#but they did put it conspicuously in frame

[cherrylibby]

Defying Orders

word count: 1027

The scene was a cacophony of tension and anticipation. The team had the building surrounded, waiting for the SWAT team to arrive and execute the tactical plan. The air was thick with the hum of radios and the distant wail of sirens approaching. Aaron Hotchner stood near the command vehicle, his eyes sharp and calculating as he monitored the situation, ready to call the shots at a moment’s notice.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the area. Through the broken blinds of a second-story window, her breath hitched—there he was. The unsub, a wiry man with a wild, desperate look in his eyes, was dragging the small, terrified child further into the dilapidated building. The boy’s muffled cries reached her ears, tugging at her every instinct.

Without thinking, Y/N shot to her feet.

“No!” Hotch’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm in a firm but not bruising grip. His voice was sharp, authoritative. “Don’t. The SWAT team isn’t here yet.”

His dark eyes locked onto hers, a storm of urgency and warning swirling in them. For a moment, her feet hesitated, caught between his command and the primal urge to act.

But then she looked back at the boy. His small frame, the helpless way he struggled against his captor—it was too much.

“I can’t just stand here,” she hissed, yanking her arm free from his grip.

“Y/N!” he called after her, but she was already moving.

Morgan and Prentiss exchanged a look, their unspoken agreement clear as they immediately followed her.

“Damn it,” Hotch muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening as he signaled for the rest of the team to prepare for immediate action.

Y/N’s feet pounded against the cracked pavement as she sprinted toward the building. Her weapon was drawn, her breaths shallow but steady as adrenaline surged through her veins. She barely registered the shouts behind her, the sound of Morgan and Prentiss closing the gap as they covered her six.

Inside, the dim light and the scent of mildew hit her like a wall, but she pressed on. She could hear the unsub now, his frantic shouts as he tried to maneuver with the child in tow. She followed the noise, her focus razor-sharp, every fiber of her being attuned to the mission.

“FBI! Stop right there!” she yelled as she rounded the corner.

The unsub froze, his eyes darting between her and the child. For a split second, time seemed to stand still.

Then chaos erupted.

The tension was palpable as the jet soared quietly through the night. The usual hum of camaraderie among the team was conspicuously absent. The cabin felt colder than usual, and the silence between you and Aaron Hotchner weighed heavier than the lingering pain in your leg.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, watching as Aaron methodically unwrapped the bandages on your injured leg. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes avoided yours.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, wincing slightly as he dabbed at the wound with antiseptic.

His head snapped up, and his stern gaze silenced you immediately. The words died on your tongue as his expression conveyed everything he hadn’t said since the incident.

Hotch didn’t speak as he continued rewrapping the gauze, his hands steady but his shoulders visibly tense. When he finished, he packed the supplies back into the first aid kit and placed it on the table beside him. Finally, he leaned back against the seat across from you, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“What you did,” he began, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained anger, “was reckless. Stupid. Do you have any idea how close you came to getting yourself killed?”

“I—”

“No.” He cut you off sharply, his tone rising for the first time since the incident. “You don’t get to justify this. You disobeyed a direct order. You ignored protocol, ignored me, and put yourself in harm’s way. Do you even understand what that did to me?”

“I did my job, Aaron,” you shot back, your voice breaking as you tried to defend yourself. “That child would’ve died if I hadn’t—”

“You could have died!” he interrupted, his voice cracking as the composure he clung to unraveled. “You think I don’t know what you were trying to do? You think I didn’t see it? But do you have any idea how angry I was? How terrified? For a moment, I thought—”

His voice faltered, and he exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as he struggled to regain control. His usual stoicism was gone, replaced by raw vulnerability.

“For a second, I thought I was going to lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared out of my mind, Y/N. I’ve faced unsubs, bombs, and shootouts, but nothing—nothing—terrifies me more than the thought of losing you.”

Your chest tightened as his words hung in the air, heavy and filled with emotion. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

“I can’t—” he began again, his voice breaking as he stepped closer. “I can’t lose you. Not like that. Not because you thought you had to prove something or because you didn’t trust me to protect you.”

His eyes glistened as he spoke, and for the first time, you saw Hotch—the unshakable leader—on the verge of tears.

“I need you to promise me,” he said, his voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll never do something like that again. I can’t go through that twice.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you nodded silently, the weight of his confession hitting you harder than any reprimand ever could.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron inhaled deeply, his expression softening just slightly as he crouched in front of you, resting a hand on your uninjured knee.

“Just… don’t scare me like that again,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

For the first time since the mission, his gaze met yours and stayed there. It wasn’t just anger in his eyes—it was fear, relief, and something much deeper, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

[kittyoverlord]

Who fucking called it!

Thanks @guyramsayfieri and @divinedoorhinge for the nice tags. :)

Calling it now, this is the big bad of the season lol.

[dustykneed]

you are my sunshine, my only sunshine

you make me happy when skies are gray

(prompt fill for @mcspirkevents' mcspirk bingo prompt "gone with the wind".)

static frames below:

ouch! neck deep in aos bones feels rn... lmk if i should make a fix-it or somethin

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[anantaru]

DIFFERENT KIND OF FINE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — being kaveh‘s younger sibling can be quite jarring yet you‘re eternally grateful for his hot room mate keeping you company while you wait for him.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 4.3k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, reader is in their 20s + kaveh‘s step sibling, kaveh is both older than you and alhaitham, perv alhaitham ??, he's calling you a 'good girl', he's a tease

by now, how many times in your life did you have to run after your careless, irresponsible brother?

had to make sure he isn't doing anything reckless again, despite him being an akademiya graduate. Or that one time when he had visited your home only to forget half of his belongings, requiring you to carry them all over to his place.

well, not to his place to be exact.

after yet another foolish decision in kaveh's life, your step brother even got himself caught up in heavy debt, being in need of a place to stay.

however at first, he had asked you, but ever since you had gotten adopted you had already spent the majority of your life with him.

to say you were tired was an understatement.

as a matter of fact kaveh did find a place to stay in the end, one you were quite surprised to hear of, bewildered even, you just couldn't wrap your head around how on earth that was supposed to work out in the long run.

you had heard of his roommate, the akademiya's scribe, or how most people were referring to him, as alhaitham, from kaveh himself, aside of the very detailed stories about how ill mannered and ignorant he could become, especially to your brother in question.

in all honesty, it made you laugh, you mean to tell him that yes, sometimes messing with him, taking a lot out of him could be fun in all aspects but maybe it was due to the fact that you were practicing those methods from your childhood days on.

as life went on, you found yourself at his new settling every once in a while, more often when the scribe himself wasn't there, almost as if kaveh was trying his utmost best to never have you both meet each other.

once you had asked him as to why, feeling insulted that he even thought you wouldn't realize when he was making it painfully conspicuous, more whenever your brother would panic that *now* he was usually coming home from his work, you had to leave right now.

all he had to say about it was that he was certain you wouldn't like him anyways, would actually loath him too and wasn't it a part of nature to protect your younger sibling from each major plague in life?

to that, you couldn't respond with anything meaningful, suffocating the conversation right then and there because truthfully, though it may seem strange, you didn't think your brother would lie to you in that precise set of circumstances because maybe he was right, perhaps you really would hold a hostile environment towards the scribe.

even now, as you were strolling through an appealing, warm evening in sumeru city, you not once had met alhaitham, at this being slightly hopeful that you wouldn't cross paths with him today either.

because you see, it was that time of the month again, the: your brother has, again, forgotten something at home after visiting you, putting on the responsibility on your shoulders to fetch and transport it back to his place.

ordinarily you concluded that at this time of the day kaveh surely must've gotten home by now, you knew his schedule by heart and were quite confident to meet him there right away, knocking on the door as you at last, found your way to the huge place he resided in.

knock, knocking once more, silence ... knock again?

after knocking a total of three times, with no one opening the door for you, your expression slightly changed from normal, to confused, to that of being utterly annoyed.

it's not like you didn't have anything better to do other than being your brothers little assistant or however you wanted to frame it.

since you had been to his place numerous amounts of times before, in addition that you determined that he surely must've fallen asleep again, you decided to check the door handle to see if it was open all along, which it then, was.

(you put an important mental note in the deepest ends of your brain to scold him afterwards for carelessly leaving the door to his home open like this.)

you carefully cradled your fingers around the door handle to pull it down, pushing the door open to let yourself in.

okay, well, maybe it wasn't a smart idea to just straight up enter a home from someone you didn't know, but kaveh was living there for a good amount of time already so you didn't think too much of it.

the second you had entered you swiftly closed the door behind you, the faint breeze from outside scampering around your body as you tightly held onto the two books he forgot at your place, walking towards the living room.

"kaveh?" you spoke, rolling your eyes and deciding to get a bit louder, already being done with this whole, bloody situation, "kaveh!"

once reaching the living room you with, might i add, a bit too much applied strength, violently thumped the books onto the wooden coffee table and huffed out, distressfully folding your arms in front of your body.

"what has that poor table done to you?" you helplessly shrieked the moment you had perceived an unfamiliar, deep voice, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing straight while you were slowly turning around in horror.

"who are you?!" you could say you spoke before actually bringing the whole situation to your mind to thoroughly think about it, leaving the unacquainted man in front of you with a confused look on his face.

"I think i could ask you the same." he was quick to gather a response, flawlessly bringing himself a step closer towards your frame but still leaving enough space between your bodies.

"because you see, this is my house." instead of kindly introducing himself to you, like any other person would, he swiftly walked past your body to plop himself onto the massive couch.

but never keeping his gaze off you, carefully sliding his eyes from your lips, to your exposed collarbones and glissading them over your body until reaching your legs.

it seemed as if he was waiting for a response from you, after all you had now rapidly deducted that this had to be none other than the scribe, alhaitham, himself.

you turned around to slightly lower your gaze to where he was sitting at, nonchalantly sipping on his cup before placing it on the coffee table right next to kaveh's books.

"so .. you must be?" warily, you allocated a question into the room, anxiously swaying in your footing from left to right.

"the owner of this house."

seriously?

the least he could do now was approach you back in kindness instead of making it a dozen amount more difficult for you, as well as embarrassing.

"that's not what i meant." how rude, okay, to give him the benefit of the doubt you were the one who broke into his house but clearly he must've known who you were.

or maybe he actually didn't when you take into account that all kaveh and alhaitham would do was bicker with each other day on day, play pranks or make it as difficult as possible for one another without actually exchanging a normal sounding sentence, once.

"what did you mean then?" casually, he settled back into the couch to withhold the long overdo smirk on his lips, leaning one hand over the frame, his eyes being currently fascinated by your cute lips, pretty eyes, attractive thighs and in confusion, scrunched up face.

or what about the skirt you were wearing, it neatly fit you and magnified your alluring curves, as if it was tailored just for your body to dress in.

what if you were to bend down right now, would the garment expose your cute panties underneath or was it just right, situated under your plump ass? keeping everything hidden from his hungry eyes.

your expression was being somewhat amusing, the hilarity of it all barely being able to be hidden.

"you know what? I'm leaving." attempting to stressfully remove the books off the wooden table, he quickly rose up to confidently sit upright, "wait."

