlights of orange from the fire and candles in your room. His eye bore into your own, blazing, as a smirk etched itself across his angular features. “My good little wife has been aching and wet for me all day? My, my, darling…,” he crooned, kissing your jaw, neck, and throat. 

“You’re torturing me,” you said, desire flaring wildly in your core.

His free hand pushed your shift higher; thighs, smallclothes, belly, breasts, all revealing themselves to him. “Lean up and take this off,” he half growled. You did as you were told and in a flurry of motion he tossed it off the edge of the bed. “Your skin is loveliest covered in my marks,” he mused aloud as he tilted his head, inspecting the fullness of the front of your body. “My perfect girl.” His hand pushed up the front of you, splaying wide as to touch all of you that he could, fingertips grazing over your bitten and sucked flesh. He pressed down on those lovebites. Testing the bruises; testing you.

“Ah-h!” You gasped, squirming beneath him. “Not so hard!” You whined with pleading eyes.

A satisfied sound rumbled up from his chest. “So they are tender…,” he whispered, grinning, as he continued to gently push down into each bruise. “My poor girl,” he said, dipping his head low to kiss over each mark, now, making sure to pay extra attention to your pebbled nipples when he passed over them. “I had to make sure you were telling the truth. So far, half of what you said is true. As for the other…,” he mumbled around mouthfuls of your titflesh, greedy lips unable to leave your pretty nipples for long.

The pleasure of his mouth soon made you forget about the pain of his touch, but it was that pain that made your pleasure all the sweeter. You arched beneath him, free hand sliding down to card through his silken hair. “I think your wetnurse half starved you as a babe for how much you latch onto me,” you teased, sighing in bliss as he drew your nipples into his mouth, suckling and working his tongue over them.

“Must have,” he smirked, the stiffened peak of your nipple glossy with his saliva. Finally letting go of your wrist, both his hands lowered to untie the ribbons around your waist so he could tug your smallclothes down with no restraint. He did, and then he gently parted your legs. Between your thighs your sweet little cunt glistened with arousal. He couldn’t tell if his cock swelled to impossible hardness first, or, if his mouth watered first. “Look… at… you…,” he said slowly, possessive eye feasting on the sight of your bared cunny. 

“Aemond…,” you whined as blood rushed to warm your cheeks – the intensity of his gaze made you uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“You are lucky, my dear. Lying to your prince comes with severe punishment. You, by the grace of the Seven, have told the truth,” he said as he lowered to lay on his belly between your legs. He lifted one to gently hook over his shoulder and held the other down, keeping you nice and spread out beneath him. “If you were indeed sleeping when I returned tonight, I intended to wake you in this same manner,” he said as he looked up at you, the outside of his seeing eye crinkling with mischief. 

The warmth in your cheeks spread up to your ears, but before you could say anything in reply your husband dragged his tongue up through your eager folds. You moaned softly at the heat of his mouth, and he moaned at the taste that coated his tongue. He could never have enough of you: he told you often. “Gods- Aem-,” you whispered through shuddered breath.

It was impossible to say if you enjoyed this more, or if he did.

By now Aemond knew what you liked, how you liked it, and knew when to increase or ease his pressure on you. He learned wickedly fast – faster than you discovered your own pleasure some of the time – and strove for perfection, always wanting to be better than those around him. He licked, and lapped, and sucked, losing himself in the unique taste and texture of you. “You'd like to be woken up like this, wouldn't you?” He asked, slowly kissing and licking over your bud as to not push you too far too fast.

The thought alone made you squirm against him; cunny seeking to grind against the plushness of his mouth. “Y..yes,” you answered quietly.

“Mmm… I knew you would. I will have to try it one day. Licking and stroking this sweet cunt just enough to not wake you.”

You clenched at the idea knowing he meant it. “My cruel prince…”

He laughed lowly before delving into you again, tongue disappearing into your clenching center. Even around that little muscle you were tight. You always fit around him so perfectly. The sounds he made between your thighs were lewd. Dirty. Any other time or place you'd feel filthy. But with it being Aemond, the lasciviousness of it nudged you to the edge of your pleasure. One of his hands pushed up the front of your body and he palmed over a breast, squeezing the mound inside his palm. A finger of the other pressed into your soaking core while he lavished your clit with tongue and lip alike.

“I'm gonna– ‘m gonna..,” you moaned, whimpering as you rolled and ground your pelvis in time with all of his motions, seeking out more and more even though he was already giving you everything he knew you needed. Both hands flung down to his head and you shamelessly held him right there, fingers flexing and tugging at his hair. 

Aemond moaned against you. Early in your marriage you discovered his scalp was exceedingly sensitive and you loved using it to your advantage; whether he purred, or moaned, or whimpered.

“Let go, sweet wife. Give me your pleasure,” he mumbled against you, suckling gently on your pearl while working two fingers in and out of you, rubbing that small hidden patch of nerves with perfect precision. He squeezed your breast harder, pinching at your nipple, and the combination of everything became too much. You came undone against him. Orgasm washed over you in waves that left you weightless; the sounds of your release sent your husband rutting against the mattress.

“So good.. fuck that all felt so good,” you babbled down at him; heavy eyes darkened by lust and sparkling in adoration. 

Your praise sent Aemond's desire blazing to an inferno and he didn't even let you catch your breath before he kicked out of his pants and lined his cock up with you. “Such a needy greedy girl. Wet all day… humping my face like a bitch in heat… begging to be stuffed full by her husband again,” he growled lowly, pushing the underside of your leg up so it squished against your chest. “And all of that for me,” he said firmly, darkly, grinning down at you like a hawk swooping a bunny. With a flex of his slim, lean hips, he pushed into you.

You gasped, squeezing at his strong arms as he plunged into you. His name rolled off your tongue in yet another stuttering moan, eyelids fluttering with the force of his intrusion. You nodded wordlessly, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Mine… all fucking mine,” he said in that same tone, punctuating his words with long, firm thrusts. “My perfect wife. My wet cunt. Mine to fill, and use, and fill again.”

The force of his thrusts sent your tits bouncing. You cried out in bliss, your first orgasm making your body extra sensitive to his slamming hips. He drove home again, and again, and again, his balls slapping against you with every plunge. “Yes.. yes.. yes,” you babbled.

“So lovely like this. So beautiful when I fuck you. If only you could see yourself all dazed out on my cock,” his angle and pace changed and now he bullied that inner patch of nerves with each forward push and outward pull.

You wrapped your legs around his slender waist and pulled him deeper into you. “Right there,” you panted, nodding, sheened with sweat and glowing with delight. 

Both his hands squeezed and held onto your breasts, fucking you just as you asked him to. “Come with me. I want your cunny sucking my seed all the way to your pretty little womb,” he muttered, clearly holding himself back as long as he could.

That's all it took for you to find peak. Euphoria washed over you in glorious waves of ecstasy, making your body shudder and tremble around him. Your walls flexed and convulsed around his twitching cock in a visceral plea to finish deep inside.

Aemond didn't stand a chance. He groaned out your name and filled you passed the brim. Slowly his seed oozed out from around the base of his length while he kept it buried inside you, heavy drips of your combined essence sliding down the swell of your ass. You panted together, foreheads pressed together, and only began to pull apart once pleasure spent its course in both your bodies.

“You are the most enchanting thing,” Aemond whispered to you with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hold me as I sleep?” You asked with heavy eyes, already feeling tiredness creep over your senses.

He smiled, the expression intimately sweet, as he moved to lay on his side beside you. “Of course,” he answered, pulling you flush against him. With another quiet smirk he lifted your leg to rest over his waist and lowered a hand between your bodies. Carefully, he slipped two fingers into you. “Shh…,” he hushed when you made a noise of discomfort. “Only to keep my seed where it belongs.”

You blushed but didn't say, or do, anything in protest. “Sweet dreams, my prince.”

“Sleep well, my lady.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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[thelampisaflashlight]

Thinkin' 'bout ghoul teeth. Let's go.

-Aether has some serious chompers. His teeth are designed to crush and crack bone, but since he doesn't do a lot of that on the surface, he mostly gnaws on sticks or, well... bones.

The ghouls need their enrichment toys, and in Aeth's case, he needs something to wear down those saw blades of his.

If he doesn't blunt his teeth, his canines grow out of control and he winds up with little tusks, which isn't really an issue aesthetically, but it can make his mouth feel crowded and impede his ability to speak.

Also, it hurts, so... Yeah.

-Dew's teeth are the closest to human teeth than the other ghouls', which is largely because fire ghouls tend to be closer in likeness to humans in general.

Something about their biology aligns more with humanity's quirks, it's what makes them such good servants to the lord below, so good at mimicking the inhabitants of the surface...

Anyway, Dew's teeth are ever so slightly sharper around the canines, but that's about it.

Even pure fire ghouls like Alpha or Ifrit have more "human smiles" about their features, so it's not exclusive to Dew.

Funnily enough, this has resulted in an odd habit among fire ghouls; Their bites don't really hurt, so they nip at each other a lot, and biting is a pretty common form of greeting amongst pack members.

Fire ghoul parents also tend to carry their kits around in a similar fashion to cats or dogs, so their teeth being blunt helps prevent harming their babies.

-Rain's teeth are serrated and sharp.

They're made to rip and tear, but also to trap and pin prey.

The edges dig into flesh indiscriminately and cannot be pulled free from without causing serious damage; The serrations run opposite the tip of his fans, so they hook into the skin when he bites.

These types of teeth are more common in the salt water variant of water ghouls, who spend most of their time in deep water and have to latch onto their prey and prevent it from floating/swimming away.

Usually, if Rain bites someone on he surface, that's his way of asserting dominance, because no one, absolutely no one, is stupid enough to pull free or struggle when he sinks his teeth into them.

-Mountain's teeth are rather long and sharp, and made to pierce.

For some reason, earth ghouls' teeth are designed to draw blood, and some speculate -mostly easily frightened siblings of sin- that this is partially where some of the legends of vampires come from, because they certainly do have an interest in blood.

Mountain usually doesn't show off his teeth, but it is known that, compared to other earth ghouls, his are a bit duller, if only because he's needed some corrective work done due to a couple of his fangs growing in a little crooked and making it hard for him to eat and drink properly.

-Cumulus' teeth are little, needlelike things and so sharp you wouldn't know she'd bit you until the pin pricks of blood showed up a moment later.

Air ghouls seem to carry a sort of venom within their bodies that can be transferred via bite, and it leaves the victim feeling light and floaty.

Cumulus tends to avoid biting people.

And lastly;

-Multi ghouls usually have the teeth of whichever element is their dominant one; Water wins over fire, fire wins over earth, etc...

