#darker yet darker fashion choices just so its not that obvious

[n4rval]

BUT YES.

family history.

[rotten-c0rps3]

【ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖】

Fem list

Undated: June 20th

A list of my female/fem monster characters. I will be adding more in the future. I will do Character x reader with them, so don’t be afraid to request if one catches your eye!

Characters added: (1) Shapeshifting parasite, (1) robot, (1) angel,

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙖

Species: Shapeshifting parasite (Made up names are “Slug Bug”, “Death Worm”, or “Death Slug”)

Gender: Female (Is genderless but uses a label to blend in with humans)

She/her (Strict of using the correct pronouns. Not because being misgendered offends her, but because she think it’ll cause people to know she isn’t human)

Backstory: Once upon a time, a man and a parasite, mimicking a woman, fell in love. Then, they had three beautiful, healthy children. Er… wait, sorry, no. That’s incorrect. Sometime a few decades ago, a parasite found its way into a male host. Then, three little parasites were born from their mother’s corpse, living inside their host father’s stomach. They had their very first meal, eating their way out of the male human before devouring him entirely. Growing up, the three parasite siblings were the human equivalent to orphans. Their species was made to be like this, of course. But that fact didn’t make their life easier. The siblings had to do all sorts of terrible things. Such as, steal, scam, assault, kill, kill, kill… Okay.. in their defense, a parasites gotta eat something! It was merciful to spare all those people having to live as unwilling hosts.

Personality: Out of the three parasite siblings, Sylvia is definitely the leader. She’s basically the older sister, despite the fact they’re all the same age. It’s hard to tell if Sylvia’s just… naturally commanding, or if all female parasites are like that. Either way, Sylvia did step up and care for her brothers the best she could when they were little, even if she has obvious favorites. Sorry Percy!

Looks: No one knows what her parasite form looks like, mostly because the only people who have seen it have all been chewed, swallowed, and devoured. Sylvia’s human form looks nothing like her brothers, that’s what happens with different parasites. She’s darker than both her brothers, but then again it’s not hard to be darker than pale Percy. She’s taller than average, but about shoulder height to Percy.

Likes: Feedings, blood, guts, human organs, making people paranoid, the smell after it rains, getting humans sick, being well fed, not having to yell at Percy,

Dislikes: Percy, the fact she dislikes Percy, Percy again, Percy being annoying, Percy not listening, when hosts get away, being disrespected, the dark, sour/spicy food,

Relationships: Percy (Sibling, strained), Luis (Brother, fine relationship)

Ｄ．Ｏ．Ｅ．

Species: Robot (but from outer space, suppose that’d make her an alien, too?)

Gender: Female (Says the fact she’s female was more of a fashion choice by her creators, seems to enjoy the human title of gender nonetheless)

She/It (Prefers She/her but accepts some might see her as an it)

Backstory: Once, Doe had stood for Destructor of Earth. Now, she much prefers Defender of Earth. As much as Doe loves her alien creators, she has come to accept that their plan was morally wrong. Before she had gained empathy, Doe cared for nothing and no one. She was truly, just a machine. Doe is still a robot today, yet she is more living than she was back then.

Personality: These days, Doe is calm and peaceful, which is a lot different than harmless. She’s emotional, she has outbursts, and she loves it. Who wouldn’t, being blind to emotions for so long? Anger is better than ignorance, sadness is better than apathy. Doe would love for you to teach her some new emotions.

Looks: Funny enough, Doe is, in fact, doe-eyed. She has light brown synthetic hair that stops right at her lower back. She’s beautiful, so beautiful you can’t even be able to tell she is a robot. Or, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, if her right arm wasn’t halfway ripped off. A small price to pay for emotions, Doe would probably think.

Likes: Animals, nature, women, people, puzzles, insects, subtle intimacy, the idea of soulmates, kids, human families, books, poetry,

Dislikes: Tv, perverts, ignorant people, movies where people kill aliens, sex scenes in movies/books, second-hand embarrassment,

Relationships: None (for now, I’ll add her creators in the future)

𝐿𝒾𝓁𝒾

Species: Angel

Gender: Trans Fem (Truthfully, angels don’t have genders so they can’t be trans like humans, but in Lili’s case, her human form was going to be male before she decided against it) (Angel genders are all technically closer to trans than cis though, since they get to decide them if they come down to Earth)

She/he (Finds pronouns a bit confusing since everyone just basically called her by her angel name before)

Backstory: The Human-Watcher Angel program was definitely a new and… interesting thing. Most angels, content with their schedule oriented lives, didn’t particularly have any thoughts on it. The program was only speculation, that’s all! No Angel had actually ever… went down to Earth….

But then, Halo did. And some fallowed his lead, some like Doc and Lili. All reasons seemed to be different. Halo did it (half-forced) because… it was new, it was exciting. Doc did it because humans, in their fragile state and bodies, sounded positively captivating. Lili did it because of the nature (which he did in fact name himself after). The nature that angels never got to experience up in the clouds.