"i assume you're kaveh's sibling?" the worst thing of it all was the tone in his voice, as if he wasn't actually asking you, just proving his own thesis. "yes."

you slowly pulled your shoulders back to appear more poised in your mannerism, standing upright when he suddenly shifted in his seat, scooting as to try to make some space for you.

"i'm alhaitham, though i don't think you've heard many good things about me." at the tip of his sentence, he gently tapped the now empty area next to him with his hand, beckoning you to take a seat.

what harm was there in doing that, right? it appeared as if kaveh wasn't home yet so you could spare some time to wait for him, with alhaitham, of all people.

his voice reverberated a deep, gentle timbre, as well as a controlling chime trussed around it.

you've quietly settled on the couch and exchanged names with him, you were wholly surprised to find such a man, that was for one, in all aspects different from what your brother had originally told you about and second, although he shared a couple intimidating peculiarities— which might be a natural revealing trait from his work, alhaitham was a clever, pleasant person to have a conversation with.

"kaveh is getting held back at the akademiya." he was idly finishing his drink, inconspicuously scurrying a couple inches closer to you.

"you can wait here if you want." you smile at his proposal, situating yourself within reach to better listen to him, "thank you so much, i will."

alhaitham hummed at your sense of utterance, his choice of words was well thought after, his body language too, turning it altogether more clear.

"who knew kaveh's sibling would be so well mannered." he added, understandably focusing on your lips or how they held a glint of sparkly lipgloss on top, "it's so different from him."

how would you taste like? the lipgloss he means.

would it be sticky on his lips? if he kisses you, or taste artificial, maybe a small amount of strawberries, the gloss faded in a translucent tone after all so all he could do was guess.

you're finding yourself awkwardly laughing at his words, "he's not always like that." nodding along, you decided to not dwell on it any longer, it was polite to bring forth your well mannered approach, after all he did open his doors for you ..

.. or you actually did, but he let you stay.

"i don't think kaveh is as polite as you?" he was lingering a bit closer now and for some reason you found the warmth his body set free pacifying.

you're able to fully glance over his facial features, focusing on the small dimples dwindling around the corners of his lips, his multicolored irises or the enticing cologne hanging in midst the air.

your nostrils were slightly flaring, involuntarily memorizing his scent, archons, you couldn't stop yourself from traveling into your thoughts, fighting every square in your body to halter yourself from drifting off into your daydreams.

"uh-" at first, you had no clue he was staring at you the whole, damn time, his hair strands were effortlessly falling around his porcelain skin, intently watching you through his thick lashes, "it depends on the person, i think."

"on the person you say." he trails off before smiling at you, a little coy and intriguing, the right corner of his lips being tucked back into a smirk.

you didn't even realize how close you two have been sitting next to each other by now, only being brought back to reality when you accidentally nudged your knee against his own, pulling in a sharp breath through your nose.

his scent was now heavily falling down on you, much more violent than before. A tease actually, that's what he was and you fell into it head first, your embarrassment cushioning your sweet cheeks with immense warmth as you disconcertingly pushed your thighs together.

so sweet, you never questioned yourself, and what about your brother? would he want you to fuck his roommate, or maybe, try and kiss him right now? and you know you shouldn't, obviously.

you could just fantasize about it after getting your ass up to leave this place, or this suffocating heat he effortlessly inflicted on you with nothing more than his pretty eyes delving daggers into your sweet skin.

but you wanted to taste it, the actual thing, his plump lips, you weren't this captivated by a person in a long time and it somehow scared you away, almost that is, because right now you were still sitting next to him, your knees playfully rubbing and nudging together.

his hand suddenly moves from his side to yours, gently being placed on top of your swaying thigh, massaging the soft skin when he noticed your slight shaking.

you returned his call, attempting to close the distance when he suddenly spoke again, "what would your brother say to this?" you only realize his hand wandering down more close when he rubbed painfully slow circles into the insides of your warm thigh, "would he be surprised, mad or furious?"

you're whining, he didn't even touch you on your burning little sensation and you were already helplessly heaving out, soft cries prickling from your throat to escape your lips.

"he doesn't have to know— please." this whole situation had your body tear each square of control off you and you were wondering what you were begging for in the first place.

perhaps to alhaitham— to keep his mouth shut in front of your brother, or maybe, you were additionally begging him to finally touch your clothed pussy with the flimsy material of your panties being drenched with nothing but your slick.

"Mm, please?" he's acting innocent, gently tipping his head to the side as his hand delved deeper, carefully pushing past your skirt, cupping your wet heat at once. "ah— there we go."

a single finger worked against you as you silently cried out, resting your forehead against his own while spreading your legs a little farther away.

it's only his middle finger but it still felt big, his build was remarkable and you could perceive a couple veins accentuating the back of his muscular arm rubbing circles on your clothed clit.

"you're wet there." he notes almost immediately, "what were you thinking about this whole time?" oh how sweet you were, the ticklish sensation of his knuckles ghosting on your skin had you giddy on the inside, your toes curling in your shoes. "n-nothing."

you deny whatever he thought about yet alhaitham knew better than this, way better, the amount of essence that coated his fingertips was too much evidence for you to blatantly repudiate his questions.

"pull up your shirt." he's fast, whispering against your neck when he instantaneously planted wet, open mouthed kisses on the thin skin, roughly slithering his tongue over it.

you do as he commands, quickly discarding your shirt but not completely, only letting the garment clutch over your breasts that were covered by your bra.

"good girl." you're trembling at the nickname, in your seat greedily burying your hands into his soft hair to pull him closer to your neck, letting him plant gentle bites and nips on you while simultaneously skimming his finger over your shielded folds.

"can you—" before you could finish, you stopped yourself from speaking, your attention being redirected by your sensitive little clit being pinched on.

you're throwing your head back at the slightly painful, yet fiery touch on you, "ah, please, more!" the anticipation in you to finally have his fingers deep inside your pussy, stirred up the adrenaline in your blood, yanking one of your legs over his own as alhaitham pulled you closer.

"more?" you clearly caught his interest, he lightly taps your clit with his middle finger before adding another one, your thighs instantly jolting up at the applied friction of another digit. "like this?"

"yeah— like this." you weakly responded, your voice a tone higher, alhaitham huffed out his warm breath on your damp neck that was wholly and sloppily glazed with his saliva when you smiled airily at him, resting your head against his comforting shoulder.

you're suddenly crying out, biting back a delicate whine when he gingerly hooked his fingers into the garment to at last, meet your exposed cunt, licking his lips at the sight.

if only your face wasn't so mesmerizing to look at while he's scissoring your tiny hole, alhaitham wanted to map it all out, your little pussy, every single inch, embed it into his perverted mind and jerk himself off at the thought of it afterwards.

he's greedily pulling your panties down, letting the flimsy material loosely dangle around your ankle as he positioned your leg back up on his own, watching your fluttering hole clench down on his curled up fingers.

if it wasn't for his other hand holding you open you were sure you would've suffocated the blood in his other arm by the way you wanted to push your thighs together around him, messily riding his digits with your bare cunt.

"i love how you feel down there." he shamelessly threw into the room, as if he didn't even care how shameful this situation was in its entirety, "you feel so good clamping down on me like that."

he smiles when he caught you yank your hips up a bit, meeting his pace midway, the raw squelching sounds of his fingers selfishly digging into your squishy walls rang through the big living room, your eyes squiring a glassy expression by the force alhaitham was going for.

"what if your brother comes in now?" at this, you reasonably gasped, desiring to actually smack that stupid grin off his face, "d-don't say that!" you mutter inaudibly as you're tucking him closer, your breasts cramming onto his chest when he looked at you, "really now?"

"imagine poor kaveh sitting on this couch afterwards." alhaitham heaved, abruptly pecking your lips when you deducted that this was the first time he had kissed you, at all, "the same couch I'm finger fucking his sibling on, right now."

you're moaning out screaming when he added a third and final finger, splitting your tiny hole with his thick digits and curling up, nudging the hammering spots deep within in your creamy walls.

his inappropriate choice of words had your mind turn hazy, liquifying all the rational thoughts in your body and turning them to nothing at all, dissolving them and replacing them with filthy, perverted things.

you could name it a carnal desire when you decided to hungrily kiss him, capture his plump lips with teeth colliding against each other.

it wasn't as tasteful as you thought it would be at first, the built up tension made it quite difficult to focus on two tasks at the same time, in addition to how hard alhaitham was fucking your tingling cunt.

yet alhaitham didn't mind, he wholly welcomed you, circling his wet muscle over your own as he pushed you deeper into the couch, adoring how your thighs began to vibrate from the sense of overstimulation he was capable to inflict on you throughout seconds.

how was it possible for him to be so good at this, so fucking skilled at pleasuring you senseless?

really, he only had met you today and you couldn't even remember another time when you were this needy, this wet and filthy minded because of another person.

"I think I'm close." you mewl out, your eyes being low lidded and beginning to strain from merely holding them open. Alhaitham snickered at your words, desperately suckling on your lips as he further amplified the tempo on your pussy. "close you say?"

he worked like magic, truly, it was addicting to be with him, the pleasure in you was heavily boiling, more so when your sensitive nipples began to roughly rub over the edge of your bra, your areolae being half exposed for his hungry, desiring eyes.

he was quick to pull himself away from your swollen lips, instead drawing himself to one of your nipples to encircle it in his warm mouth, greedily suckling in his breath to nibble on your tit while carrying on with his relentless pace on your cunt.

your lips twitch when you clasped them together, his finger pads grazing through the squishy flesh when your body tensed up, your hands having no other choice than to cradle around his neck, finally letting your orgasm wash over you.

"come on." his voice was raspy, "we're running out of time, you can do it, pretty." at his words you were helplessly scrunching your eyes shut, to half of his sentence you didn't even listen to, it was clear that the brutality of his touch alone would leave you sore, painfully sore but also yearning for him to do it once again.

you're limply grinding your hips into his hand a couple more times when you vehemently released into him, his palm being utterly drenched in your filthy slick while his thumb was carrying on to roll over your overstimulated clit.

you're moaning out his name, it felt silly to do it, to say it like that as if you were actually familiar with each other, contradicting the reality which was that you had just met him, not even hours ago.

"would you look at yourself." he purrs, alhaitham was lazily digging his fingers into your swollen cunt, captivated by your exhausted body listlessly leaning back, your chest heaving up and down and your thighs tightly clamping around his arm.

it was far too humiliating to look at him, to even speak back or say something.

because why, the moment you'd be brought back to reality, after a good fucking orgasm, all the problems would scrub over you in an instant, not even giving you additional time to bath in your deserved afterglow.

you noisily peaked between your legs with your loose cunt being still filled by his thick digits, noticing a dampened splotch underneath.

"you ruined my couch." he's noting before messily pulling out of you, his fingers being drenched in your sticky mess and quietly connecting to your cunt with a string of your essence holding you together.