However, as is the case with most -if not all- human/ghoul hybrids, Swiss has a full set of human teeth, and it is haunting.

There's no subtle sharpness to them, they're uncannily human simply because they are.

Swiss' smile, unlike the mimicry of fire ghouls, IS human.

[squichymochi]

I wrote this piece around 2 AM today, and I’m still on the fence about it 😅. I might consider removing it later. Initially envisioned as a Soulmate Story featuring Vox and the Reader (Part 1 of 2 mayyyybe).

Warning: This story contains mentions of sexual intercourse, sexual parts, blood, curse words, and other typical elements found in Hazbin Hotel content. Reader discretion is advised.

Vox x Reader (Soulmates)

Word Count: 1.580

The world had always seemed cruel to Vox, a cosmic joke played at the expense of the naive. His life on Earth, even though marked by questionable choices, was shaped by a belief that the afterlife was nothing more than a farce.

And why should he care? According to the lore of soulmates, his was already dead.

Each person was born with a unique tattoo, a symbol of a destined other. But Vox's skin had been bare from birth, a silent testament to a soulmate lost before he even had the chance to dream. As it is said that the tattoo faded upon a soulmate's death, Vox grew up surrounded by whispers of pity and curiosity.

Did his soulmate die before he was born, was he one of the pity souls without a mate?

So when Vox awoke in Hell, transformed into a being more screen than flesh, the last thing on his mind was a faded fairytale. Furthermore it is said, that such a bond rarely survives the transformation from the living to the afterlife. He rose through the ranks, carving out his place as an overlord. He was one of the V’s, powerful, famous and deadly, a force to behold.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. During a heated moment with Valentino, something unexpected happened. The air was electric and Valentino leaned closer to Vox, his breath a mix of sweet venom and temptation. Some might say poison, for Vox it was sweet oblivion. Valentino purred sweet nothings while his hands were slowly sliding lower. The taller grabbed the corner of Vox frame and both dived into their bodily desires. Suddenly a searing pain erupted where his skin met the digital interface.

"What the hell!" Vox exclaimed, his voice a crackle of static as he forcefully shoved his partner away, the latter stumbling over his two feet, a look of surprise on his usually composed face which quickly turned into one of furry.

Vox face felt like it was burning from the inside out, an intense heat focused on the specific spot Valentino just touched. The other, recovering from the sudden push now wiped residue from his face, smearing it across his cheek"¿Qué mierda?" he growled looking at Vox his eyes turning into slits.

“The fuck did you do this time?!”, Vox growled his voice a mixture of pain and glitching sounds. He stumbled to the nearest reflective surface, his hands instinctively touching his face, expecting to find some kind of damage.

What the demon saw instead took his breath away. There, etched into the corner of his screen was a symbol glowing slightly blue against the digital backdrop of his own face. Vox's fingers traced the newly formed soulmate tattoo, his cool demeanor giving way to shock.

Dropping to his knees, Vox gazed at his reflection, did this mean he had a soulmate…in fucking hell? "This can't be true... what in the everlasting pits of hell!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, you awoke in Hell with a scream, pain coursing through your body. Gone were the wings that had once defined you, a sacrifice made in pursuit of a love believed lost. Biting your hand you tried to stifle your pained moans until you broke the delicate skin and tasted metal on your tongue. Clutching your angel blade, you tried your best to slowly raise and move forward.

As fast as you could, you ventured into the dark corners of Hell, shedding your celestial wardrobe for something more fitting your new, infernal life. As you adjusted a makeshift belt, hiding the blade within the folds of your clothes, a gruff voice interrupted your thoughts. "Hey, whore! Want some of old Gregg's pieces?" a giant snail-like creature grumbled from the shadows.

With a twitch of your eye, you spun around, your hand instinctively reaching for the hidden blade. "If you value your better parts, I suggest you kindly fuck off," you replied, your words wrapped in a veneer of politeness, belying the threat they carried.

The snail recoiled, mumbling, "Your loss, bitch," before retreating into the darkness. Trembling, you fought the urge to vomit, the reality of Hell's horrors crashing down upon you. *This better be worth it,* you thought, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bitch! This changes everything!" Velvette's voice was a shrill crescendo, echoing off the walls of the fancy and modern room. Her hands slammed down on the table with such force that Vox wouldn't have been surprised if she left imprints in the metal.

Vox, his screen flickering with a mixture of irritation and disbelief, replied with measured calmness, "This changes nothing. The possibility of having a soulmate now doesn't mean I'll suddenly become a lovestruck fool." His words were a growl, a digital rumble that resonated in the smoky air.

Valentino, lounging nonchalantly next to them, took a long drag of his cigarette. The pink smoke curled lazily around them, creating a haze that seemed to blur the lines of reality. "Mhh, didn't seem like it yesterday while I was wiping your seed off my mouth. You were tumbling to the next possible surface your cock still half hard and your body trembling in fear," he quipped, a sly smile playing on his lips, his golden tooth catching the light in a glint of mockery.

"You son of a—," Vox began, his anger boiling over, but his screen glitched, forcing him back into a facade of control. "This means nothing. They mean nothing. I've already commissioned someone to take care of them," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Yet, to anyone observing closely enough, there was a flicker of something else behind his stern expression – a hint of confusion, a shadow of sadness that he was too proud to show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, as you moved through the infernal landscape of Hell, pain and determination were your constant companions. The idea of finding your soulmate was a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. You needed to warn them of Heaven's new plans.

The revelation of your soulmate had come as a shock in Heaven. Had you believed that they were already dead while living on earth. The sight of the headphone tattoo on your wrist, reminding you of your earthly passions, had ignited a spark of excitement when arriving in heaven. But the seraphim's pitying look quickly doused that flame.

They had showed you. Seeing him in Hell, a digital demon ruling with three other overlords, your world had turned upside down. A soulmate in Hell meant a love that could never be. 

But Chalrie’s revelation of Hell's extermination had changed everything. You had to act; you had to save your soulmate. Now, as a fallen being, you were determined to reach him, to save what little was left of your heart and his life.

Every step in Hell was a battle, each breath a reminder of the sacrifice you had made. But it was a sacrifice you were willing to bear. For a soulmate you didn't know was worth the trouble. For a chance at a love that might still survive in the depths of Hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vox zipped through the surveillance network, until he materialized in his headquarters. With a heavy, resonant sigh, he collapsed into his office chair. The weight of the revelation hung over him like a dense cloud.

"Shit," he muttered to himself, the word a static-laced hiss in the quiet of the room. The notion of a soulmate had upended his world.

In Hell, such connections were rare, almost mythical. Usually such bonds only connected the living on earth one said. They were powerful, yes, but also dangerously vulnerable - a leverage point that could be exploited by his enemies.

But as much as he was reluctant to admit it, he didn't want harm to come to his soulmate. The problem was, he had no idea what to do next. Lost in thought, he turned his head to the left, only for his screen to glitch violently, sending a ripple through the layers of Hell, ending in a short blackout.

"What the fuck!" The words slipped out in a whisper as everything flickered back to life, revealing the image of a figure decimating his security team. An angelic blade gleamed in their hand.

His processors strained as he watched them. They moved with a lethal grace, cutting down one after the other, hurting but not killing them. Then, in a bold, almost defiant gesture, they looked directly into the camera, hood falling back to reveal their face. A face that stopped Vox's non existent heart one would say.

They were stunning, their eyes meeting his through the lens, a middle finger raised in a gesture of rebellious challenge.

In less than a second, Vox was standing before them, his form materializing out of the digital ether. "Do you know, little one, who the fuck I am?" he growled, his voice a blend of menace and awe.

"Yes indeed, I am your soulmate, and I'm here to kick your ass and save your pathetic life, asshole," you retorted, a grin playing on your lips that bordered on madness.

Vox couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration, his circuits firing in a way they hadn't in eons. This was the most thrilling encounter he'd experienced in both his life and afterlife.

And then you collapsed into his arms, your back covered in blood. “Shit!”, he said before taking you home, where you belonged from now on.

As always thank you guys for reading ❤️

[golvio]

It was a bit of whiplash going from The Damsel to The Beast, particularly since the jumping off point I picked was stabbing her when she was gnawing her arm off (you very pointedly ignore that instead of recoiling in disgust to lock in Damsel or Witch). However...in retrospect, it kind of makes sense that the Damsel, Witch, and Beast routes can branch off of the same place.

All three routes deal with themes of dehumanization. Damsel is dehumanization through idealization, where she remains person-shaped, but loses a lot of what made her "her" in Chapter 1 in favor of being someone who could "make you happy." Witch is dehumanization through contempt or exploitation, where you either consciously betray her or just give up on her as soon as the Narrator pushes back, and she takes on some of the Beast's features but still remains partly human. With the Beast, it's total dehumanization through the reflexive disgust response brought on by seeing her gnaw her own limb off like a trapped animal. You get a glimpse of her as something other than human, and you become fixated on that, totally rejecting her until you mold her into something that's just as inhuman as you think she is. If you double down, she eventually becomes so dehumanized by the feedback loop of your treatment of her that she fully becomes an animal and loses the ability to speak.

That's why I think it's important that the two ways that the Beast seems to end on a more positive note (barring the secret ending you're unlikely to get the first time where you pick the exactly correct set of choices that get you to free her while playing dead) is by either her forcing you to understand her by "making you a part of her" (by eating you, which later causes you to "become her" so much that the two of you reintegrate into The Wild), or by you trying to talk to her once she becomes The Den and gets trapped in the little burrow leading upwards. Instinct alone can keep you alive, and territorial aggression can vanquish a predator, but it can't break the cycle of violence you've trapped yourselves in. Only reason and compassion can do that. You have to get in touch with your own humanity again to help her get in touch with hers.

There's also this theme of "regression"/"neglect" in her cabin. Her Chapter II cabin changes the least compared to the other Princess', but its change is marked by abandonment and decay as the cabin is reclaimed by nature and worn down by the elements. The wooden beams are beginning to fall apart with and termites have crept in to eat the table. It's as if the "default" cabin and the Princess herself are abandoning their humanity. In the Den, the cabin regresses to a crude Flintstones-style hut made of rocks or earth, and the table fully regresses to the stump of the fallen tree its wood was presumably harvested from. The Princess, too, regresses to a more primal form, losing her ability to speak and becoming a creature of pure appetite and predatory aggression.