Personally: Lili is still trying to figure out the whole “pretending to be human” thing, along with all the other angels. She means well, he truthfully does, but it seems her well-meant actions come off a little… synthetic. Fake. She wants to be soft, he wants to be human!…like, but it seems no one is willing to stick along long enough for him to learn.

Looks: With her new love for Earth’s nature in mind, Lili had given his angel form a while new look (which angels do, along with name changes, every so often just to mix things up). Her form is made up of soft branch-like shapes twisted together into something resembling a person. A giant flower sprouts where her human head would be, dawned with a single eye in the middle.

Human form: When Lili was making her human form before going to Earth, he picked apart pretty things about the humans in Heaven’s books, and jammed them together. Lili is black with reddish brown dreads/locs that slightly longer than her shoulders (I am not black so if any of the terms I use for Lili are incorrect, please let me know!). He prefers to keep her hair down but will sometimes let his friends braid it. She has a round face and is a bit chubby. Since angels don’t magically get money upon coming down to Earth, most of Lili’s clothes come from thrift shops and consist of shirts of bands he doesn’t know.

Likes: Nature, animals, plants, being outside, the cold, human holidays, to admire insects from afar, putting flowers/beads in her hair, his angel  colleagues, making bracelets, the smell of artificial things, 

Dislikes: Bright lights, crowds, being hot, insects being near/touching him, cooking,

Relationships: Halo (Colleague, very close), Doc (Colleague, friendly acquaintances), 

[dungbeatposse]

THE RAMPAGE AND COLOURS PT. 2✨🎨

turns out i am diligent enough to complete the series! thanks again for reading my rambles!! it's been really fun writing like this, using my thinker to delve deep into stuff. again, i'll try to keep it simple and short.

i'd love to here other's thoughts on what colour they think the rmpg member's are, and maybe i'll do another for other groups too :DDD

if you hadn't read part 1 yet, go here. there i covered likiya, zin, riku, kenta, rui, yamasho, kazuma and hokuto. now, i'm gonna finish it off with the last 8 members. note, these were harder to think about than the first post (and when i say hard, i mean fucking HARD). so buckle up yall.

shogo - celeste (#95bfbc)

initially, i wanted to give shogo a warm colour. maybe a yellow or orange, but it didn't feel like it suited shogo for me. i knew i wanted to choose a colour with very vintage vibes. then, celeste caught my eye. it's a bright blue that looks well on its own, but when paired with warmer colours, it shines brighter. shogo might not be one of my favourite members, but he is his own work of art. calmer, but still with a bright presence.

shohei - pale chartreuse (#cde37f)

it was either yellow or green for him. bouncing between two, i had a difficult choice to make. then, i went "why not the middle?" chartreuse is very striking and is mostly a colour that looks amazing on its own. however, it's also strong with other colours, being able to stand out amongst them. shohei is not just his goofiness, or his more hard-working side. for me, chartreuse is a colour that combines both of his strong aspects into a vibrant person that is shohei.

itsuki - ginger (#f0a748)

ok, i'm gonna be honest. i chose ginger because of mars. i couldn't help it! i also thought about giving him a white colour, but it didn’t really fit as well as orange did. i think that he also has very orange cat energy. he very much does his own thing and has a tiny bit of a chaotic side too, though his initial vibe is cool, calm and collected. like itsuki is a cat trapped in a human body.

kaisei - sea green (#43a36d)

when i think about kaisei, i think of strong. not just physically (gaddamn that man is CUT), but also how mentally strong he is. pairing that with how his soft and friendly his character is, i just knew i wanted to give him a nice natural colour. something that matches his growth and resilience while also maintaining a nice calmer shade to match his softer side. i think something like sea green that was rich and vibrant was perfect for kaisei.

makoto - royal blue (#3238b3)

i know, ruby red is probably a better choice, but here me out. makoto always gave me a very regal vibe, with his strong features and the way he carries himself. considering his h&l character having a blue theme, the cooler aura he tends to have and the regality he was giving me, i think royal blue suits him well. the deeper, richer blue tone that sticks out elegantly matches what i think of makoto.

ryu - wine red (#521e1c)

ryu was always going to be wine red for me. it’s a colour that’s not too obvious, but also not something that’s going to disappear into the background. along with the fact that ryu looks fucking great with darker reds, i specifically chose wine red because it’s a colour that isn’t bold but still manages to have a strong impact. it matches his less outspokenness, but his beautiful aura of both maturity and softness.

takuma - peach orange (#f0654d)

i think i default creativity as a shade closer to pink/peach. i initially wanted to go for salmon red, but i settled on something closer to orange because 1) his hair and 2) it’s closer to a spring colour that suits him. i admire his creativity and his interests in art and fashion. for me, takuma has a refreshing aura that’s both sweet and soft without being too subtle. which kind of made me think of peach flavoured konjac jelly.

takahide - light green (#83bd68)

oof. takahide… he was like the final boss. i cycled through several options before settling on this one. there was yellow, orange, light pink, red, even pastel purple. i started to look through his older looks, tsuji looks etc. i thought about giving the whole ass rainbow but that would be a cop out.

then, i thought about his relationship with ryu. where ryu is shyer and reserved, takahide is the opposite. making them mirror each other would be perfect! giving him a light green was a choice i never saw myself making. but somehow, it worked. maybe it’s because of how naturally charismatic takahide is (i always tend to associate charisma with green), maybe it’s because he does quite a few green hair looks, or maybe it’s because his emoji is a goddamn frog.

but it works!