"i— i didn't do it on purpose." you panic, not catching on that he was actually being sarcastic with you.

alhaitham for once, broke off the attention from your body, locating it to his soaked fingers before slowly opening his mouth, placing them on top of his tongue and closing his lips around it.

your eyes grew wide, the downright sinful look on his face had you hypnotized, another rush of excitement pistoling into you.

you find yourself staring without shame, drooling over the fact that alhaitham began to groan around his fingers, slurping them clean while searching for your gaze to hold them close to his own.

you were sure you were never going to get rid of this picture in your memories, you'll have it installed in your deepest depths forever.

when he was done, he carefully slid them off his lips, attempting to say something if it wasn't for a sudden noisy sound echoing through the heavy, of intimacy smelling, room.

you turned around in horror as you watched the door handle of the front door get pulled down, immediately alhaitham grabbed onto your shirt to drag it down your breasts, hiding your bare skin as he searched for a pillow to cover the obvious, painful erection in his pants.

"hey idiot, i'm home." the voice was sadly, very familiar, kaveh was now home.

kaveh? your brother! the one you were actually seeking out in the first place.

in a strive to look for your panties you lowered your gaze, yet being unable to spot them all over the floor when your brother walked into the living room at last.

"why is it so hot in here? oh—" his words instantly died in his throat the moment he had seen you sit next to his roommate, his eyes dramatically twitching, "what are you doing here?"

"what have you done?!" kaveh was quick to point whatever blame he could find on alhaitham, thankfully being oblivious to the fact that he rearranged your guts just a few moments ago.

"he did nothing, i promise!" you awkwardly laughed at the silence while clumsily getting up, innocently pushing your skirt down, "i was here to bring you your books and bumped into al— alhaitham!"

"no need to worry kaveh, i was only trying to make conversation." alhaitham sheepishly explained with an overly pleased smile on his face, yet not getting up, the big pillow resting on top of his pulsing crotch.

"whatever." kaveh rolled his eyes, being slightly irritated by the way you were so out of breath, deducting that alhaitham must've been a pain in the ass, overwhelming his poor, little sibling. "come on, lets get to my room."

as he went on to grab the books on the coffee table, you awkwardly ventured your gaze to alhaitham, just one last time, catching him stare at you before he playfully winked, darting his eyes away.

"lets go." kaveh was angry, cursing himself that he should've come home sooner, lightly pulling your arm so you'd follow him.

the moment alhaitham had heard the door of kaveh's bedroom close, he quickly disposed of the pillow on his lap, exposing your damp panties sticking to his pants.

you don't mind, do you?

you probably have a quite remarkable collection of underwear he has to see one day, until then, he'll give it his all to make good use of your panties ..

.. maybe even now, to fuck his stiff cock into the cloth while you're in your brother's room, without underwear, sore with your pussy still memorizing his slender, calloused fingers rubbing on your flesh.

yes, he might as well do it now.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[lirotation]

Jaheira said to Tav at the reunion party, "Well, now. You can make yourself presentable, when you have a mind to." It inspired this headcanon:

My Tav is a nerd who has no sense of fashion, and Astarion insisted on dress to impress for the night. So he gifted her a dress, and became her stylist extraordinaire earlier that day.

Astarion X Amaara(my wizard Tav) fluff

As Amaara emerged dressed in casual leggings and a tank, Astarion arched an eyebrow. "Attending the reunion like that, my dear? '' 

Amaara glanced down at her outfit in surprise. "What's wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing. You look lovely, and you would still look lovely covered in intellect devourer’s gray matter," Astarion tutted, casting his gaze critically over her outfit.

Amaara chuckled. "Well, I've come a long way from dressing like my elderly professors, believe me." She looked further at her wardrobe, a bit self-consciously. "But you're right - I could use an expert's guidance. So…help me pick something that looks the best, please.”

He eyed her wardrobe wearily, "Fashion falls low on your list of priorities, it’s obvious. Personally, I think you look your best wearing nothing, but alas, that’s reserved for my eyes only.“ He turned to open the seldom-used closet in the corner of their inn room, “I have just the thing in line with the grandeur I intend us to exude this evening."

“This," he declared, holding up a flowing dress in her favorite color, "is far more suitable for the occasion."

Amaara was surprised, “Wow, when did you…”

“I had it commissioned right after receiving Wither’s invitation. I do know your size most intimately, my dear.”

After she put on the dress, Astarion guided Amaara to the vanity table, an array of ornate hairpins and brushes laid out before the gilt-edged mirror. As he stood behind her and ran his fingers through her dark tresses, only her reflection gazed back - his own form conspicuously absent.

Amaara watched the mirror with widening eyes as the hairpins began lifting and gliding through the air, seemingly of their own volition to twist back intricately piled locks and spiraling curls framing her face.

She couldn’t help but giggled, “My hair decided to style itself! Now that’s a dream come true.”

A grin tugged at Astarion's lips as Amaara's peals of laughter filled the room. “Yes yes. Now, sit still, lest your hair decide to leave your scalp altogether.”

Astarion deftly dressed the unmanageable hair into an elegant, braided updo. 

With a flourish, he placed the final pin.

His voice purred low at her ear. “There now...a vision to launch a thousand torrid dreams. None shall have eyes for another, once you walk through the portal on my arm tonight."

She turned to look at him, laughter subdued, expression soft. “Thank you, my love...no one’s pampered me so in long years.”

He brushed a loose curl back, voice sincere. "A small gesture of appreciation for the happiness you’ve gifted me these past six months," he paused, leaned in closer, and confessed in almost a whisper, “Joy profound enough to counterbalance two centuries of misery.”

[unchartedcloud]

New Rules - Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - Nonsense

Sometimes, when a relationship is new, something soft and sweet turns into something...unabashedly smutty.

(Heads up: this one's got sexually explicit material.)

Clarke’s question interrupts Lexa’s thoughts, though not quite fast enough for her to hear its entirety. Not that she could hear much of anything if Clarke weren’t shouting—the woman has been blasting whatever eclectic mix of songs she’s chosen through most of Lexa’s speaker system all morning. “There’s every condiment in existence in this fridge, how can there be no butter?” Lexa’s eyes don’t leave her laptop screen. She rubs her chin; narrows her eyes; tucks the tip of her pen atop her middle finger and clicks through another set of prompts. “Did you want butter for your coffee?” she calls back.  “Very funny,” comes the response. “I know where the coffee is, thank you, but that does little to assist in the creation of toast.” Now why on earth would they put that button there? She starts another line of notes and answers: “It’s on the top shelf, my darling. Behind the creamer.” Silence follows; or rather, not silence, since the music is still blaring through the apartment, but still a conspicuous lack of fridge door-closing sounds or the toaster announcing the aforementioned creation of toast. Feet shuffle down the hall and Lexa doesn’t have to look up to know Clarke has abandoned the search for butter and instead has appeared at the open door to her office. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lexa glances up only briefly, taking in the bright purple t-shirt emblazoned with Jazz and Heritage Festival, familiar heather gray sweatpants, and half-acetate, half-wire cat-eye frame reading glasses that characterize Clarke’s Sunday morning wardrobe in half a second before returning to her notes. “The butter is behind the creamer.” “Not that.” Lexa sees Clarke cross her arms and lean against the doorframe out of the corner of her eye. “What did you just call me?” She stops writing. Her brows knit together; she’d paid so little attention to what she was saying that she now has to actively try to recall what it was. “Clarke?” she guesses. “Nope.” Now Lexa does, for the first time, turn her attention fully to Clarke—and is met with raised eyebrows and the beginnings of a smirk. “Try again.” Puzzlement sets in. Had she said something strange? It’s on the top shelf…

Read on Ao3.

[akutasoda]

Hi! It's nice to meet you, I read though your works for a while now and saw how good they are.

I was wondering if I could request something with the hunting dogs(platonic teruko)

We the reader was there significant other/friend and died right after committing a very violent crime.

So the hunting dogs go on for years thinking that there friend/significant other was a criminal until many years later they find out that the reader died so that they wouldn't get framed with a crime.

So basically the reader died to protect them. And took being framed with a very serious crime so the hunting dogs wouldn't.

Thank you for your time and if this is to big of a request that's okay.

Have a good day!

time's long lost mistake

synopsis - for ages they never understood what drove you to do something that permanently stained your reputation, but they find out that's not the real story

includes - tachihara, jouno, tecchou, teruko

warnings - gn!reader, angst, reader dies, slight hints to blackmail, wc - 1.7k

a/n: hello! its nice to meet you to! no request is to big it just means ill take a bit longer haha - hope your having a nice day aswell!

michizō tachihara ★↷

tachihara had been through quite a bit. despite him being apart of a undercover mission in the port mafia he had never really committed a crime that would make him reap the consequences. but one thing he constantly worried about was that you may be caught up in any crossfire - port mafia or hunting dog.

being associated with both of these meant even more of a risk for you. but you knew what you were getting in to - he had told you many, many times. you had no doubt that you two could make it work and so did he. but now he wishes that maybe you both were a but more cautious.

wether the threat was from his undercover affiliation with the port mafia or because of his title as a hunting dog, you had no idea but one thing was for certain. if you did not take the fall, your lover surely would reap more consequences than you ever could imagine. you were made quite aware to the fact that there was no way out of this and that was fine. your mind was sealed on your decision.

tachihara had never thought something like this would be capable - let alone you but here he was, faced with the news of your untimely demise following the crime that seemed near impossible for someone to commit. he was near outraged, not to you, but to himself for not seeing any signs or letting you do this but now in your final resting you were branded a criminal. and yet he felt deep down as if something was off.

and it seemed his gut feeling was correct. for years he had gone on bearing the news of your demise and some part of him always felt mad when he had heard others talking bad about you and your end. but all of a sudden, like a sudden clarity, he was informed by a conspicuous individual who had presented him with clear as day evidence. evidence that could clear your name.

but now he felt even more outraged, he had let his job affect your life and caused you to die protecting him. he wished dearly that you had talked to him about it and not go along with it immediately to protect him. but it was too late for that now. now all he could do was try and bring peace to your final resting and clear your name.

saigiku jouno ★↷

jouno was always very hesitant to begin a relationship. not that he didn't want to, he loved you dearly and wanted nothing else but to be with you, but because he wanted to be with you that he feared that you would be used against him. being a hunting dog came with risks and the last thing he would want is to put you in danger.

however he eventually became confident enough to begin that relationship. trusting taht you both would be strong enough to protect not only each other but the relationship itself. the risks were well understood and much discussed before and during the relationship, he didn't want it to seem overbearing but he had to get his worries across.

however no amount of warnings could've prepared you for the decision that you were about to make. the decision if either sacrificing yourself or letting not only your liver be framed but the entirety of the hunting dogs. you wished you could've discussed it with him but time was short and you had decided the consequences of letting your liver be framed would be much worse than what you would face.

upon hearing the news, the only way jouno could describe the way he felt was betrayal. betrayal of the fact that he did not believe you could do something like that and betrayal that you had never been honest with him. he became rather quiet after. he was lost in honesty. not only had he lost you but it had left him to question things he normally wouldn't.

for years he had gone on feeling a multitude of emotions and becoming rather reclusive. that was until he was presented with quite the comically suspicious envelope. contents, that upon reading, made him realise that all this time he had doubted you. now he could feel the shame creeping up on him. why did he ever doubt you? of course you wouldn't do something like that.

and in fact he felt sympathy even more, for you. for the fact that he understood the situation you were placed in and no matter how much he wished things went differently he could do nothing to change the past. all he could do was bring peace to your reputation and get revenge in his own personal way.