In Chapter II, Beast gets a "nicer enclosure" in the basement more suited to her new form's needs, but in Chapter III, even though the exterior of the Den's cabin becomes a proper jungle, the room she's in becomes a dark pit completely devoid of light that she can't escape, filled with mold and decay, with her body becoming emaciated now that she's capable of starving, as she's become painfully aware of her own appetites. She becomes like a neglected exotic pet, left to waste away in the corner of a cramped, filthy cage. The tips of her new antlers are covered in blood, as if she's shedding velvet or they erupted suddenly and painfully from her own forehead, suggesting this transformation was a painful one.

It's...unnerving to see her become this. Even if she's more powerful, the only way she has to communicate with us is through her eyes. The only way she can think of to get us to let her out of the cabin is by devouring us. It's not even that she's actually hungry for our flesh, it's just that she wants to leave together, because she knows she can't leave alone. That urge to connect with us is still there, that need to make a bond of trust is still required for her to leave, it's just all warped by how inhuman we've made her.

It's also interesting to see that you can get to The Wild through either the Beast or the Witch. I didn't fully commit to Wild yet, as I'm saving that for a later playthrough where I knock out a lot of Chapter IIIs I didn't get to see during my first two times, but I think it'd make the most sense for me to approach it from the Beast's chapter, both through the themes of consumption/absorption, but also because it'll give me an opportunity to talk to her and gain new insights, given that she's not as talkative while she's trying to hunt you the first time around.

[thekingofwinterblog]

So just a bit of Rumiko's originally planned color scheme i have never seen anyone comment on.

Ryoga's entire assemble was originally supposed to be very glaring pink, whoch has several meaning in Japanese, as it's speciffically a very masculine color... But with a twist.

In Japanese, Pink is the color of Sakura, and in terms of masculinity, is used to symbolize Samurai who died before their time, in the prime of their lives.

Which you could easily connect to Ryoga's feelings that his life effectively came to a premature end at Jusenkyo.

Meanwhile, Shampoo's most notable different feature is that she was originally meant to have scarlet hair.

Now this is of course a reference to the fact that Shampoo, more than any of the other of Ranma's love interests represents war, fighting, ruthlessnes and martial arts.

In the context of Japan, it also is the color of authority, happiness and strength.

It is also meant to be a clear cut contrast to Lum, the Heroine of Rumiko's first hit series, from whom Rumiko took a lot of inspiration, but ultimately made her a mirror of, as defined by Shampoo's red, to Lum's generally green.

As for Ranma's design, while there is of course the more notable fact that Manga ranma always had black hair regardless of form, there is also the original color of Ranma's famous amrtial arts uniform, which rather than the familiar red and black/blue se all know and love, was instead a very distinct orangish yellow.

Rather than any symbolism, thia is instead a reference to one of Ranma's contemporaries/predessecors, Dragon ball, as Manga Goku's Kame Gi as shown on the cover above, is almost the exact same shade, much brighter than it's animated counterpart.

Overall, Rumiko just loved this color scheme in general, as a lot of art has ranma in orange duds.

Its even the main color on the final volumes of the series.

Similar to Shampoo, Ukyo also has an element of red that was dropped in the anime, in the form of her ribbon, the trim of her short, but also her lipstick and Eyeliner.

It also symbolizes strength, power and war... But in a much more subdued manner, as while Ukyo is just as monstrously strong as Shampoo(With word of god estimating her raw, brute strength on the level of Ryoga, though lacking his monstrous durability), she lacks Shampoo's comfortable with violence, nudity and such, with her loss against Ranma in large part due to feelings of personal emberassment at her own nudity that Shampoo has never shown.

She also in general just lacls Shampoo's comfortable with true, murderous violence as the go to answer to her problems.

Hence while it was meant to be a defining color on Shampoo, on Ukyo it was meant to be a very small yet noticable aspect of her coloring.

It is also the color of sacrifice, and more than anyone of Ranma's finacee's, Ukyo is willing to change herself if it means winning Ranma's heart.

Later down the line, this red color would also link her to her introduced at the last minute love interest Konatsu, who wore red in general.

Also, speaking of character who never got the animated treatment in the original series, Ryo Kumon stands out as not only was he given a color scheme by Rumiko, but his color scheme was speciffically influenced by the Animated color scheme of Nodoka as having purple hair, in order to contrast him with Ranma as looking far more similar to Nodoka than her flesh and blood son.

Its an interesting choice as manga Nodoka had black hair, which meant Rumiko specifficaly chose this color design to make the similarity between him and Nodoka much more obvious for when the arc was adapted for the screen(Which didn't end up happening in the first anime).

[ri47]

I've always thought of pygmalions as looking like mecha sized flood infection forms, what do they actually tend to look like?

A pygmalion can vary in shape a good bit, being a fleshcrafted construct, although you can group most into three categories. These aren't comprehensive, because there are already a few that fall outside of these categories, but they are generally the ones you see

Loose Gore Configuration - Kinda self-explanatory, but that's more or less what you're thinking of here. These tend to be the result of pygmalions made from clonestock made specifically to be fodder for lesser pygmalions (ie jackals and thralls) or other sources where the component souls don't really have a strong (or any) developed sense of self. A pygmalion's form is defined in part by the plurality of its internal contradictions and substantiations, so the form tends to be less coherent when the totality of its being is a resounding ambivalence to the world. These ones are usually encased in armour that gives them a shape. Additionally, those considerations often including a cage for the non-vessel pilot, to buy them time for rescue in the event the pygmalion turns and attempts to rip them out. Loose Gore pygmalions can in many cases be identical to other constructs, such as necromatrices, because Ayin/Azoth/Divine Flesh that isn't given shape will default towards a purpose-fulfilling shifting mass of gore

Borovit Configuration - This is the form of the vast majority of true pygmalions and the one that is most immediately recognisable as a mecha. They trend towards looking humanoid, but usually show signs of insectoid anatomy. Borovit configuration pygmalions come in a range of body types and forms, not to mention various sizes, but most could, for example, pick up and utilise a sword designed to-scale with them. It's worth mentioning that some lesser pygmalions land on a gradient between Borovit and Loose Gore, but for a pygmalion to qualify as the former, they need to maintain a consistent physical form with an internal configuration (what exactly is inside can vary, be it pseudo-organs, bones, muscles, or what have you) that is capable of regenerating to its original form provided there is sufficient ferrous humor.

Velnias Configuration - Velnias pygmalions resemble enormous non-human animals, yet still maintain the sort of anatomical structures you would expect to see on a Borovit pygmalion. They tend towards looking like avians and reptiles, but it's not uncommon to see one that leans more towards arthropod features. More rare, but not unheard-of, are Velnias pygmalions with aquatic or mammalian forms. Unlike Borovit, Velnias configurations sometimes manifest in lesser pygmalions with no element of ambiguity towards Loose Gore. What exactly leads to a Velnias pygmalion is unclear, with some theories being that they're the result of strong emotions in sacrificed souls without articulate beliefs, but that's not exactly substantiated in any meaningful way. Velnias pygmalions seemingly cannot be made on purpose.

[hyuckkaiji]

winds whisper naught but the truth // nct dream x f!reader

chapter one; to dream a dream of all that is yet to come

masterlist

summary; the thing about myths, those stories passed from generation to generation with hushed whispers over a fire, is that they stem from truth. even distorted over time it still holds some of the sincerity at it's core. people that have otherworldly abilities walk the same earth as you, hidden in plain sight, ruling society without everyone knowing. but stories are just stories ... until they're not, until they're seven boys who you are suddenly entertwined with, flesh and soul.

word count; 1.5k

warning; ch; swearing, alluding to violence; series; violence, emotional manipulation, trauma, violent magic???

note; this was inspired by the smoothie trailers and icantfeelanything photobook. this is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the boys, pls remember that 😭✋️

The water reflected the colors of the sky, falsely painting itself in shades of orange. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but no matter how hard the water tries to mimic its mirrored counterpart, water is still water. It can mold into any shape or form it is forced into, play the part it was given, fit where it is wanted but it only takes the smallest amount of pressure to break the illusion, the water rippling and splashing in response, a reminder of what it is. If you were an element, you think you’d be water.

Perhaps that’s where your affinity for the element came from, or maybe it was the gentle beauty of it or maybe, just maybe, the violence it ensued despite its nature. Even in its gentlest form, soft waves cradling you in its cold embrace, it takes so little for a person to drown, so little for water to take the life it is attempting to nourish.

Sometimes you wonder if death would be a gentle embrace, would it cradle you like the water? Would it caress you like the wind? Warm you like the fire? Or would it be harsh and abrupt, like the earth crumbling from beneath your feet without warning?

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to shake away your thoughts of death. You closed your eyes, using your knees as a makeshift pillow. But the darkness that danced behind your eyelids was no friend to you, almost instantly transforming into the very image you were trying to escape, the very dream that has plagued you night after night.

The boy came into view first, as he always did. He was beautiful to look at, so much so that at times you tried to prolong this part of the dream just to fully take in his features. You never could, prolong it, the dream played out the same everytime, but by now you’ve had it so often you have every dip and curve of the strangers face memorized.

His face was soft and you liked to imagine, inviting, under different circumstances. He has full round cheeks and plush lips that look like they were made to smile. You wanted to see it, his smile, you bet it could light up a room. But all you saw was the grimace he tried to fight off, the crack that traced down his lip, begging to open back up with a fresh well of blood, the way his undereyes were dark and sunken in despite being clearly well fed, the hard look in his eyes. A stare so cold it made you uncomfortable despite it not being directed your way, no, the boy wasn’t staring at you, he was watching the man across from him.

They sat in a cold empty room with steel flooring and glass walls, each them sat on a steel chair of their own. The boy watched the man, the look of disdain heavy in his eyes, the man didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead opting to stare at his lap, sniffling and mumbling to himself, words you couldn’t make out.

A voice echoed out from an unseen speaker, “Now.” The boy's lip twitched at the command, he looked as if he wanted to refuse but his body seemed to work on muscle memory, responding to the voice immediately. He stood swiftly, making his way before the older man and kneeling before him. Only then did the man look at him but as soon as their eyes met, the man’s sniffling turned to sobs. His words absolutely incoherent as the boy finally spoke, “It will be alright.” His voice was soft and deep, the kind of voice that soothed.

The man’s sobs quieted back down to sniffles, then to deep breathes, and then nothing. He straightened his back, rolling his shoulders before he spoke, “Now get away.” He regarded the boy as if he was lower than the dirt beneath his shoes but the boy said nothing, only stood and retreated back to his seat.

The dream always ended the same way. You didn’t understand why. Why you dreamt this dream, what it meant, who the boy was. They were questions you were begging the universe for answers to.

ᯓ𖹭

Jaemin sat stiffly, his fists bunching the fabric of his pants so tightly his knuckles turned white. He attempted to steady himself with deep inhales through his nose, attempting to keep his overwhelming emotions at bay, keep the tears from escaping. He stared blankly, unseeing at the wall before him, habitually tuning out the conversation happening around him.

“Mr. Na.” The woman’s stern voice broke his trance, his eyes trailing away to meet hers. She leaned closer, looking into his eyes with such intensity it made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t move, he let her continue her search in silence. After what felt like agonizing hours, the woman hummed her approval, straightening her back and dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“He is maintaining control over his emotions.” Jaemin wanted to roll his eyes, to scoff, to scream and rage, to throw something, anything, he wanted to do anything that they weren’t expecting of him, anything to show he didn’t belong to them. But he knew the consequences, perhaps better than most in his opinion, so instead, all he did was ball his fists at his side and bow his head as he was escorted back to the common area.

The day went by slow and monotonous, everything was muscle memory, a daze his body was living through. He could account the day if he was asked, but really it was merely half processed scenes that his eyes witnessed while his mind was lost in his anger. Truly that’s how he spent everyday, his mind trying to form an escape for him, to build him his own safe haven but everyday it failed. What was there to build, or imagine, when all you knew was fear and anger. He wanted to experience these ideas that, objectively, he knew existed but he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Was it objective? Surely not everyone lives the same way he does, he’s been told about the lives of the mundanes. They all have, they’re taught about them, but no matter how much he knows that they exist and live such different lives he still can’t seem to wrap his head around something he’s never even seen.

Is it something he wants to see? He doesn’t feel as if he happy but what if he’s not meant to be. Really, truly, he shouldn’t be thinking about mundane. They’re beneath him, simple minded creatures with no sense of structure that would be lost without the guidance of the divines. Right ?

Yes, of course it’s right. That’s what he’s been taught, but still, he wants to witness it for himself. It’s not as if he’s going to run away, he doesn’t want to live amongst people like that. Structure and order make the world go round. Everyone has their place in society, everything would collapse if people just decided to forgo their roles based on whims.

But he’s not forgoing anything, he’s not abandoning his role, he’s just exploring, for a night, one night. No one needs to know but him, he’s really not doing anything wrong, just loosing a little sleep.

At least that’s what he told himself as he pretended to sleep, waiting for the night guards to retire to their posts before climbing out a window.

ᯓ𖹭

Jaemin was severely questioning himself as he wandered through the woods that surrounded his boarding school, he wondered how long it would take him to reach town by foot and if he would even get a glimpse of another person before he had to go back. He only had the darkness on his side, he needed to be back in bed before the sun rose. He walked and walked and walked until he doubted he would even see the town at this rate , time was fleeting and his feet could only take him so far.

But just as he started to feel that familiar tinge of disappointment in his chest, he spotted a house in the distance, making him freeze where he stood. This was what he wanted, right? He felt almost like a giddy child, but still his nerves were on edge. He slowly made his way closer, cautious but his curiosity driving him forward.

As he drew nearer, the house came into better view, it was a quaint two story cottage, built of pale wood and an array of stones, accented with blue paint in certain parts. It was lovely in a way Jaemin had never seen before, if someone had described it to him, he would have called it proof of the mundane’s lack of order, but to see it before him, it held a warmth and inviting presence unlike anything he knew.

They say, curiosity is the death of obedience, these thoughts were a sickness that plagued the minds of children, something that needed to be taught out of them. But now in this moment, he couldn’t help himself, he needed to see the house closer, it’s not as if any of the residents would be awake at this hour to see him wander their property, to hear the way the twigs and leaves crunched beneath his feet. No one would ever know he was there.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Two

CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, poc whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), use of restraints

Thank you Marz, Gen, and Beck for beta reading <3

Word Count: 2,406 Previous Next

Dani’s feet skipped beneath her as she ran to the other side of the kitchen. Behind her, the man pulled himself up from the wall, still rubbing at his jaw. She had maybe a minute before the shock wore off and he’d catch up with her.

She ran up to the other girl in the cabin, frantic.

The girl was pressing herself back against the counter, breathing heavily, eyes wild and terrified. It hadn’t registered to Dani yet that it might be because of her.

“What are you doing?” Dani demanded, panting. “Run!”

The girl looked at her like she was crazy. It was only when they were in such close proximity to each other that Dani could make out the blonde of her eyebrows, the rosiness in her cheeks. Her piercing blue eyes.

The same features of the man, just arranged differently on her face.

Dani backed away from her, now realizing her mistake. Of course the girl wouldn’t run. Why would she? She was clearly part of the man’s family.

The man started to move forward, and Dani knew it was time to go.

The front door slammed into the wall as Dani yanked it open, swinging as she bounded down the wooden steps leading off the porch. She ran down the dirt driveway and quickly turned to see how far behind her he was, taking in the sight of the small wood cabin she’d just run from. The man rested against the frame of the front door, looking out at her. Blonde hair peeked out from behind him. “Let her run.” Dani barely made out. “She won’t get far.”

Dani staggered to the treeline, still staring behind her, before finally turning back around to run. She didn’t have time to wait for him to follow her. The sun was already starting to set, golden light washing over the woods ahead of her, and she had no idea where the fuck she even was to begin with. She would probably get lost. But being lost in the woods was a lot better than whatever was waiting for her back at that cabin.

It was only a few minutes in when Dani wished she had her shoes. Somewhere between the parking garage and the cabin, she’d lost them. God knows why he’d taken them off of her. Maybe he didn’t want her tracking dirt around his study. Maybe he had a sick perversion for feet. The reason wasn’t important. What was, however, was now she was lacking a very vital form of protection against the elements. No shoes, no socks. Just her bare feet scraping across the various twigs and little stones strewn across the ground in front of her.

Dying sunlight peeked through the trees as Dani continued through. The birds screamed as she passed through, flying up from the brush and into the trees. Her feet were raw. Her ankles were itching like mad. Her chest felt like it was on fire. It was becoming apparent how truly lost she was. There was no end in sight to the trees. There was nothing to follow, no landmarks, nothing to take note of as she ran.

If he didn’t find her, would anyone?

A tree branch floated in Dani’s path. She pushed past it and began to step forward.

A jolt of red-hot pain pulsed through Dani’s legs, sending her careening towards the ground. She couldn’t help the scream that ripped out of her throat as she hit the ground, grasping for the source of the pain. Her ankles were hot to the touch, inflamed and pulsating. She gripped onto one of them as she laid face down in the dirt, gasping for air. The sensation continued, the shocks unrelenting. As Dani’s hands clamped around her ankle, she could feel a small, almost undetectable bump under the hot flesh, a bump that hadn’t been there before. Gasping, Dani let go of her ankle and pushed it away from her.

The shocks stopped.

Dani laid there, staring down at the leg she had just pushed away from her, face burrowed in soil and rotting leaves, stupefied. Her ankle still burned with the aftershock, the muscles of her lower legs cramped and aching, but the source of the pain had simply… stopped. Dani began to pull her ankle back towards her, and as she did, the painful sensation came back to life. She shoved her leg away, and again, the sensation stopped.

What the hell?

She knew she couldn’t stand, as any time Dani pulled her legs towards her, the shocks came back. Tears pricked in Dani’s eyes. This couldn’t be it. She’d tried too hard for this to be the end.

As she began to bury her face into the earth to stifle the keening noise that’d begun to come out of her mouth, she could hear the sound of rumbling in the distance getting closer and closer.

No.

No, no, no.

Eventually, the rumbling of the pickup truck’s engine cut out, and the sound of one of its doors slamming echoed throughout the woods. The birds stopped screaming. Footsteps crunched through the brush, making their way towards her. Eventually, the footsteps reached the clearing, stopping right beside her.

“Are you proud of yourself?” The man asked.

Dani said nothing as she turned her head to look over at him. He stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows cocked as he stared down at her prone form. She could only imagine how pitiful she looked, face down in the dirt, with muddy cheeks from where the dirt and her tears mixed. She quickly wiped her face, sniffing.

“You weren’t very successful, you know. Only got about a mile out before you hit the fence line.” He looked past her, sighing.

Fence line?

As the man reached down to grab her leg, Dani began kicking wildly to avoid his hands, stopping only when another shock hit her ankle. “What am I gonna do with you?” He muttered, wrapping his hand around the bottom of her calf. Her skin burned where he touched her.

As the man pulled her towards him, the movement shifted Dani from her shoulder onto her back, her head bouncing against the earth as he dragged her forward. “You know,” he said, grunting. “I think there’s a lesson to be learned here. And I’m getting the feeling you only learn with experience.” He twisted her around so her foot was just over where she’d been laying, her back a few feet behind it. “You see, years ago, I had an electric fence dug around the property for situations just like this. Now, you don’t got a collar on or nothin’ to set it off, then you could just find a way to take it off, but I found another means to get the same reaction.” He fondled the skin around her ankle, and as he did, a small lump rolled around under his fingertips.

Son of a bitch.

“It seems like you already found out what happens when you step onto the fence line, but I think it’d be good for the both of us if we revisited that.”

Before Dani could say a word, the man was already dragging her back over the spot where she had fallen. Try as she might, the scream that ripped out of her throat once her leg made contact with the fence couldn’t be stopped. The fire erupting from her ankle traveled up her leg and hips and into her chest, burning everything in its path. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe. Her attempts to crawl back from the spot were unsuccessful, as the man’s hold on her ankle was too strong for her to break. She could feel her body begin to flail from the pain, her arms smacking down onto the ground.

Before long, the man pulled her leg off of the fence line. Dani gasped for air as the sensation stopped, going still. Dropping her leg, the man walked to her side, bent down, and quietly said, “Next time you run, I’m leaving you out here.”

Dani laid there for a moment, panting for air, as the man stayed crouched beside her.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?”

Dani swallowed, nodding.

“And what’ll happen if you try something like this again?”

Dani said nothing. The man began to reach for her leg again. “You’ll leave me out here,” Dani croaked, throat raw from screaming.

“Damn right, I will.” The man glanced behind him and sighed. “It’s getting dark. We better get movin’.”

As the man dug his arm under her legs and back to lift her up, Dani squirmed, uncomfortable from the proximity. The man gave her a scathing look. She stopped squirming. He hoisted her off the ground like she was nothing, carrying her through the brush towards the bed of his red pickup truck. Dani did her best to resist leaning her body against his as he carried her, but there was only so much distance she could put between the two of them while she was in his arms. He was probably strong enough to outpower her physically, if it came to it. Definitely strong enough to toss Dani into the bed of his truck like she was a sack of potatoes.