tecchou suehiro ★↷

tecchou was a firm believer in justice, that was laid in no doubt. however there was one person that could rival his faith in justice. and that person was you, the person who stood by his side thick and thin. the person that understood the risks associated with dating a hunting dog and still chose to be with him. oh he wished he could of made you take back that choice.

the risks that hung over your head were a constant reminder for the reality of who you were dating. but you never minded in the slightest. you loved him and nothing could deter you from being with him. but fate did not see it that way. fate saw it fit to adminish a cruel change.

you had knew all too well the consequences of the action you were about to take. but to you, you hadn't seen it as the matter of the hunting dogs reputation or yours - but more as your beloved boyfriends reputation or yours. and you were more than willing to sacrifice yourself for him. the news had hit him like nothing he had ever felt before. he was in disbelief, how could you do something of that level and let alone die without explaining yourself to him - scratch that, how did he not see this happening.

he went on for years with the restraints your death placed upon him. he was disappointed in himself for not being there to protect you from your fate. constantly questioning the one thing he never even batted an eye at - justice. surely justice ment more than you losing your life for one crime (a rather violent one but that didn't add up for him). and even so he never felt as of he could be mad at you. he could never even dream of being mad at you.

clarity came in the form of a brown, conspicuous envelope that was laid in the middle of his residence with no recollection of how it could've gotten there. engraved upon it read 'justice for your loved one'. did he find it suspicious? yes. did he still open it? yes.

upon reading the contents, he felt as if he had lost control of his body, the envelope and its contents falling with a dull thud as he tried to process the information contained. but, however, it made everything click into place for him. inside contained documents of information passed between you and a classified individual. information that lead to you taking the fall to spare the hunting dogs of being framed for the crime you ultimately were framed with. a crime that no doubt would of lead to the disbanding of the hunting dogs.

justice was cruel. and what was even crueler was the fate of the fact that he bore for these past years. all this time he had been led to believe you truly had committed these crimes of your own volition, that he had doubted your innocence. but now he had learnt the truth and he had two options. to continue on knowing that everyone else hated you for what you did or to spread the truth and avenge your name and bribg peace to your final resting. a final will to justice.

ōkura teruko ★↷

teruko had two people that she truly admired in her life. the commander and you. she truly looked up to you in a way siblings would and you reciprocated the feeling just the same. she never really gave a thought into what being associated with her meant for you, she had occasionally but she had come to the conclusion that the both of you were perfectly strong enough to protect each other.

you however had thought more about the risks, but they quickly were oberlooked. you understood them yes, but the last thing you wanted to do was to just leave teruko. you two had made a silly child like promise to always look out for each other. and sometimes, now, she thought she could've honoured that a bit more.

she spent alot of time blocking out the noise of people telling her what happened or even just talking about it, mind spiralling into thought after thought about what could've driven you to commit such a crime. she lived in denial, no there's no way you could or would do anything like that, is what she told herself over and over again to block out the noises or glaring at those that sttill spoke ill of your name. fellow hunting dogs could only look upon her in pity.

that was until she received a few files. files detailing conversations - more like threats - sent to her that were intercepted by you. she stared at the words in disbelief. you had taken the fall for her, you had prevented her from being framed. but at a cost she didn't seem fit. while it brought her some clarity, knowing that your name could be cleared and hopefully grant you honour in death, she was unhappy that it was because of her that lead you to that fate.

many people tried telling her that it wasn't her fault entirely but she couldn't help but harbour the guilt of knowing that if she had distanced herself from you, you would be alive and well. but the more that she thought about it, the more she started realising that you took her silly idea of being found siblings and forever protecting each other a bit to serious and she admired you for that.

[nkirukaj]

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe (2)

It's a double feature! Here take it! Take Chapter 2!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of sexual activity?

Genre: Angst?

Word Count: 3.8K

<Chapter 1

2. Freaky Face

“You’re a deer!” Was the first thing she said in response

“Indeed I am, darling. Though most tend not to mention it.”

“That’s cool!”

Alastor’s smile grew wider at her child-like reaction “Why thank you.” was all he said

“So what’s your name, you cutie patootie?” Charlie interjected, lovely as ever “We gotta have your name if you’re gonna stay here!”

“My name? It’s…” she stared at herself in the mirror, thinking of what she was now. She was different, yet felt the same. “My name is Voe.” A mix of the old and the new. “Yeah, Voe.”

“Amazing! Love it! Now let’s get you settled, Voe!”

Charlie had felt the need to show her absolutely everything, including the floors that she wouldn’t be staying on. The room she would be staying in was on the 9th floor. The room was equipped with a bed, a small closet, and a full bathroom, including a tub and a shower. She spoke very fast and very much. She spoke about everything. It got to a point that Voe started to tune her out. Her voice became background noise as she studied the patterns and pictures on the walls, wondering how she had the time to do this with every new guest that came to the hotel. Vaggie and Alastor had decided to join them as well, however they were not speaking. She examines the girlfriends’ faces. Charlie had her arms open and was gesturing around quickly, and her eyes were wide and alert, while Vaggie’s eye was somewhat lidded, and her arms were focused inward. Her eye was only focused on either Charlie or the floor. Voe concluded that Charlie was the bright and friendly one, whereas Vaggie was the more standoffish one. 

Alastor though…she could not get as much of a read on him because he chose to stay at the back of the group, and she couldn’t exactly get a clear look a him without very conspicuously turning her head. What she had seen of him that she could picture was his lankiness and his large sharp smile. His smile was constantly in place with only slight deviations between moments. In the time she’d had to look at him, his smile did not budge. 

“And that’s the end of the tour. Any questions?” Charlie beamed at the doe

“Um, so you have like magic right?”

“Well, yes…but I meant questions about the hotel-“ the princess mumbled under her breath

“Can you fix my glasses?” Voe pulls the cracked frames out of her pocket, the lenses gone and legs off-kilter. Charlie leans down and examines them.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure Alastor can help!”

Alastor blinks as if he’s just been brought back down to reality “Hmm?”

Voe turns to him “Can you fix my glasses?” She asks in a flat tone

“Of course!” He puts his hand out and she places the frames in them. Green and black energy starts circling the frames and they pop up as good as new

“Nice!” She takes the frames back and looks at them

“Aww, I’m so sorry! You were walking around here blind and I didn’t even notice!”

“Well, I actually don’t need them,” She smiles “I can see just fine. But I like to have them,” she places the glasses on her face. 

“Oh,” Charlie’s eyes widen as she turns to her partner

Voe turns back to Alastor, who is grinning absentmindedly. She stares at him for a moment before his pupils move down to focus on her

“Did you need something else, my dear?”

She cocks her head “No…” she drags the word out, slowly turning away from him

____________________________________________________________

Voe laid on her back in the bed of the hotel room that Charlie had shown her. What does it mean to be redeemed? How would she know when she was? Or if she was?

There were a lot of things she didn’t know, but what she did know for sure was that she would definitely go stir-crazy if she was kept in this room with nothing for her to do. She left the hotel room and sauntered down to the front desk where Charlie and Vaggie were standing and having a conversation

“So…Charlie!” She interrupts them with a wave “Would it be possible for you to give me money? Because I think that it would make my path to redemption a whole lot easier if I had a phone, a camera, and a laptop.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true.” 

“Wait wait!” Vaggie stepped in “How is that essential to your redemption?”

“Because…” Voe drags out her words, looking for something to say “It gives me something to do. I personally feel that if I’m being productive, I will be a much better person. You know, instead of feeling awful about myself because I’m just sitting in bed all day.” She glances at Charlie, whose eyes turn sad

“I don’t know about Charlie just giving out money.”

“Oh nonsense! Charlie loves giving out money! She talked about it on the tour!” 

“I did! I do!” Charlie drops a stack of cash into Voe’s open palms

“Amazing, great. You’re the best!” She called to Charlie as she was on her way out the door.

When she returned, she had a plethora of bags. About 10, 5 in each hand. She’d developed the skill of carrying lots of bags in life, and luckily for her, it became easier in death.

“Geez! How much fucking shit did you buy?” A tall and thin white spider. Voe’s jaw dropped when she saw him, she run’s over bringing the bags with her

“Oh my gosh! You’re so beautiful! And you look social! Hi, I’m Voe!” she waves at him

He sits up and smiles “Well thank you. Finally, someone’s appreciatin’ my good looks! And the name’s Dust. Angel Dust.” he does sparkly fingers over his face

“Angie ya bitch! How gay can you be?” A sexy Cyclops woman with a crop top, ripped jeans, a boot, and a flat.

“How much of a whore can you be?” Angel says with a smirk

“I’m a whore?” She laughs, punching him in the shoulder

“Yeah, I do it for pay!”

The Cyclops woman punches him a few more times before noticing Voe “She’s still standing there,” she whispers to him. He looks back over to the doe.

“Welcome to the Hotel! Wait, what I am doin’ I don’t work here.” Angel slinks back down, the length of his body taking up the entirety of the couch.

“Hi, you’re sexy. I’m Voe! What’s your name?” She asks to the Cyclops

“Cherri Bomb…nice to meet you.” She looks a bit apprehensive before turning to the deer. She sits next to Angel, lifting his legs and letting them lay over her lap. He sits up and removes his legs

“Do y’all have Sinstagram? This is mine.” She shows Angel Dust her phone

“Voe the Bee-ow?”

“It’s pronounced like ‘bow’. It’s rhymes!”

“Oh.” Angel looks towards Cherri, silently asking for her to save “That’s nice.”

“Well, we’re gonna go,” She leans down to whisper to Angel “I got some wicked LSD, we can forget whatever the fuck that was”

“Aw Cherri, you know I’m tryna get off that stuff,”

“Alright stay then. Stay here ya’ lousy bitch!”

He scrambles to get up “I’m still comin’”

Cherri and Angel speedwalk out the hotel doors, leaving Voe on the couch alone. They were nice. She thought.

Technically, Voe did ask Charlie for money to get a laptop, a camera, and a smartphone. However, Charlie, being so nice, gave Voe way more than she needed for everything, so she also decided to make some stops at other stores, to get things like a tripod, a ringlight, and maybe some clothes. She set up all her electronics, making sure that the ringlight was in the right place to highlight her best features, and then pressed record.

“Hey, I’m Voe the Beau and I’m here to give you all my opinions on things such as makeup, beauty trends, and technology! Today I’ll start by showing you my outfit hall from today.”

She tried on dresses, blouses, shirts, pants, leggings, and shoes all for the camera, making comments about every single one.

“Now I love the pattern and length on this blouse, but the trimmings make it look like I’m about to go churn some butter,” she chuckles and snorts “and some of these shirts are not ear-friendly. So if you have ears at the top of your head like me,” she points to her ears “Then watch out. Maybe avoid this brand?” Voe zeroes in on the tag “Sinners’eye? Yeah, don’t shop there if you have ears like mine. The hats they sell don’t even have holes in them! So non-inclusive! Also by the way does anyone know a brand or store that sells satin bonnets with ear holes? Because it is incredibly uncomfortable to sleep with my ears covered. I feel like I’m deaf! Or at least like anybody can come into my room without me knowing, like shit! I will say that the shoes come with a hooves-friendly warranty which is great, not for me personally, because I don’t have hooves. No sir, I traded that for this big black schnoz.” She points to her nose. While trying on another dress, she tells the camera “I kinda dig having a tail.” She yanked on it with a bit of force on camera “I’m like a dangerous furry” she growled jokingly with bared claws. She stands directly in front of the lens once more ”I’m thinking of trying makeup next for my video, comment some brands that you think I should try. For makeup, clothes, or tech. I’m Voe the Beau, so let me know!” She wiggles her fingers as a goodbye and gets up to stop recording. 