Dani swore to herself as she hit the truck bed with a resounding thud, curling in on herself once she was in it. She’d fucked up. She had one chance, and she had managed to fuck it up. She should’ve noticed that something weird was going on with her legs. Then she could’ve done something about it, before she decided to make a run for it and effectively fuck up any shot she could’ve had at freedom.

The truck rumbled as it started, and soon it was pulling out of the trees and down the beaten dirt road it drove up on. Dani almost had the mind to throw herself out of the truck bed, but didn’t in the interest of less pain. It didn’t matter. The drive decided to throw her around the truck bed anyways.

It felt like forever when the truck finally pulled to a stop. She could hear the ignition turn off and the keys jingle as they left the key fob before the eventual click and swing of the truck door opening. Dani nearly jumped out of her skin as the door slammed shut, scrambling to sit up before he got to the back of the truck.

When the tailgate swung open, he was there, offering his hand.

“What are you doing?” Dani asked, eyeing his hand in disgust.

“Offering you a hand down.” The man said. “Unless, of course, you’d like to brave the way down yourself.”

Dani glanced down the foot of the truck bed. The drop to the ground was steep, probably too steep for her to jump down onto without her knees buckling. If she fell now, there was no guarantee he’d help her back up.

She took his hand.

The contact was brief, but it made her skin crawl all the same.

As soon as Dani’s feet settled onto the dirt, the man pulled his hand away from hers and started walking back to the cabin. When Dani didn’t follow, he turned around and said, “What, did you think I was gonna help you walk the rest of the way back? You ran out on your own two feet, surely you can walk back on them.”

Asshole, Dani thought to herself as she took a tentative step forward. Her ankles practically screamed as she moved, threatening to give out the further she walked. She took another wobbling step. And another. Every step was hell, but all Dani could do was grit her teeth and keep moving.

Moving got easier once she reached the stair railing that led up to the cabin porch, but hurt more as she pulled herself up the steps. One ankle finally gave out on her when she hit the second step, nearly sending her hurdling down the steps before she threw her body onto the railing. The man said nothing as it happened. He just watched her from the top of the steps, patient as a saint.

When she reached the door frame, she caught a quick glimpse of the girl from before before she disappeared behind the hall wall. The only thing Dani could make out from her were the slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the wall and the wave of hair that hung out from beyond it. Behind Dani came the man, who crossed the cabin within a few strides and stood at the doorway of the study they came from minutes ago, expectant. She limped her way over to him, and then past the doors. The man led her back to the ring in the floor and gestured toward it. “Sit down.” He told her, poking at her ankle with his boot.

Dani trembled as she sat on the floor next to the ring. She should be fighting back, but then what? There was nowhere to run, no escape she’d be able to find tonight. The man clamped the cuff around her ankle, produced the key from around his neck, and locked it into place. “You know, things would’ve been so much easier for you if you hadn’t decided to run.”

“Had to try,” Dani grumbled as the man let go of her ankle.

He didn’t even acknowledge her as he made his way to the door. “We’ll be seeing each other in the morning,” was all he said before shutting and locking the double doors behind him. The lights followed him, plunging Dani into darkness.

She couldn’t help herself as the tears began to pour down her dirty cheeks. She laid herself down onto the floor and curled into a ball, letting the tears run off her face and into her tangled curls. What the hell was she gonna do now? She couldn’t run with whatever the fuck was in her ankles, and she was in the middle of nowhere. Dani had gotten herself into enough situations to know which ones she could and couldn’t get out of on her own. She wasn’t getting out of this one by herself.

Dani hiccuped with sobs. She knew no one was coming. She was going to die here, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @lektricwhump, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps,

[wol-fica]

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋𝟠-

pairings - wednesdayaddams x fem!elemental!reader

summary - you had feelings, big feelings, and they get the best of your logical decisions

warnings - kissing, fluff, happy wednesday <333333

an - this was really amazing and cute omg

—————————

Wednesday Addams.

Her name was a statement in and of itself, an alluring force to be reckoned with. She was known to be an emotionless, dull, gruesome individual who didn’t give two shits about anyone or anything.

You met her in sophomore year at Nevermore, in botany class. Sitting two seats to the right and one seat up, she was definitely something— her posture straight as a board and her stare just as hard; she had what your dad called “omph”.

Now that “omph” she had, caught your attention; Wednesday was incredibly attractive, her features being almost perfect in your eyes. Someone had told you once that love at first sight wasn’t real, just a fairy tale told by your parents to make you feel better about your future; but when you saw Wednesday, that whole perspective changed.

She made your heart run a mile a minute, your breath hitch at her presence, your stomach fluttering with butterflies as she spoke; she had you wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it.

Or did she?

See, Wednesday was someone who hated love, the whole concept of it. Her parents sappiness and public affections had pushed down all of the complexities she could have acquired; instead she is an empty, black canvas.

But for some odd reason, that canvas was changing. Bursts of color had begun to appear, in rapid strokes that splattered around the whole expanse; a painting was being formed within the depths of her heart.

Wednesday was no fool to attraction, she was aware of the feeling. There have been many guys and girls who have caught her eye for a second longer than most, but she’s never been interested in pursuing them. Dating seemed like a waste of time to her, and she could never see herself as being someone else’s girlfriend.

That was until she met you.

You.

You were quite the ubiquitous person, always awake and present whenever anyone spoke to you. A smile was almost always etched onto your face, small dimples could be seen on your cheeks when you grinned.

Wednesday liked your smile, it was a refreshing sight for her. She sometimes would catch herself just gazing at you, her black eyes droopy and hazy as she soaked in the sunny glow you produced; you were her muse.

Soon she realized she was hooked, infatuated with your presence. Your poise and posture was well kept and strong, something that got Wednesday’s heart to stutter, and you were very very serious about your hygiene, in which got her feeling all woozy.

It was the simple things that got her interested, and it was when she decided to sit with you at lunch that you both started into a talking phase.

Your personalities fitted together like puzzle pieces, slotted to finish the final portrait. Gift giving was a love languages you had, one Wednesday had to get used to, and you abused it SO much when you were beginning to be with her.

You had once bought her a pitch-black obsidian handled knife with your initials carved into the side. The blade was made from steel and bone, sharped to be able to slice through flesh like it was butter.

Wednesday asked you to be her girlfriend the next day.

Your relationship skyrocketed to heaven, clouds surrounding you both in your little grey bubble of love. The two of you were so compatible that even Enid was slightly concerned on why you two had never met before.

“Seriously Y/N, it’s so crazy how soft she is with you.” She said one day over breakfast as you watched Wednesday go to get you your favorite food, “I’m slightly worried that you hypnotized her.”

You laughed, shaking your head while turning back to Enid, “I think she is just different with me than with you.”

Enid scoffed, sipping her orange juice daintily as she rolled her eyes. A large, raw steak sat in front of her, untouched and awaiting to be devoured.

“Does she talk murder tactics with you?” She asked, picking up her fork and knife to cut the meat, “Has she told you about shampoo torture?”

“Yep, and the wonderful ways to attack all human nerves at one time.” You replied, smirked at Enid as you both said the answer.

“Lava Bath.”

You both giggled, your voices carrying to where Wednesday stood in the breakfast line. The sound of your laughter filled her ears, and she couldn’t help but quirk a small smile. She loved your voice; the light, summer-y sound was soothing to her.

After grabbing a plate of food, some utensils, and a glass of chocolate milk, she made her way back to where you and Enid. were seated. Her black eyes were trained onto you, carefully watching your every move.

“Oh thank you!” You said happily, taking the plate from her.

“You’re welcome.” She replied whilst placing your drink and utensils down, “I never knew a person could be addicted to french toast, of all dishes.”

You chuckled, bumping your shoulder against hers after she sat down next to you. Her head tilted at the gesture, but she stayed silent and basked in the calmness of your conversation with Enid about how you can control the elements.

“So is it like a feeling? Or a will?”

“No,” You started, sipping your chocolate milk, “It’s more like an understanding between each creature.”

Wednesday buried her nose into her arm, exhaustion clouding over her as she attempted to stay awake. Due to a boring yet long study session, she did not get her usually 6 hours of sleep and instead took a 30 minute nap and stayed up for the rest of the night.

A warm hand rested on her back, rubbing comforting circles into her spine. She turned her head slightly to see you resting your hand on her, your eyes still on Enid as she spoke.

A rush of emotion hit her, a warm, bubbly feeling erupting in her stomach at your affectionate touch. Her face felt hot, and suddenly she had the urge to kiss you.

You both had previously talked about being more intimate with each other, but Wednesday’s stubbornness and her ill-efficient ways of conveying her thoughts on physical affection caused you to never got to try it out.

You had mentioned once that you were interested in slowly growing to that, and would be open to taking as much time as possible until she was ready for that kind of PDA.

The most Wednesday has ever done with you was hold hands, one hug after her second Poe Cup win, and she has permitted a few kisses on her cheek when you were feeling extra loving on valentine’s day.

“And that’s how I can start and stop the rain!” You said confidently, smiling at Enid while still rubbing Wednesday’s back.

“That’s impressive.” Wednesday commented from her slouched position, a small-dazed smile on her face as she stared at you, “You are stunning, cara mía.”

Your face went pink, your lip slipping in between your teeth as you blushed. Enid giggled, putting her hand over her mouth as she laughed at your flustered state.

“Shut up wolf.” You muttered, looking at the ground.

A sudden confidence came over Wednesday, and the next thing she knew, she was grabbing your face and pulling you into a kiss.

Your lips pressed into hers, soft-plump burgundy against slightly chapped and velvety pink. She pulled you closer, one hand on your waist while the other cupped your face. Eventually, your own hands slid to her cheeks to hold her, to touch her in some way.

She was addicting.

Her taste, her smell, her touch, her body language, the way she was so soft with you, the way she chased your lips after you took a breath; it was heavenly.

“Nes..” You mumbled, your voice muffling by Wednesday kissing you yet again.

You were aware of Enid, and you felt bad as this had to be so weird for her, but your focus was on your girlfriends tasteful kissing skills.

“As much as I love…well…love…this is extremely awkward.”

Wednesday pulled back from you, keeping her hands on your waist as she turned to glare at Enid for interrupting her.

“We were being intimate, leave us be.” She stated, rubbing her thumb on your hip.

“It was intense.” Enid sneered, gulping down the last of her orange juice as you blushed.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and pulled you into her lap as you yelped in surprise, your face going even redder than before. Her arms went around your waist to hold you tighter, her chin resting on your shoulder whilst closing her eyes in exhaustion.

“Sleepy?” You asked her, your hand sliding behind her neck to caress her skin.

She hummed, nodding and pulling you closer so she could lean into you. Enid snorted from across the table which made you turn to catch her taking a photo.

You eyed her with a warning look, raising an eyebrow and twitching your head towards Wednesday as if to say, ‘She will skin you alive if she sees that.’

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled, quickly sending you the picture before getting up to throw her food away and probably bother Yoko. You signed, watching her go before sinking back into Wednesday’s surprisingly comfortable hold.

You were with the girl of your dreams.

————————

*sobbing*

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @captainbeat @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg

[poetryincostume]

A ribbon corset has been on my list to make for a good few years now. In 2020 I was full steam ahead to make a Helga Sinclair (Atlantis) cosplay. Life, pandemic, work, and endless distractions means we’re still not quite there yet, but in dribs and drabs I’m tackling elements of the costume as I’m still sitting on the majority of the materials.

This was when when I was in the depths of being very taken with making costumes from the skin out; fit, silhouette and sharp clean lines are my priority when making and where I find great satisfaction. To achieve a perfect shape, you need the perfect structure to build on.

Playing with undergarments creates further opportunity to explore character and the setting, historical or fictional, in a fun intimate way. Fabric choices, actual garment choices, shooting for a silhouette that is easily drawn but harder to achieve in the flesh. This led to me deciding that Helga would need a full set of pseudo-historical undergarments.

With references to the Kaiser, the overall steampunk aesthetic, and the silhouettes featured in the Washington DC-set opening scenes, Atlantis is clearly set in the early 1910s before the outbreak of World War I. Helga's design, however, drew heavily on Hollywood starlets of the '30's and '40's, most notably Veronica Lake and her career making hair. Withn the film, Helga remained highly individual, and was exclusively animated at Disney's French Studio by Japanese animator Yoshimichi Tamura for maximum sex appeal that Burbank animators apparently just can't get right.

This gave me a lovely big window of around 30 years to play and pick and choose from for possible undergarments which led me to: the ribbon corset.

Ribbon corsets emerged alongside sports and 'health' corsets at the turn of the twentieth century. These developed out of a growing engagement with sports and exercise in the leisure classes, the burgeoning Dress Reform movement that advocated the abandonment of the corset. Particularly in the case of the pretty ribbon corset there was also the influence of the late Victorian aesthetic movement that favoured loose, diaphonous romantic garments.

These corsets sat under the bust and had boning at the centre front, back and sides and no more and rested on the high hip. This allowed maximum movement for the active lady, gently supporting the torso in the fashionable flat fronted shaped with little restircution. The body of the corset was otherwise was made up, as in the name, of strips of ribbon.

When looking for discussion of how to construct one of these, all pointers led to Sidney Eileen's perfectly detailed tutorial, which I do recommend reading through. To my eye it is a very modern approach that I didn't quite agree with so I used it as a jumping off point along with the patterns in Corsets & Crinolines, and Corsets - Historical Patterns and Techniques.

To draft up the pattern was very simple: I marked out my desired waist measure, then measured up my centre front and centre back lengths (averaged out from the various patterns in my references compared against myself). I then used my ribbon - 50mm jacquard - to map out my body layout.

When it came time to construct I realised that my ribbon - so abstractly bought years ago - just didn't have the body to take this structure. Much too flimsy, much too synthetic. Fortunately I had a 50mm green grosgain in large quantity in my ribbon drawer. Given the merc-for-hire miliatry drab favoured by Helga, I thought the green alongside the pretty shell coloured floral made a lovely character juxtaposition.

I mounted my jacquard onto the grosgrain, creating a nice delicate border. If you look closely you'll see that actually there are too shades of green grosgrain here as I was about a metre shy of my preferred colour, but i figured it was close enough and minimally to just fake through.

These newly formed ribbons were laid out on my pattern, stitched carrfully together and then tacked all over to stop any irritating movement when working.

The boned panels - side, back and front - were two layers of herrinbone couil, trimmed with grosgrain and covered with main ribbon. The ribbon panels were first stitched to one layer of coutil, as you would with any garment. The ribbons were then quilted neatly and vertically across the width of the coutil panel to make sure that they are entirely secured. This was repeated for all panels; the side panel has two layers of quilte ribbon as a result.

As no extant example that I have seen to date has binding on these boned panels - naturally, it would add bulk and distract from the clean lines of ribbons - I decided that this would mean that I would sandwich and hem my boned panels for security. Each boned panel had its grosgrain trim and top ribbon tacked in placed, the the second layer of coutil was stitched and turned to the inside, folding the quilted ribbon very neatly inside. Boning was then inserted from the side and stitched into place rather than inserted into channels.

A lovely ivory powder-coated busk, and stitched over eyelets and Helga's vaguely turn of the century ribbon corset is all done!

References:

Underwear Fashion in Detail, 2010, Eleri Lynn

Corsets - Historical Patterns & Techniques, 2008, Jill Salen

Corsets & Crinolines, 2017, Norah Waugh

The Making of Atlantis - https://youtu.be/tvR9Zdp74fY?si=5mMV1AH6HLir2rNZ

How To Make A Basic Ribbon Corset, Sidney Eileen - http://sidneyeileen.com/sewing-2/sewing/corset-making/basic-ribbon/

An Edwardian Ribbon Corset, History Wardrobe - https://historywardrobe.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/an-edwardian-ribbon-corset/

[duhragonball]

Roundabout

I watched CJ the X's video about Rick and Morty, mainly because I kept seeing people screencap the parts about perfectionism near the beginning. Well, I thought I should see it for myself, and then I wound up getting pulled into the "Story Circle" concept used by series co-creator Dan Harmon.

This may be old news to a lot of people-- in fact, I'm sure it is, because Harmon admits that this is heavily based on the monomyth concept popularized by Joseph Campbell. I've never fully appreciated the "Hero's Journey" idea before, but I think Harmon has refined it by simplifying the names of the steps. "Atonement with the Father" just becomes "Take", and that's a lot easier for me to grasp. Campbell probably never meant to suggest that every story features a literal "atonement with the father", but his work involved identifying common elements in story structure, so I'm sure he had trouble coming up with fitting names for everything.

Harmon's circle might be a little too simplified, since there's a lot to unpack in the word "Take", but his model is focused on making a formula to write new stories, as opposed to comparative mythology. What I like a lot about the Story Circle is that Harmon insists that it's not a rule that must be learned and followed. Rather, it's an observation of something all humans do when they tell stories, whether they realize it or not. But sometimes it can be helpful to be made aware of the pattern, like checking a map even when you're familiar with the route.

It can be fun, although probably distracting, to apply the circle to existing works. The Star Wars movies used Campbell's monomyth as a blueprint, so that's probably too easy. But it can also be used on individual scenes too. Luke(1) falls down a trap door and now he has to find a way back out (2) before the rancor eats him (3). He manages to avoid being eaten using a bone and some nooks and crannies in the pit (4) but at last he finds a door out of the dungeon, except it's locked, leaving him cornered (5). But he manages to drop a heavy gate on the rancor as it approaches him, which kills it (6). The bad guys then open the door to bring him back to Jabba (7), who now prepares to feed him to an even worse monster outside (8).

And that probably sets up the next cycle in the movie, where Luke saves everyone from the next monster, and so on. I think at long last I understand why these kinds of story structures are presented as "circles" or cycles". You don't have to do multiple laps, but the structure allows you to do so, and acknowledges that multiple cycles can also form a larger circle, and so on.

With episodic television series, the final step, change, often means reverting to the status quo. There's a M*A*S*H episode where Radar tries to become a serious writer, and he keeps trying to inject his army reports with purple prose, until finally Hawkeye explains to him that he has to use his own words and stop trying to imitate what he thinks the "pros" use. So Radar does learn a lesson, but the lesson basically puts an end to the weird dialogue he was using the whole episode and puts him back to normal. The Korean War doesn't end, and Colonel Potter doesn't die, and Klinger still wears dresses, but the structure is still followed and sets up the next cycle.

I can see how this is very useful in a writers' room for a television show, especially one like Rick and Morty, where the characters seem to be capable of almost anything. It probably helps to take stray ideas like "Rick turns himself into a pickle!" and run that through a formula to make sure you can get a working script out of the gag.

Anyway, I'm currently trying to use it to flesh out some ideas for my fanfic, since I have a lot of story beats I want to accomplish, but I don't have much to connect them together. Using the Story Circle seems to be helping me figure out which pieces I'm missing, so maybe this will compensate for all those years where I could just use DBZ Episode 66 and Xenoverse 1 as loose outlines that I could follow. This fall, I gotta build my own story skeleton before I can fill it in, and the clock is ticking...

[miirshroom]

Shadow of the Erdtree Foreshadowing that I haven't seen mentioned much

Some of the clues that the writers knew the direction that the DLC was headed in during development before Elden Ring was released in 2022:

Jarburg was one of the last elements finished in the base game, with Jar Bairn being added in patch 1.03 on March 17th. One of the NPC's who significantly ties into Radahn's questline is Warrior Jar Alexander - mentioned by Jar Bairn - who presumably scoops Radahn's flesh into a pot after the festival concludes. Guess what also changed in patch 1.03? Radahn's hitboxes were stealth adjusted, making him easier to kill. The DLC would then go on to heavily feature pots and Potentates. And Radahn.

Radahn is actually just as mysterious as Godwyn, in that neither of them are ever able to directly speak for themselves as to what are their ambitions. But Radahn has an edge in importance: he shares the same naming prefix as "Radagon", and this similarity is further emphasized with the "Rada" fruit placed throughout the DLC. Radagon is THE root catalyst below everything wrong in the Lands Between (expressed in being the final boss), and in a class far above any individual demigod for all of the threads that tie back to him. Prior to the DLC Godwyn had closure in the form of Fia's mending rune, and Godrick the Grafted/Golden basically being Godwyn-lite. Like, if Godwyn had been around he would have claimed the same rune as Godrick. About Radahn, it was known that he emulated Godfrey, which raises the question "Who is consort to Radahn as Godfrey is to Marika?". And why did he challenge the stars anyways? The DLC appears crafted to answer the questions about "why is Radahn?" that people didn't think to ask.

DLC plans are probably the reason why the devs cut the dreambrew quest. It suited an earlier version of Miquella's character that did not make sense anymore once the decision was made to have Miquella be taken by the Lord of Blood and corrupted. However, because there is extensive data mining for the game, just knowing that there was a dreambrew quest culminating in the "Miquella is St. Trina revelation" (and the theoretical "Age of Abundance and Decay" ending) was how Miquella was previously contextualized by fandom. Think about that: Miquella, the empyrean associated with sleep/dream, was understood through wishful thinking about content that was purposefully not implemented in the release version of the game.