After sitting in silence for a moment. Voe gets up to retrieve the camera. After connecting it to her computer, she turns it on and sees herself. 

“Hey everybody! My name is Voe! Ugh no. Hey, what up motherfuckers! Ugh, what? That’s way too tryhard. My GOSH, let me just do it.”

She turns on presses record again and suddenly she’s live. 

“Hey, what up Pentagram City? Y’all can call me Voe the Beau, and I’m here to tell y’all what’s Gucci and what needs to go kablooey! As you can see I love rhyming ha ha!” Is heard from demon’s smartphones, tablets, and computers. She hadn’t exactly been expecting zero views, but she definitely wasn’t expecting to get around 1,000 on her first live. 

What can I say? I really am that bitch. 

“So I just got down here to Hell and let me just say, why do we just fall out of the sky into concrete with no idea where we are or what we’re doing? I can goddamn guarantee you that the souls that go to Heaven don’t have to go through that! There’s no welcome committee or nothing. Nothing to ease you in, and I’m like ‘damn’! It’s like getting rammed in the ass with a cactus. And why is everything red? I swear the sky is red, the buildings are red, everyone wears red, or like shades and accents of it. It’s like the only color you see around here is red. I, myself am partial to the color pink. Specifically hot pink, as you can see from the fabulous outfit that I have on right now. Do you guys want to see my outfit? Of course, you do.”

She pushes her chair back and stands in front of the camera, showing off her hot pink blouse and black pants with hot pink wedges.

“I adore these shoes. Do y’all like my shoes? I got them from Sinnera’eye, but beware to all you cats and rabbits, and other animals with ears on your head they don’t carry clothes for you. You can see my full review in the video I’m going to upload later!”

Words begin scrolling up the screen and Voe leans into her laptop to read them.

“Who am I? Well, I’m Voe! I said that at the start. Someone needs a lesson in paying attention. And as you’ll come to learn-I am that bitch Any other questions? How old am I? I’m 27 and like I said, I just got down here to Hell.”

Oh Christ Gen Z is dying now

Do you guys think she’s in Hell ‘cuz she’s gay?

Are you gay?

“Yes, bitch I’m gay as fuck! I love me some pussy! I could eat that shit day in and day out. It’s my favorite snack!”

Is that your real name?

Are you Italian?

“As far as you need to know, yes that’s my name. And no I’m not Italian, I’m blickity Black!”

Does this bitch even know the difference between race and nationality?

“Yes, I know the fucking difference! I wasn’t fucking done. Slut!” She shoots back at the commenter “I just wanted to let y’all know that! No misconceptions. ‘Cuz people used to say I was Hispanic or something all the time when I was alive, and I sure as fuck ain’t letting y’all whores do it!”

Her voice is heard from many devices in Hell, including some in the hotel. Demons are crashing into walls or falling down the stairs from the sheer captivation of her sound and her image.

“So I’m staying at the Hazbin Hotel, run by Charlie...? Charlie something, she ain’t say her last name. And she is cute as fuck. Charlie is so adorable, she’s so light and bubbly and I’m like that could never be me.” She cackles into the camera “Running a Hotel of a bunch of ungrateful ass bitches, could never be me! She got a girlfriend too. Her name’s Vaggie! She is so pretty, honestly, they are both mad cute and they cute together. I’m not gonna break them up like I used to do to people. Hmm? She’s the what? Princess? Holy shit, Charlie’s a Princess? Lucifer? That motherfucker’s real? I need to meet him. Is he hot?”

While walking down the halls a certain facility manager of this hotel seems a bit put off by the lack of people that are running at the sheer sight of him, only to discover that they are glued to their devices. He rolls his eyes. Demons don’t know true entertainment anymore. Back in his day, whole towns used to gather around the radios and listen to what stories the hosts were about to spin. Now everyone’s addicted to these miniature picture boxes that rot their brains even faster than the real thing.

Although walking past these wayward souls had the Radio Demon’s ears pricked at a certain sound. A certain voice. He halts his pursuit to listen from afar.

“Apparently, I’m a doe which is super sick, and I’m the only one that I’ve seen for the few days that I’ve been here. But there’s a stag here with me. Well, not with me, but like-“ the voice pauses “No, here at the hotel. Huh? He’s like tall and really thin. Nah like lanky, bruh.” she laughs “It’s not bad! I didn’t even say anything mean! Yeah, yeah, yeah. And he’s got on a bunch of red, with little antlers on his head. Yeah, he’s got ears on top of his head, it looks like hair, but it’s ears. A doe knows.”

Alastor could hear the smugness in her voice. Who was she to be discussing him on her pathetic technological picture box? Who was she at all?

“Yeah! He’s got this big ass grin all the time.”

The comments start flooding in much quicker than before.

That’s the Radio Demon!

You’re there with the RADIO DEMON

THE RADIO DEMON DIDN’T KILL YOU?

the radio demon isn’t even all that i heard he got his ass kicked 

FUCK THE RADIO DEMON!!!!!!!!11!!!!1!!!!11!

“The Radio Demon..? Huh? This guy said his name was Alastor”

THAT’S THE RADIO DEMON

THAT’S HIS NAME 

OMGGGGGGG!!!1!!1!1!!1!!!!!!!

“Oh. So Alastor is the Radio Demon? Why ya call him that?” 

Alastor’s grin grows knowing that his reputation is still intact and keeps on his merry way. Still wondering why this girl felt the need to bring him up at all. Still, he would find that all out in due time.

______________________________________________________________

Charlie had asked for all the residents to be down at 8:30 in the morning, which is a disgusting time to expect people to be awake and ready to interact with people. So Voe came down at 9, even that was pushing it.  All the other demons were already down, so Voe commanded all the attention when she strutted in like a celebrity.

“Sorry to be late, but 8 AM is ridiculous.” She plops down on one of the couches

“That’s okay!” Charlie reassured her “We just finished breakfast and now we’re doing the first activity of the day!”

Angel points to one of the plates on the table “There’s still toast.” He glances back down at the plate, “Oop, well there’s crust.” Niffty runs by and grabs the plate “Never mind.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need to eat.”

“Huh, I guess you don’t” Angel returns to his phone.

“All right, everyone!” Charlie tries to get their attention “Everyone! Oh gosh, we’ve never had this many guests before” she whispers to Vaggie. She gets slightly louder. “Everyone! We’re just about to get started, okay so everyone listen up, please!” Everyone lowers their volume, though some, including Voe, remain distracted by their phones. The click-clacking of dress shoes is heard descending the stairs, everyone turns their heads to see Alastor approaching the parlor.

“Alastor! You’re just in time for our first activity of that day!” Charlie smiles widely at the red demon

“Oh? So it appears I’m early..” He turns on his heels and retreats back up the staircase.

“Oooo-kay! So, we’re going to go around and introduce ourselves and say one interesting thing you did while you were alive!

Ugh. Voe always hated these when she was alive. It’s always so nerve-wracking to think about. What do other people find interesting? She could never figure it out! They went all the way around, from demons talking about how they’ve hosted the 7’o clock news, to catching butterflies, to fucking 5 bitches in the same night.

“I tried Heroin for the first time and then died.” Angel offered

“You only tried it once before dying?”

“Well, I’d already done a bunch of drugs that day, but when my friend came with the horse, I knew I had to try it! Then I died.” 

“No way! I died with an actual horse! It kicked me in the ribs!”

“This is going great! Not exactly what I had planned but this working Vaggie!” Charlie is filled to the brim with excitement 

“No one gives a fuck about your horse,” Angel responded. “I was talking about heroin.”

“I know…” the girl said, sounding disappointed

“What?”

“Why can’t I make any friends?”

“You’re up new girl,” Angel gestured to Voe, who sat in silence for a moment, still pondering on what to say. She started sweating from all the pressure of the eyes being on her and her being unprepared. She couldn’t think of anything, at all. All that she could remember was her little sexcapades. She was rich of course, she had done cool things, so why couldn’t she remember any of them?

“Hey,” Angel Dust interrupted her thoughts after what seemed like forever “Weren’t you on live yesterday?”

Voe’s demeanor brightens up “Oh, yeah! I’m guessing you caught it?”

“Yeah, I caught that live too!” another demon chimed in, soon the majority of the room was buzzing about her live. Voe beamed at being able to speak on something she was prepared for.

“So you into Freaky Face or something?”

“Angel! Don’t just assume things!” Charlie butt in, also interested in the live

“I’m sorry, Freaky Face?”

“Alastor.” The whole room responded to her

Voe shakes her head quickly, “Oh no no no. I was just commenting on the fact that he’s the only deer I’ve seen besides myself.”

“Mhmm, I guess you could say mating season is open.”

“Ha! That was funny ‘mating season’” said the horse girl, to which Angel responded with a blank stare

“He’s good-looking! I can’t be the only one that thinks that. I am not the only one that thinks that. Stop making me look crazy!”

“No one even said anything,”

“Actually mating season for deer is between October and December” Voe interjects

“Well,” Charlie tries to take charge of the conversation “Alastor is a very nice-looking male.”

Vaggie speaks from behind her girlfriend “He’s…okay. But did we forget that he’s a vicious overlord who not only owns many souls but is a psychopathic, deal-making, mass-murdering cannibalistic monster?”

“Really? But he’s like…” Voe trails off, making gestures with her hands

“Like what?” Angel Dust probes

“Like,” she thinks “Cute.” some of the demons are taken aback by her claim

“You think Alastor is ‘cute’?” Vaggie questioned, hands on her hips and full of skepticism. 

“Yeah,” Voe shrugged “Like, it’s giving…stuffed animal. Or like a pet dog”

“Nah she hasn’t seen all the creepy shit he’s done around here yet. That opinion’ll disappear real soon.” Angel Dust took a swig of his drink “Don’t say that shit to him!” he laughs to himself.

“What is… ‘it’s giving’?” Charlie asked innocently 

“Ugh.” Voe slapped her hand on her forehead “It’s just… I don’t know like, that’s a vibe.”

“Vibe?” 

“It’s just the feeling you get from someone or something,” she shakes her head “I forgot y’all are ancient.”

“Wait, so what do you think of him though?” Angel questioned point-blank

“I don’t think anything about him, I don’t know him.”

“So why’d you talk about him during your live?”

“I don’t know, because he’s a buck! That’s literally it!”

“Mhmm.” Angel takes another swig

“Wait, are you shipping us just because we’re both deer?” Voe looks confused

“I’m so glad that you all feel a sense of community!” said Charlie, after having clearly lost control of the conversation. Vaggie tapped her shoulder to tell her to just give it up. Most demons were just talking amongst themselves at this point, including Angel Dust and Voe, when the very demon they spoke about made his appearance once again.

“I hope that I’m actually on time now.” Alastor stands just outside the parlor, as the demons are instantly quiet in the presence of a supposedly cruel overlord. He had all the eyes in the room on him, saying nothing.

“Well, Alastor we just finished our activity.”

“Wonderful, so I am on time!” He glances at the clock above the fireplace “Well, I have errands to run.”

“You literally just got down here,” Vaggie spoke with annoyance in her tone

“And now I literally have to leave. Best of luck chums!” He exits the hotel and the air is filled with noise again. Voe stares after him. She didn’t notice before that he had a radio filter on his voice. Was that natural or on purpose? 

“Whatcha lookin’ at toots?” he whispers in her ear

Voe looks back at him “Oh, um nothing.”

“Uh huh, maybe you’re not so weird,” he tops off his drink

“Thanks?”

Chapter 3>

[alicole-sideblog]

Framing Aemond's disability

I'm not quite sure how to articulate this, but something about the Larys-Aegon scene in 2.06 — they talk like the two of them are the only disabled men in their immediate circle, like this is a unique experience that only they understand.

It's like they don't think of Aemond as disabled. Even though obviously he is. But also, like... in the language of the show, he's kinda not?

We haven't seen Aemond's disability actually physically hinder him in any way. The show thus far has acted like there are no logistical consequences of having one eye. When Aemond and Criston are sparing in 1.08, with a morningstar flying close to Aemond's face, his vision and distance perception seem functionally perfect.

(To qualify all of this, we know that Aemond is trying very hard to compensate for his disability and not appear vulnerable. We've also mostly seen him at home, in a familiar environment. If there were to be a scene of Aemond's disability being an issue at some point, I wouldn't be surprised, nor would I see this as at odds with this prior depiction. I'm just saying that this is how it's been framed so far.)

The reaction to Aemond's maiming is the most conspicuously not-whitewashing-Rhaenyra moment of the show to date. Emma said in an interview that Rhaenyra is in the wrong. In this interview, Ewan mentions all the adults in the room that night who stood by and did nothing. I do think that the creative department understands — at least a little bit — just how heinous that was. But they're also not willing to really commit to it.

I think the downplaying of Aemond's disability has something to do with that. The notion that a kid was literally disabled in a way that will limit him for the rest of his life, and Viserys and Rhaenyra wrote it off as whatever, puts Rhaenyra's selfishness into too stark of relief.

So Aemond's loss of an eye is treated more like a scar: an ever-present reminder of the event that caused it, but only a reminder. It's not a disability, it has no functional consequences.

[aedesluminis]

Most ridiculous thing Carnot has ever done?

Sorry for the late, dear Anon.

This took me a while to reply, since, during his life, Carnot had put himself in rather problematic situations, that led him to act in ways that can be considered embarrassing (1) by various people with different views. So it was hard for me to choose just one thing: a specific thing that he did, which might be seen as foolish and careless by someone, might not be viewed in the same way by another person.

I'm pretty sure that what I'm about to say has a chance to the considered ridiculous by many - if not all - here on Frevblr. I'm referring to the fact that he accepted the cross of Saint-Louis, becoming de facto a member - a knight to be more precise - of the homonymous order, just a few months before the trial of the king. I don't know for sure when exactly he received it, but it definitely happened in 1792, according to L'Histoire de l'ordre royal et militaire de Saint-Louis (p. 493-494).

The order of Saint-Louis was an ancient cavalry order founded in 1693 by Louis XIV, the "Sun King". Until the latter's death it was intended as a prestigious and profitable (2) reward for officers who had distinguished themselves through their feats, but in later years, it started to be treated as a decoration which officers eventually achieved. It's also important to point out that non-nobles could be admitted in the order and it was easier to join for engineering officers, like Carnot. Requirements were further lowered in a series of decrees by the Legislative Assembly and sanctioned by Louis XVI (3) and the order was eventually suppressed on 15 October 1792.

Personally, I find questionable the decision to receive such a reward, after the flight of Varennes, or worse after the 10 of August (again I don't know exactly when he was granted that). On one hand, I can understand the desire for prestige and the conspicuous pension he would have received, allowing him to retire in peace, as well as the fact that he grew up in a world, in which being a knight of Saint-Louis was seen as honorable and worthy of praise. On the other one, we are talking about something which was intrinsically part of an old oppressive system, that Carnot himself was contributing to reform; not to mention that the highest authority of that system and head of the order was found guilty of treason against his people at the time Carnot accepted the cross.

Notes

(1) I'm referring to things that revealed themselves to be embarrassing for him only, so nothing that caused harm to other people. Framing his responsibilities in the arrestation of the Babuovistes as ridiculous would be an euphemism if what I read from bits here and there is true.

(2) Members of the order of Saint-Louis were granted a special pension which added itself to that of the military rank at the time of retirement.

(3) For the decrees see A. Mazas, T. Anne, L'Histoire de l'ordre royal et militaire de Saint-Louis, Tome 2 (1860) (p. 502-504).

[aindyghosh]

My Heart Beats For You (Agatha/Rio)

“You don’t have a heart.” “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you.” ~ Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal, Episode 1 of Agatha All Along

💜

Rio hated Agatha. Despised her. Few were as wretched as Agatha Harkness, the killer of witches.

The woman wouldn't hesitate for so much as a second to steal your power and leave you helpless and penniless on the side of a random street in a faraway village ruled by harsh anti-witch sentiments. Or rat you out to the so-called "authorities" to save her own hide. Or raid your home after a blissful night of lovemaking sex and flee with the grimoire that had taken you shy of a century and nearly your head to acquire.

The clicking of the door drew her attention and she gave the woman an instinctive once-over. Untamed—more than usual (“This is my witchy aesthetic! We have a reputation to maintain, you killjoy!”)—frizzy hair, undoubtedly a result of her nervous tic of tugging at her locks, a blue tartan shirt, that Agatha Harkness wouldn't be caught dead looking at let alone wearing, hanging off her shoulders, red spots marring her previously flawless pale skin, a testament to the neglect she'd been putting herself through ever since she became this mockery of a person she once was.

But it was her eyes that hammered the final nail in the coffin—weak, powerless, vulnerable, everything Agatha Harkness was decidedly not.

An irrational urge to dig up the Scarlet Witch's remains from under the ruins of Mount Wundagore, bring her back to life and give her a death as fucked as her spell threatened to overwhelm her.

"What are you doing here?"

Rio found herself wanting to smile at the scepticism lacing the woman's voice. Lost and adrift as she was, literally, being mistrustful of anybody who came knocking on her door was such a her thing to do. "Pizza?" She held up the rectangular box. "I figured if we are to solve the murder case, we better put in the hours, right?"

Agatha alternated her gaze between her and the pizza box for a minute that seemed to stretch on forever before beckoning her in with a defeated sigh. Rio's lips twitched at the familiarity of the gesture.

The house was nothing like she had envisioned for Agatha's residence to be and at the same time, she could see a part of the woman in every corner of the decoration. The purple pillows that contrasted the bright mustard walls and risked giving an eyesore to anybody not inured to Agatha's Agatha-ness; the conspicuous paintings that cost a hundred times more than they were worth, in her humble opinion; the multitude of spell books populating the wooden bookshelves; the mirrors placed around every other corner for Agatha to admire herself whenever she fancied.

Rio took a seat in a black-and-white wing chair. "Nice place you've got here."

"It probably needs a solid renovation, but it's home." It took every bit of Rio's self-control to not cringe. "Drink?"

"If you have a beer. Thanks."

"Have you ever met a cop with no beer in their fridge?"

"Good point." Rio conceded with a dip of her head. "By the way, did you know you have a fan club here?"

"A fan club?" Her bewildered face peeked over the refrigerator's open door frame. "What are you talking about?"

"Mm-hmm. Led by this girl called Beverly. Said she assisted you on a case."

"Oh, yeah!" Agatha shook her head with an abashed smile. "The, uh, Aaron Fueller case. She'd just joined. A near disaster, that one."

"Why?"

"She was a rookie, right? So, one day, I say to her, 'Has the suspect been seen in the last twenty-four hours?' And she says, 'Only on TikTok.' I ask her, "Well, did you learn anything?' You know what she replied?" Rio attempted to forge an intrigued expression to match the woman’s excitement, but it didn't seem like Agatha required an external stimulus to continue her story. Which was a good thing because Rio wasn't feeling all that generous to indulge this ridiculous behaviour. "She said, 'That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.' Can you believe it?"

Rio responded with a polite chuckle before taking a swig from the bottle. She'd have preferred something much stronger than this for the conversation she had in mind, but she also needed to retain her composure for that exact reason.

The moment of levity subsided soon, as it was bound to, and Agatha shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable. Awkwardness. A long time ago, before Rio became closely acquainted with Agatha, she had imagined the woman as infallible. It hadn't taken her time to see through the unflappable facade, but irrespective of its falsity, its presence had once been irrefutable.

And now, Agatha Harkness' discomfort was laid bare for any amateur to notice.

Oh, how the mighty fall! Rio supposed, given their history, she should feel some amount of joy—vindication, even—but no introspection was necessary for her to realise the lack of any pleasure.

"I have a lead in the case," Agatha said after a minute.

That wasn't why she'd come over. "Go ahead."

Agatha scraped a thumb across her chin. Back and forth. Back and forth. "There was a car wreck about an hour before the time of death."

"Where?"

"Eastview."

Rio sucked her cheeks in. "Eastview?” Huh. “See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield."

"Hey, I travel! I'm worldly!" Indignation and defensiveness filled her tone.

"Where have you travelled?"

Agatha's mouth parted to reply. Rio knew better than to expect a proper response with a list of the places she'd visited in her lifetime—perhaps listing those she hadn't would be far less of a Herculean task—but the sheer child-like confusion that took her features captive was an unwelcome confirmation of her suspicions about the depth of the Scarlet Witch's spell.

Rio cleared her throat. "Okay, so what about the car wreck?"

Agatha, to her credit, grabbed the new thread of topic with both hands. "Bloodstain in the back seat."

"You think that's how they moved her?"

"Front two airbags deployed."

"Maybe two perps."

"Maybe."

Did it feel ludicrous discussing the "murder" of the woman responsible for Agatha's pitiful condition? Add some all-consuming fury to that, and the answer would be yes. Would that stop her from humouring Harkness and her apparent True Crime passion? "But you don't like it." Rio took another big gulp of the beer, the distant bitterness a mild tingle in the back of her throat.

"My gut tells me they're related, but I can't shake this feeling I'm seeing it wrong."

Rio leaned forward, pressing her elbows against her thighs. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember why you hate me?"

Agatha seemed to mull the question over in her head. Rio was content to allow her the time to do so, fairly certain about the answer she'd receive. And she was proven right when the woman mumbled a "No."

Had Rio belonged to the kind that believed in a higher power, she'd have assumed this to be a sign from her stars or the like, the Universe conspiring to bring the two of them together again. The stuff of the romance novels; sweet, tempting and absolute brain rot.

Rio chugged the rest of her beer and jumped to her feet, stunning Agatha into silence. She nudged the woman's sprawled-out leg to make space for herself and plopped down on the couch beside her. "Can I ask you another question?"