Relying on cut content as secret canon is a slippery slope to disappointment, but in hindsight with full knowledge of the DLC the intention may be clearer. The player who looks backwards and inwards into the unused code of the game discovers a version of Miquella as he was. But since then the game version Miquella has undergone character development, by means of being taken by the Lord of Blood - as implemented with the cocoon of the empyrean. "Mohg, Lord of Blood" as a demigod character was also speculated as a late addition to the base game according to data miners who note that his AI is simply labelled "Greater Demon". Giving the impression that Miquella's diminished role in the base game narrative coincides with Mohg's increased status.

[orions-choker]

+:★:+* Chapter Eight: The Thing That Should Not Be +:★:+*

Pencil to paper, a satisfying scratching at the parchment that tickled the inner parts of Y/N’s brain. Her fingertips stained black from the smudging of charcoal, swiped along her cheek from where she had haphazardly rubbed at her face. Across the page were different concepts, grotesque demons, decaying corpses, rotting flesh. This was completely her element, her passion for all things disgusting and terrifying.

“For us?” Jason asked from above her, finger pointing towards a particular drawing on the page. Her eyes drifted upwards shyly and nodded slowly. “It’s uh, pretty sick.” He sat down beside her on the floor, crossing his legs out in front of him. “You don’t design all our shirts do you?”

Y/N’s hand paused its movement on the paper, twiddling the splintering wood of the pencil between her fingers. “No, Pushead does most of the art for the boys.” She explained. Her thumb flipped absentmindedly through the pages. “James knows I cant handle that kind of pressure all the time so it's just kind of a… ‘if you design something we will put it on a shirt’”

She stopped on a page, full of life studies. It was mostly the boys lounging around, vague gestures of their forms across the page. The most detailed were those of Kirk and Jason. “Huh, I think you made me look too pretty.” Jason joked, grinning at her lopsidedly. “Kirk looks about right.”

It was a sketch she had worked on while they were on stage, a little hard to get the features down right when they were running around like mad men but Y/N liked to think she did them justice. “Nah, you look right.” She smiled, holding the book up to the side of his face to compare. “I draw em’ as I see em’”. Closing the book she tucked it back into her bag. Her hands rubbing against her jeans to remove the charcoal staining.

“My bad, I won't question your artist integrity again.” He raised his hands defensively. He reached out gently, rubbing away at the mark across her face. “You look like you were playing in a pile of soot.” He laughed at the way her face scrunched up. She swatted his hands away with a smile.

Another body sat beside them, forming a small circle. Y/N didn’t need to look to see who it was. “Dude, stop harassing her!” Kirk’s voice resonated from beside her. He was smiling widely, that was more common lately. He leaned forward to punch Jason in the shoulder. “Why the fuck are we sitting on the floor by the way?”

Y/N giggled leaning back against her elbows. “Well I was sitting on the floor because it's more comfy to draw, I don’t know why you two idiots joined me.” Her eyes trailed across the boys across from her. She liked this, the little trio they had formed. It was different. With a sigh she looked at the clock, James hadn’t made it back home yet from another night of binge drinking, he was supposed to drive her to the salon soon. “One of you boys want to drive me to my hair appointment?”

Kirk raised an eyebrow, pulling an odd face. “Hair appointment.” His fingers reached out to tug at some loose strands of her hair from where it fell from her ponytail. “I thought you liked this wild untamed barbarian look you had going on.” His teasing had certainly become meaner.

His body was shoved over harshly. “You wanna see barbarian, I’ll show you barbarian.” She growled at him as he cackled. Crossing her arms over her chest she turned to Jason with pleading eyes. “Please.” She sang to him sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“For the record, I think it's more like you have some witchy woman vibes.” Jason smiled at her, pulling himself off the ground before reaching his hand out towards her. “Yeah I’ll take you since your sorry excuse for a best friend won’t” He kicked Kirk lightly for emphasis, only earning them another laugh.

Y/N stuck her tongue out at Kirk from where he lay on the floor, staring up at the two of them with warm eyes, his curly hair a mess sprawled out along the carpet. “You’re my favorite now.” She took Jason’s hand as she got to her feet.

For a moment the room was warm, energy crackling around the three of them as they shared goofy smiles, laughter dying comfortably on their lips. “See you guys soon.” Kirk promised the two of them as they left.

Home had changed, with the new success of the band there was no reason for all of them to stay living in one small cramped house together. They had gone their separate ways as much as it pained Y/N to no longer share walls with her best friends. She moved in with James but it didn’t stop the boys from inviting themselves over whenever they liked. It was comforting to know some things stayed the same.

“You know, I’ve never seen you with short hair.” Jason commented as he turned the keys in the ignition. The car revved to life with a pleasant hum. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Why the sudden change?”

Y/N twirled the strands of her blonde hair between her fingers. “I used to have it short all the time, pretty much around the ride the lightning tour I just didn’t have time to cut it anymore.” She smiled as she pulled it back, mimicking the cut. “I looked really hot, like Debbie Harry from Blondie.” She giggled.

The city passed them by in a swirl of muted colors, distorted in the hot afternoon haze. It had been awhile since Y/N was actually out before the sun set, she felt like a vampire lately. “Don’t make that comparison.” Jason scoffed. He could see the offended look she gave him. “You’re prettier than that” He clarified quickly, smiling at her visible relief.

“Good save dude.” Y/N leant her head against the window, her hands coming to rest in her lap. She picked at the skin around her nails absentmindedly. Jason looked concentrated on driving, the city traffic in the middle of the day was aggravating. Lately she couldn’t stop staring at him, his smile, the silly little faces he made towards her when he caught her looking. It was annoying the way Jason consumed her lately.

Instead of replacing her thoughts of Kirk, Jason had carved out his own place in her heart. She felt like she was drowning most days, she hardly liked pining over one annoying curly haired boy now there were two. “Do you not think you’ll like my haircut?” She asked hesitantly. It had never occurred to her to consider what someone else might think.

Jason raised an eyebrow as he pulled into the crowded parking lot of the mall. “Does it matter what I think Y/N?” He asked softly. She looked at him wide eyed, shaking her head slowly. He didn’t turn the car off as he put it in park.

“Well no, I was just curious.” She fumbled over her words, fingers slipping against the seat belt buckle as she attempted to free herself from the sudden awkward tension. “I wouldn’t be able to cancel the appointment now even if you said no.” She chuckled nervously.

The buckle clicked open as Jason sideways to undo it for her. “I’m not stepping foot in a mall, I’ll be back for you in like an hour.” He ruffled her hair as she stepped out of the car. “For the record I think you would be pretty even if you were bald.” he joked as Y/N slammed the passenger side door, shooting him an annoyed glance before jogging off to the front doors.

Shopping malls stood for everything she stood against, a powerhouse of capitalism and consumerism, not to mention the assault on her senses. Ugly muted browns and beige colors accented by bright blue neon signs, the top 100 pop hits playing on loop over the loudspeakers. However nothing beats an overpriced mall pretzel or slice of greasy pizza.

However this was not a mission for overpriced food court meals. Quickly she beelined for the only salon in the mall she was familiar with. Checking in with the preoccupied teenager at the counter was nothing short of painful. Y/N found herself wondering if she had been quite as obnoxious.

For all the complaining she did, it was really nice to be pampered again. A head massage and the sudden feeling of weightlessness as the heavy hair was chopped away to her shoulders. As she ran her hands through the choppy layers landing just above her shoulders, she thought she couldn’t wait to show it off to the boys.

Like an excited child she sprinted to Jason’s car, waving wildly. It felt freeing, it felt like her old self, just a little bit. “Woah!” Was his immediate response, his grin ever so slightly lopsided.

“You like it?” She asked excitedly as she barreled into the car, leaning over the center console into his personal space. She grabbed one of his hands, placing it on her head so he could feel the soft slightly feathered texture. Her eyes twinkled as she waited for his response.

His touch was gentle as he ran his fingers through it. “It's just like seeing you for the first time.” He said fondly. Y/N’s skin flushed a rosy color as she sat back in her seat, pupils wide as her brain stuttered, trying to comprehend the compliment.

There was something different about it. Not like the way he usually called her cute, an offhand comment that she could sweep under the rug with a wave of her hand. They all called her cute, like it was an obligation for her friends to do so.

“Thanks.” Her voice coming out strangled as her finger picked nervously at the fabric of her shirt. “Did you go back to mine? Is Kirk still there? I'd like to show him too.” She gained the courage to ask again as they drove. She wasn't oblivious to the way Jason’s jaw tensed.

He shook his head, his tone a little more curt than usual. “No he left for a bit.” The silence that filled the air seemed thick with tension that Y/N couldn’t figure out a cause for. “He will probably swing by again later tonight.” His fingers thrummed against the leather of the steering wheel.

Y/N shrugged a little, watching as her driveway pulled into view, James’s truck still not there. “Oh okay, maybe we can all watch a movie again tonight!” She tried to lighten the mood as she stepped out of the car onto the pavement, Jason following her close behind. “I have The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Two on tape!” She informed him excitedly as they entered the house.

She watched as he strode over to the couch, laying his entire body across it with a soft grunt. “Yeah whatever you want.” He sighed softly, a lazy smile playing at his lips as Y/N moved to the couch as well, lifting his legs up so she could sit down before allowing them to fall on top of her lap. “Doesn’t help us now though.”

“Hmm, we could watch it without Kirk but he might kill us for that.” She hummed thoughtfully, sinking further into the cushions. “Did he say where he was going anyways? I wonder how long we have to wait.”

Jason’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers, the look on his face unfamiliar to her. Somewhere between a mixture of disappointment and anger, but she never truly saw Jason get angry at anything really. She placed a hand on his knee to gain his attention, raising her eyebrow in confusion. After another moment of silence he responded “He said he had a date tonight.”

There it was, that numb feeling that creeped across her skin, the warmth of the room dimming. She understood now why Jason was hesitant to tell her. “Ah,” She choked out. The hand she had placed on Jason’s knee clenched, the fabric of his jeans wrinkled under her touch. Jason nodded at her slowly. “That…sucks.”

“It does.” Jason agreed, a faraway look in his glassy eyes. It didn’t look like sympathy, more like pity. “He really knows how to dig the knife in deeper with us sometimes.” The laugh that followed was strained and rough.

Word’s didn’t seem to properly form on her tongue. She was of course privy to Kirk’s activities, she just did her best to shield herself from them, keeping the illusion real was easier said than done. “Want a hug Jase?” She asked finally. In part because she knew he needed it more, but she wanted the comfort as well.