"I don't think you're going to stop regardless of what I say, so sure."

"Is this really how you see yourself?" she repeated her question from earlier at the 'precinct.'

"This is the second time you're asking that. What do you mean?"

"I mean"—she inched closer to the woman and brushed a gentle finger on her cheek—"don't you think something is missing? Something that you had but no longer do?"

Agatha bit down on her bottom lip and peered at her from under her eyelashes, her green gaze resembling a siren's. "I don't think this is appropriate."

Rio blinked. "What?"

"We should maintain a professional relationship." Agatha averted her gaze and muttered something along the lines of, "At least for the duration of the case."

Professional relation for the duration of the case—what? Rio looked down, only now noticing the lack of gap between them. Agatha Harkness—the real one—would have concluded it as another power play or intimidation tactic. It was almost refreshing to be taken at face value. Never one to play safe, she stroked the nape of her neck, allowing a smirk to twist her lips. "Do you want to, though? Be professional, that is, Agatha?"

"I—" The noise of objects clattering on the upper floor shattered the moment snapped Agatha out of her trance. "I'll go...check that out." She tossed her one last glance and scurried out of the room with an adorable frown corrugating her forehead.

💜

Rio grew aware of Agatha breaking free of her "Agnes" shell the exact second it happened—or rather, the exact second she announced it to the unsuspecting people of Westview by strutting around her lawn, harried and very, very naked. A piece of news like that tended to travel extra fast. Oh, how she wished she'd been present for the performance! For blackmail purposes, of course!

Fighting her, attempting to stab her—because let's face it, Agatha Harkness was hardly ever exposed when not combatting the Scarlet Witch's mind-fuckery—was just because she could. And maybe a teensy bit because of her vengeful part overpowering the more docile side of herself.

Agatha should thank her lucky stars that it was Rio who found her first and not any of her Salem coven's witches. They'd have ripped her apart, limb by limb, and danced on her grave. At least, this way, there would be a body to bury.

But she couldn't do it, and she knew that long before Agatha conjured that pouty, doe-eyed face to convince her against killing the woman.

"You don't want me like this." Wrong. "Me without power. This is undignified." She exhaled a nervous chuckle. "Admit it. You prefer me—"

"Horizontal?" Rio smirked. "In a grave?"

Agatha's jaw clicked. "Formidable."

Rio stared at the nick she'd caused between her collarbones, the blood trickling down the spot a stark contrast against her pale skin that was now brighter and healthier since the previous night. "You know I'm not the only person that wants you dead, right? Or wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown."

"Is there another option?"

"Oh, yes, plenty! Do you want me to list them—"

"No, thank you. I'm good." Agatha visibly swallowed. "Tell you what?" She approached with uncharacteristic slow steps. "Let me get my purple back and you'll be the first person to know, I promise."

Cute. Rio hummed. "Or I could sit back and watch while they tear you apart. Body part..."—she ran her dagger along the crook of her neck and south of her cleavage, relishing in the way her breathing picked up—"...by body part." She took Agatha's palm, injured from when she'd sliced herself on the wrong side of the dagger in a laughable effort to snatch it from her. "I am going to tell them your location, FYI. Expect them to be knocking on your door by sundown."

"Who's 'they?'"

Rio scanned Agatha, head to toe. A Boho-chic robe that did nothing to hide her erect nipples and bare feet that did wonders for Rio's imagination. She smiled. "The Salem Seven," she said and licked at the cut, the blood tasting a perpetually curious mix of metallic and sweet on her tongue. She caressed the woman's left cheek, her mild surprise at Agatha's eyes falling shut being replaced by the rush of warmth all but consuming her.

"Take care, Agatha," Rio whispered, and she had every bit of intention to walk away, but then the woman's piercing gaze dropped to her lips, and well, she had never been particularly strong against her intrusive thoughts.

Their lips met in an unexpectedly gentle embrace, the feeling not unlike two imperfect pieces of a puzzle slotting together despite the impossibility of such a pairing, but that was Agatha and her relationship. By every definition, a paradox that wasn't supposed to work together, and yet they did; because in the end, Rio's heart would always beat for Agatha Harkness.

[sir-buh]

Marten Larue loredump

500 years ago, the planet Marten comes from was invaded by SecComm (lots of canon lore for them, but most of it's irrelevant. They're space nazis). SecComm chose a large plateau as their staging ground, as it was isolated, defensible, and populated by low-tech nomads. They easily squashed the local population, and set about spreading their war and influence across the planet.

However, the people who had been brutally and casually subjugated still existed, and tried to rebel. This rebellion was immediately crushed. As was the one after that, and the one after that. These people, whose names and history are lost to time, must have looked around, seen their culture being sandblasted away, and become desperate. They began trying more cutthroat, underhanded, and brutal tactics, eventually resorting to severely punishing failure within their own ranks, often consigning these people to the "Fodder Corps".

Then, by some miracle, SecComm left. Almost overnight, they pulled back from the planet and retreated into space. The leaders of their rebellion, in their current iteration known as the TDP, likely in some state of shock, decided that their efforts had defeated SecComm. Therefore, the brutal and unforgiving internal politics of their rebellion should be the model for their future society they would build from the ashes of their former homeland.

What TDP stood for is lost to time (verbally it's referred to as "tedepon" but it's never spelled that way, nor is it ever referred to verbally by spelling out the acronym), but it exists now as a society built around the concept of "failure" as the chiefest and most egregious sin. The punishments have become far more complex and varied, but the core principle remains the same, and is used to stratify society into those who have failed, those whose ancestors have failed, and those who present themselves and perfect and beyond any sort of failure.

Marten Larue is born into this society to a family of dirt-poor laborers. Knowing their son had a gift for machines, his parents did everything in their power to keep him away from the many shipbreaking, salvaging, and industrial jobs that TDP built its economy off of, as it would paint a target on his back. Instead, he worked in a shrimp farm and spent his off-hours wandering the high-altitude tundra, looking for missed scraps.

over the next five years, he put together some of a mech. He had no dreams to compete in the mech arenas, but what little he had seen and heard of these competitions gave him a deep desire to build a machine worthy of such titanic clashes. Then, one day, he discovered the greatest find of his life.

A mech frame Marten didn't recognize lay mostly buried in the frozen earth, tucked away at the bottom of a little-known ravine. He dug it up, removed the ruined limbs, and restored the surprisingly well-preserved body. Attaching the parts from his ongoing project, his mech was almost complete! Little did he know, the land he had taken this salvage from had already been claimed for salvage, and when a surveyor noticed a conspicuous hole, Marten was tracked down and arrested for stealing.

As punishment for his crime, he would enter the service of the man who he had stolen from: a member of the ruling elite. This man assigned his mech the name Centihumeros, or "hundred shoulders." The hundred shoulders belonging to the founders of TDP, and whose victory had allowed for all that had come afterwards. The hundred shoulders upon which more praise would be heaped, if Marten were to achieve any victory at all in the arena in an incomplete mech made from scrap. And just before his first fight, Marten was branded with his gladiator's mark: upon his upper back reads "pénitence par la victoire."

In his first battle, Marten almost died. He had been given a crash course in piloting, but actual combat was completely different. That is until he accidentally activated his mech's signature ability: a portal straight to a star. A beam of stellar matter shot across the arena, melting an enormous hole straight through his opponent and presumably killing her in an instant.

The gladiatorial arena in TDP has a lot of money wrapped up in it. Gladiators are typically transported between arenas in secret, to prevent kidnapping of star warriors by competing lords. But such banditry is still fairly common. So when Marten and his mech were transported to the next arena and his caravan was attacked, it wasn't particularly unheard of. But the botched nature of this attack left Marten with the opportunity to climb over to the Centihumeros and escape. He returned home, stuffed his mother and one of his brothers alongside him in the cramped cockpit, waved a tearful goodbye to the rest of his family, and ran.

Two years later, after evading the authorities across a continent, several borders, and half an ocean, a distress beacon is detected by a passing hovercraft. A mech is barely holding this beacon above the waves. The craft picks up this mech, and ferries it to its destination: the island of Dammerund. On this island is a school. He will enroll in this school, first getting into the engineering track and then getting bumped into the mech-piloting track. He would rather be an engineer, but feels obligated to do everything in his power to reunite with the rest of his family and rescue them from his former country.

[field4thought]

'i swear i am a real man'

one: accept that you will not look completely cis until you have hormones and top surgery.

two: cut your hair as short or long as you like, so long as it frames your face. remember men like jason mamoa have hair as long as you did when you were six.

three: invest in the decent binders, and get actual packing boxers. there are still cool patterns.

four: men don’t cry men don’t cry men don’t cry. you know that’s not strictly true, but you already don’t look manly enough and you will keep what shreds you have.

five: elongate your torso. do not buy shirts that are conspicuously baggy. sweatpants are your bff.

six: stop saying things like bff or totally or omg. instead say best friend and heavy on that and bro, what the fuck? remember that men are usually vulgar and sometimes even sexist.

seven: play along. tell yourself that it doesn’t count as being bad to your girlfriend if it’s because you want, no, you need to fit in with the guys. cry to her in private at midnight.

eight: thank your girlfriend for putting up with your shit. she wants you to be happy.

nine: thank everyone you knew in high school for not saying ‘when he was a girl.’

ten: message your professor before class, tell them your legal name and your real name. Before.

eleven: buy the red toothbrush. Wonder if real men think this much about everything they do.

twelve: remind yourself that you are a real man.

...you are, right?

[theherosvillain]

6: I'm not laughing, you're not joking

Previous - Masterpost - Next

CWs: captivity, gun violence

I paced back and forth across the cell, trying to come up with a loophole—any way, no matter how imperfect, to get me out of this mess. Each time, I came up blank. Sure, I could try to escape, but in this condition, there was no guarantee I’d make it out of the building. Even if I did, Vale would send his henchmen after my friends. I wouldn’t be fast enough to protect them. I wouldn’t even be fast enough to warn them.

For the millionth time in the past few hours, I collapsed on the cot, dread churning in my stomach. The last time I felt this way was right after my mom got arrested. After the third time the League officials laughed me out of their office for saying she wasn’t a villain, I was lying in bed, planning on never getting up again. And then it hit me: I had powers, for fuck’s sake. If the League wouldn’t take Wren Argent seriously, then I’d make them deal with the Phantom Prince instead. I’d make them wish they never framed my mom. I’d make damn sure they never did it to anyone else, either. It wasn’t the best plan, but I had to do something.

And now my plan had come to a screeching halt, all because of Vale. Words couldn’t express how much I hated him for it. Punching him in the face wasn’t enough—although I was glad I’d gotten that split-second satisfaction before he made it clear that I could never hurt him again without facing serious consequences. What the fuck could I do that wouldn’t put my friends in danger? Nothing. There was nothing. I’d gotten myself into a huge mess, and there was no way out.

I hated myself for going after Amoret the other night. If I hadn’t done that, and if she hadn’t taken away my powers, I wouldn’t be here. I knew going after her was stupid and risky and might not pay off, but I had to. I had to track her down and get her confession—but the horrible irony was that none of it mattered anymore. Amoret confessed to framing my mother, but now there was nothing I could do about it.

I could never go home. I would never see my friends or family again, and I would never get my mom out of prison. I was stuck here, for the rest of my life, doing whatever Vale told me to do.

The door opened, and I scrambled to a sitting position, hissing at the pain in my ribs. Vale stood in the doorway, expressionless. “Come with me.”

That sense of dread and hatred still turned my stomach as he silently led me through the empty hallways, but my anxiety skyrocketed when we passed by the office and kept moving. I wanted to ask where the hell we were going, but for once, I thought better of making him angry. I was too exhausted and in too much pain to risk it.

My unease only grew when he pushed open the one exit door and led me upstairs. My heart pounded, but still, I bit my tongue. I tried to reassure myself that whatever was about to happen, it couldn’t be worse than the past few days. But, then again, I’d told myself that before, hadn’t I?

Even through the sleek upstairs hallways, Vale didn’t say a word, and my anxiety only grew. I startled when I heard other footsteps farther down the hall, and I expected to see a group of henchmen up ahead.

What I didn’t expect to see was Vale.

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating, or seeing double. There was no way there were two of him. But the Vale down the hall—a conspicuous bruise gracing his jaw—stared at the one ahead of me like he’d seen a ghost. Then both Vales drew their guns, and the silence dissolved into chaos.

I flattened myself against the wall as the shots went off. I heard a cry of pain, something clattering to the ground, and my ears rang in the silence. The Vale down the hall lowered his gun as the one closest to me crumpled to his knees. Then, as I watched, the one on the ground began to shift—hair darkening and growing longer, the pressed business suit morphing into dark, form-fitting clothing. Suddenly, it wasn’t Vale anymore at all. It was Amoret.

Vale—the real Vale, the one with the bruise—holstered his gun and strode forward. “Vivienne,” he said coolly. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

She took a ragged breath, still kneeling on the ground. My face paled as I spotted blood on the tile. With her back turned to me, I couldn’t see where she’d been hit, but I got the horrible feeling I was about to watch her die. “You know why I’m here,” she replied, her voice laced with pain.

Vale snatched her abandoned gun off the ground, and the safety clicked on. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’re not taking Phantom anywhere.”

She lifted her head defiantly. “You have no right to keep him here,” she snarled. “Just because you’re his father doesn’t mean—”

The blood drained from my face. “What?”

They both went silent. Vale’s eyes flickered over to me. He didn’t look surprised—why didn’t he look surprised?

Amoret glanced at me before turning her accusing gaze toward Vale. “You didn’t even tell him.”

“It wasn’t relevant,” Vale said indifferently.

It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. I put a hand on the wall to keep my balance, but it didn’t help with the sickening feeling growing in my gut. “I’m sorry, what?” I repeated. I stared at Amoret. “You didn’t tell me that!”

She twisted around, and I saw the bloody wound on her wrist, held close to her body. Her eyes were apologetic. “You said you didn’t want to know.”

I did say that, didn’t I? The other night, when she said something like oh, you have your father’s eyes and I rushed to stop her from telling me who he was. Knowing that she was my birth mother was bad enough; I didn’t need to know who my father was, either. I’d assumed it didn’t matter, that I probably hadn’t met him, anyway.

But now, as I looked up at Vale, it became sickeningly clear to me: his eyes a familiar shade of blue; his hair a little darker, streaked with gray, but very nearly the same light brown that mine was. It made me want to throw up. It made me wonder how I’d missed it, all these months. I looked like him—I looked a lot like him.

I wanted Vale to tell me, in that matter-of-fact tone of his, that she was lying—of course he wasn’t my father, that was ridiculous. Except haven’t they known each other since before you were born? my traitorous thoughts whispered. Doesn’t this kind of add up?

But Vale kept his eyes on Amoret, pinning her with a cold stare as she painstakingly rose to her feet. “I’m going to let you walk out of here today,” he murmured, “but if you try to interfere with Phantom again, I will kill you. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” Her icy gaze matched his, but when she glanced over at me, her expression softened. “I’m sorry, Phantom.”

“For what?” My hands curled into fists, but even then, they still trembled. “For ruining my life, or for getting caught?”

She held my stare for a long moment, unflinching. But before she could respond, Vale’s hand landed on her shoulder. “I’ll see you out,” he said. “Phantom, go back downstairs. We’ll discuss this later.”

I didn’t want to discuss it. I wanted to go back in time to five minutes ago, when I didn’t have this revelation hanging over my head like a fucking guillotine. But I just nodded stiffly. Amoret tried to catch my eye, but I wouldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look at her, or him, without breaking out in a cold sweat. As quickly as I could, I skirted past them and headed back toward the basement.

~

“I want you to know,” Vale began, “that my being your father had no bearing on my decision to mentor you.”

I kept my eyes glued to the floor, my back against the wall. In my peripheral vision, I could only see his shoes, barely crossing the threshold of the cell. “Great,” I said, arms tightened across my chest. “That makes this so much better.”

He sighed, sounding annoyed. “Phantom—”

“How long have you known?” My head flicked up, but I quickly shifted my gaze just past him. I didn’t want to look him in the eyes. The memory of Vivienne’s voice echoed in my head (oh, you have your father’s eyes). I barely suppressed a wince.

His tone remained calm and collected, as usual. It pissed me off. My world was crashing down around me, and he was just as unruffled as ever. What did he think of this? “Since I last spoke with Vivienne,” he said.

“Then why—?” The question just slipped out, and I cut myself off. If he hadn’t known about this for any longer than I had, then why had he been harassing me for months? Why kidnap me at all?

For a moment, he was quiet. I slid my gaze back to the floor, heart pounding. “You need guidance,” he said. “You’re very powerful, but you’ll never reach your full potential without some direction.”

“I don’t want to reach my stupid potential!” I sounded like a petulant child, and at the moment, I felt like one, too. I wanted to stomp my foot, or maybe curl up into a ball and cry. I just wanted my mom back. That was the whole reason I became a villain. What was the point of anything if I couldn’t even do that?

“You don’t have a choice.” There wasn’t an ounce of threat in his tone; it was clipped, so damn reasonable. “Considering your lack of training, capture was inevitable. You should be grateful that I got to you before the Hero League did.” My jaw clenched; it felt like my molars were going to crack. The idea that he expected me to be grateful … somehow, I managed to keep myself from closing the distance between us and smacking that sensible look off his face. “There will always be someone more powerful seeking to take advantage of you,” he continued. “The only way to avoid it is to become so powerful that no one will dare to try it.”

My eyes narrowed, even as the logic clicked. I hated to admit that it made sense. I’d spent my whole life hiding my powers for that very reason—if the League got their hands on me, I’d never be free again. That was my main risk in becoming a villain: getting caught and forcibly transformed into one of the League’s heroes. At the same time, though … “And this plan of yours doesn’t involve you taking advantage of my powers?” Fucking hypocrite.

Vale shrugged. “Consider it a trade-off. Someday, you will be powerful enough to get your revenge, and no one will ever take advantage of you again. In the meantime, though, you have a lot to learn.”

I stared at him, an entire life seeming to unfold before my eyes: an adulthood free from my constant fear of the League. No more hiding, no more lying. Maybe I’d finally have enough sway to prove my mom’s innocence; I’d get her out of jail and back home. If I ignored all the caveats, it was exactly what I’d always wanted.

But I’d have to ignore a lot of caveats: working for Vale, following his orders, becoming whatever he wanted me to be … I couldn’t even picture myself doing it. I had very little idea of what Vale got up to with his businesses, and I’d never had any desire to find out, especially not first-hand. I couldn’t say that I thought it was a fair trade, that I would’ve done it if I had any other choice. I tilted my chin up, finally meeting Vale’s cool, indifferent gaze. “I’m not agreeing to this.”

Vale spread his hands, his expression saying that this was set in stone, that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Like it was physically impossible for him to just step aside and let me walk out of here. “You don’t have to agree. As I said, you don’t have a choice.” He turned, then, and all I could do was stand there and stare at the closing door. “Think it through, Phantom. Your apprenticeship starts tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until after he left, and after I’d finally swallowed down the rage and dread building in me, that I realized we hadn’t discussed the whole father problem, not really. He’d just acted like it didn’t matter, and maybe that should’ve been a relief. After all, I didn’t want him to be my father, and I kind of had bigger problems than the existential dread of finding out that the two worst people I knew were my birth parents.

But as much as I didn’t want it to be true, I couldn’t un-know it, either. I always thought that knowing who my biological parents were wouldn’t change what I knew about myself. They were separate from me; they hadn’t even been a part of my life. But I’d also assumed that they’d be total strangers, not … them.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Maybe it only had to matter as much as I made it matter. Vale and Amoret didn’t raise me, after all; Stella Argent did. I was still my mother’s child. I couldn’t get her out of prison—not for a long time, anyway, if I ever managed to do it—but at least I could hold onto that. I wasn’t Vale’s, or Amoret’s. I was hers.

-

Title credits: Boy Division - My Chemical Romance

Tag list: @toyybox (if you want to be added, just ask!)

[lumenflowered]

ehehehe check this out

[A picture of a newspaper article is attached. It reads:

GOLDENROD—Few citizens of our happening big city were looking out their windows early Tuesday morning. It's January, after all, one of the chilliest months of the year. And, perhaps more importantly, our Radio Tower was taken over by people in black claiming to be Team Rocket reborn. Given Rocket's reputation in Kanto, even now three years after their disbanding, there were few willing to do much more than hunker down and hope that someone stronger would come to stop them, and soon.

And stop them, someone did.

The few citizens of Goldenrod who were looking out their windows shortly after sunrise Tuesday morning, or were looking up outside, would have seen a strange sight indeed: a massive birdlike Pokémon matching all descriptions of the Legendary Ho-oh. Security footage recovered from the Radio Tower's observation deck reveals that this Ho-oh did not hesitate to crash through the glass, shattering it on impact and giving the purported members of Team Rocket a very rude awakening indeed.

But why Ho-oh? Why here? Why now?

...Unfortunately, we don't have the answers to any of these questions. But we wouldn't be journalists if we didn't at least try to find them, and to speculate about what we couldn't.

Tragically, that security footage isn't currently public—it took a lot to talk the tower staff into letting us view it! But in a few frames, someone in dark clothing can be seen riding upon Ho-oh's back, someone who is conspicuously absent when Ho-oh flies off again. Whoever this someone is, it seems pretty likely that they're responsible for taking Rocket down. (Again.)

Coincidentally, the Kimono Girls of Ecruteak put on their first show of the year Monday evening—our correspondent there informed us that a tall woman in dark clothing played the role of Ho-oh in that show, and neither she nor her Arcanine were anywhere to be found after bows.

Most of those trapped inside the tower during Rocket's takeover that we were able to speak to—a few remain in the hospital with minor injuries, though none are in critical condition—cited seeing one of two people in similar clothing: a tall woman who may very well have been the same one from Ecruteak, and a young boy with red hair. Did both of these people independently arrive to take Rocket down? Were they working together from the start? How was Ho-oh involved? Was that even really Ho-oh?

We just don't know. Maybe we never will. Maybe it's better that way.

As for me, there's nothing I personally regret more than not looking out my window yesterday morning, because I chose a terrible time to sleep in.]