Jason didn’t have to make his feelings public for her to know. She knew the longing in his eyes because hers was the same. It was a silent understanding they had come to, in some ways she thought it made them stronger friends. In love with the same boy who was so out of reach, neither could have him. She thought maybe it hurt her just a bit less because she had one more distraction.

The couch creaked beneath the shifting of their weight as Jason pulled Y/N against his chest wordlessly. She settled there with her own hands coming to wrap around him softly. “Ever think it's our own fault for never saying anything?” She laughed pitifully, fingers tracing soothing patterns against his back.

“Probably, I would never say anything anyways, wouldn’t be fair to you.” Jason confessed.

“Me neither.”

The gentle ticking of the clock on the wall was the only tell that time had passed as they sat there. Their bodies relaxed slowly, the embrace shifting into something more akin to a half hug. Supporting each other's weight and emotions all the same. “We’re pathetic, let's just watch the damn movie.” Y/N sighed with a sad smile.

Jason nodded, releasing his hold on her. “I’ll grab some drinks if you put it on.” He offered both of them moving to get off the couch. Y/N agreed with a smile, shuffling down in front of the T.V to rustle through her tape collection. The T.V roared to life with the previews, a slight static sound to the audio.

She grabbed her beer from Jason’s hand as he returned. There was an understanding between them as they settled into each other once more, his arm slung around her shoulders pulling her close as she hooked a leg over his. The alcohol did nothing to soothe the confusing ache in her stomach.

It was like rotting from the inside yearning for Kirk, and then having that rot plucked from within her by Jasons caring hands. An endless cycle of hurt and healing.She wondered if Jason felt similar. She looked up at him, the light from the T.V casting shadows across his face.

His eyes drifted down to hers, the moment came to a standstill. Y/N’s chest tightened and a sudden shifting in her stomach had her feeling nervous. “Jase?” She asked softly, watching the way his gaze drifted down to her parted lips. He dipped his head down slowly, sharing her air as he closed the gap between them.

Y/N’s skin ignited in red hot flames, traveling from the tips of her toes up to where their lips met. The kiss was soft, experimental. Her fingertips grazed his cheek as she leaned further into it, reciprocating with a soft barely there pressure.

As quickly as it happened it was gone. Jason pulled back slowly, pupils blown as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs of refusal. The silence in the room aside from the movie begged for her to say something first.

“Why?” was the only question she could think of. Her hand was still placed against his face tenderly. “Not in a bad way, just confused.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

Jason blinked, lips pursing. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asked as if the answer was the most obvious thing. His arm around her shoulders had tensed, holding her to him as if he was afraid she would float away. There was a shakiness in his voice, fear.

“I thought, you… Kirk?” Too afraid to say the full extent of what she had been thinking she frowned at him. Her hand dropped from his cheek to his shoulder. Her body shifted, turning toward him fully so she could better see him. Y/N could see it now, the way his leg bounced slightly, his eyes shifting nervously across her face. “It's okay Jase.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, his leg stilling its erratic movements. “Yeah, Kirk.” He nodded. “Also you.” He confessed slowly. The clock ticked, and something in her brain clicked. Of course it was her too. The realization should have been a happy one but there was a hesitation in her smile.

Y/N repeated it back to him “Also you.” Something in her stomach twisted, saying it out loud. Like somehow this was a betrayal to her younger self. The one hopelessly in love with the boy with the dark curly hair, the one who thought he hung the stars and moon for her.

But here this boy was in front of her. Jason tried to know her, he didn’t stop trying until he did. He picked up her pieces at her lowest, listened to her late night melancholy ramblings. He was the sun that brought warmth back to her cold body. How could she betray herself in two ways to feel like this.

“I'm confused.” She admitted honestly.

Jason nodded, his smile as warm and ever. “Yeah me too, let's figure it out together?” His hand came to hold her own. With his touch the guilt and shame melting away.

[shmothman]

In regards to the next fic I’m working on… Here are some notes on my interpretation of the plantussy. Featuring a lot of biology, flower talk, and… uh. slugs. 🤞🤞🤞

Very Nsfw below the cut.

(Note: I am not an artist)

For the base structure, I obviously took most of my inspiration from flowers. The Plants (in stampede, at least) have very floral elements, and my personal headcanon is that they have some analogous structures—products of convergent evolution to incredibly different circumstances. (Though don’t get me started on my headcanons vis a vis the genetic engineering that went into Vash and Knives being so human-looking, at least on the outside.) If the (capital P) Plants are (lowercase p) plant-like, they could certainly have analogous reproductive structures. Five petal-like labia that lie mostly flat against the skin ‘bloom’ when aroused due to increased blood flow—filling with fluid and expanding due to turgor pressure. (Main inspiration for the petals: cherry blossom flowers, though something… fleshier than I’m able to draw 🤣) The reproductive structures are contained within, shielded by the petals unless sufficiently aroused. Within the outer layer of petals is an inner layer, which also lies flat until aroused, at which point they twist together to form something analogous to a penis. The way the petals twist together leaves distinct grooves spiraling along its length, which conduct fluid that comes from the interior of the dick—though the internal structure below it that would be analogous to a vagina also produces fluid, which is slightly thicker and stickier than a human’s would be. (There is a LOT of fluid.) (Note: the petals that make up the dick can be separated even if aroused, but the interior is incredibly sensitive, and Vash is prone to overstimulation even if he isn’t touched there.) (Main inspiration: morning glory bud, also the Aelit dildo by Strange Bedfellas.)

There are two smaller interior petals that don’t make up the dick, and instead act as labia around the vagina-analogue. (Main inspiration: orchid.) Surrounding the dick, there are several independently-mobile tendril-like structures ending in small bulbs; these serve as hormonal transfer sites—detail below. The center of the ‘flower’ is a dark pink, which lightens to flesh tone at the edges of the petals, though the interior petals are fully dark pink. Maybe with a bit of blue bioluminescence. (They made the man glow in Stampede; what do they expect me to do? NOT make his dick glow too??)

Alright! Now we’re going to talk about invertebrate reproduction! (You come to the invertebrate biologist and don’t expect to get a little bit of a lecture?)

Firstly: Rotifers. Most Rotifers belong to Class Monogononta, and Monogonant Rotifers have a unique reproductive pattern.

Typically, they reproduce asexually, via parthenogenesis, making, by definition, only diploid females. However, when conditions are right (the chemical cues seem to come from crowding, when a population of monogonants gets too high, but it occurs relatively rarely) the usually amicitic (‘not mixing,’ referring to the production of eggs without the mixing in of other genetic material) females will lay eggs that become micitic females. These micitic females produce eggs via meiosis, not mitosis as in parthenogenesis. These eggs are, by definition, haploid. In the absence of fertilization, these eggs develop into males, which are able to fertilize other haploid eggs, creating a new diploid generation which continues to reproduce via parthenogenesis once again. This haplodiploid sex determination system also occurs in many insects, but no other organisms seem to exhibit this pattern of many amicitic generations followed by one micitic generation. This is my headcanon for the way Plants reproduce. It doesn’t have anything to do with how his junk looks but I wanted to talk about it.

Secondly: Terrestrial Gastropods. If you know anything about slug sex, you know it gets pretty fuckin wild. As a self-proclaimed monster dong connoisseur, I would be remiss to not take ideas from them; namely, in this case, love darts. Now, in actual gastropods, love darts are sharp, calcareous or chitinous spines produced by the snail that are coated in mucus that contains an allomone, a pheromone-like compound, that increases the likelihood of successful fertilization. They’re essentially shot into the body of the snail’s mate. Taking the basic idea, though, I’ve mixed that with flower reproductive anatomy to arrive at… uh, I mean. I really need to find a better term but. Love tendrils? Love… stamens? I’ll workshop it. REGARDLESS. They’re essentially independently-moving tendrils with a glandular bud at the end, the purpose of which are to secrete hormones that aid in copulation—essentially oxytocin and dopamine, which then can be absorbed through the skin, giving his partner a… boost.

And that’s my inspiration for Vash’s pussy!! 🤞🤞🤞

[dare-to-dm]

Hello! I saw your post about Assassin's Creed and wanted to ask more. I was a fan of the series too in its early days for the exact reasons you describe: the meta story, lore, and cultural touches that tended to feel so very real. I fell out after ACIII and after the series emerged from the Unity debacle was told that they'd abandoned (or at least back-seated) those elements.

To hear they've survived in some form is encouraging, but what are your thoughts on the meta story since then? Is it worth giving the series a shot or like you said just an endless trail of breadcrumbs?

So, I think the series started going downhill in AC Origins when they introduced leveling and other RPG mechanics. To me, that was the turning point when the games shifted away from the classic formula in order to chase broader appeal and more aggressive monetization strategies.

Despite this downshift, for me every single title that I've played has had at least some redeeming features that made it worth it.

If you haven't played it, AC IV is actually one of my favorite of the series. That one is well worth a playthrough and I can recommend it without reservation. Fun gameplay, interesting story in both the past and future narratives, and stunning setting.

AC Rogue is also an underrated title that does a lot of interesting things with its story and better fleshes out the dark side of the Assassins and why someone might choose the Templars over them. And if you like the gameplay of IV, it's all the same here (though the setting is mostly frozen northern seas instead of the glorious Caribbean).

AC Syndicate is not as good in general, but does implement some nice features. It's the first (major) title with a playable woman protagonist, and the free running gets a refreshed feeling from updates to the setting. Like, they introduced major traffic in this one (moving trains, carriages and boats on the Thames) and once you get used to it it adds an interesting element to navigating around the setting. Plus your homebase is a train, and I think that's really nifty! And the DLC is pretty good. No really huge plot revelations, but the modern day assassins get better characterized.

AC Origins is another downshift (like I said, they introduce levelling and RPG elements here). I like the main character(s), but honestly, if you're looking for one to skip, I'd probably skip this one. The gameplay is meh and the story doesn't introduce much that is interesting. It's supposed to be about how the Assassins started as an organization, but there aren't really any stunning revelations here. It's more of a personal tale of one man seeking justice for his child. Also, the new modern day protagonist, Layla Hassan, is not very likeable IMO.

AC Odyssey is very similar to Origins, and it's just such a bloated game. It's soooo big. And more action focused. BUT it does introduce a major interesting plot element that I won't spoil here and you also learn a lot more about the Isu. Layla gets even less likeable.

And you've read my review of Valhalla. Layla is still the modern day protagonist, but she's at least getting a little more relatable. I haven't finished it yet, so I can't give my complete impressions. I'm certainly hopeful that I'll learn more about modern day factions within the Templar order and maybe some more about the origins of humanity itself, but that remains to be seen.