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.

This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.

The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.

Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.

There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.

The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!

Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.

The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.

However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.

The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.

Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment. 

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7

Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23

Consider supporting Yuri news, reviews, and content on the YuriMother Patreon

[onedivinemisfit]

During my recovery, this has been my biggest project, no kidding. I looked but couldn’t find Obi’s witcher!AU body template so I sketched some Bruxa!yuki designs instead. <w< I’ll finalize and colour them when I’m well, or so I hope, unless I forget XD

Pls forgive any mistakes I’m not 100% yet. ^^; 

Explanations below the cut~

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Witcher (c) Andrzej Sapkowski TW3 models (c) CDPR Art: Me

Disclaimer: I am not a tailor and as such all my opinions are based on preference and evt pushing rules in my favour XD

The main idea with her wardrobe was to underline that whatever she’s doing, Shirayuki is feminine, and wants to present feminine, hence the skirts and ribbons and embroidery. She’s also a person fond of utility, so belts, pockets, and layers that can be added or removed as she fancied, was also an important facet to add. But she’s also bruxae, monster species, so she’s got a few blind spots, so to speak, regarding what is and isn’t proper to wear in human society. But most of all, her clothes make it easy for her to use her bruxa powers to move around swiftly, silently, and with purpose

Around half of these were referenced from the witcher 3 game, with me picking my favourite garb, and what made more sense for her in different situations. 

1. Huntress Outfit - this one I made myself, using only some of the basic wardrobe notes from tw3. I’ve a softness for overdresses/kaftans with splits, especially if they’re combined with tights/buckskins. Shirayuki is a poor bruxa living in the woods outside a small human settlement, so she doesn’t have access to a tailor other than on market day, or when peddlers arrive, hence she often has to redesign old/too-small clothing for new purposes. Another point was to reinforce her sleeves, to make it easier to brush away branches and undergrowth, and adding the Skelligan waist shawl, a gift from her half-sister, as recurring themes.

2. Winter Outfit - another I made myself, because I was dying to design something that included a sheepskin jerkin. The waist shawl helps redefine the jerkin and give it a feminine twist, and the wrapped sleeves both reduce noise and keeps her cuffs from leaking precious warmth. The wool tunic could have been a dress, but I wanted to focus on showing off her fur-tucked winter boots and knitted long socks. Shirayuki probably knitted them herself.

3. High Summer Outfit - another self-made design. Made so as to underline her non-humanness, borrowing heavily from witcher elven aesthetics, with lots of exposed skin, crossed fabric, and asymmetrical cuts. This is what she wears when the weather *won’t* allow you to dress decently or you get purged by the sun, basically. Again, since Shirayuki’s often short of fabric, a lot of refashioning going on. 

4. Commoner Outfit - A very basic woman’s dress, very presentable, very respectable, especially since Shirayuki is trying to sell the lie that she’s a normal human woman. It’s her go-to outfit for visiting human settlements, or for performing simple chores around the house, such as cooking, sewing, or spinning. Things that keep her in or around her homestead, and not gallivanting in the woods at midnight looking for prey.

5. Relaxing Outfit - merely a dusty day dress pulled over her nightgown, for those chilly nights where Shirayuki doesn’t want to undress for bed until she’s halfway under the covers. When the chores are done and all that’s left to do is sip a cup of blood, read a book beside the hearth and wait for Ryuu to return from his late night wandering, she likes to shed all those layers and relax.

6. Throw-together Outfit - referenced from the game, almost entirely (Keira Metz’ witch model) - save the shoes and headband. After the loss of her home and her more presentable clothing thanks to witcher Obi (who will later admit that yes he does in fact owe her a new dress... and blouse... and apron...) this outfit was assembled through raiding an abandoned witch’s hut. Anything that could suffice as clothing, basically, even the old curtains. Shirayuki doesn’t personally care that some of her *assets* are pretty much on display, but she would like some linen anyway, the cotton does chafe a bit. Aside from the pearl necklace, nothing she’s wearing actually belonged to her in the first place.

7. Formal Commoner Outfit - reffed from the game, (Keira Metz’ second model) the shoes being the sole exception. A dress for special occassions, perhaps May Day, Equinox celebrations, etc. Not that Shirayuki often dared participate in such events, due to the amount of people who show up even in small villages to throw tankards together and dance around bonfires. But she does pilfer the dress from the abandoned witch’s hut anyway, thinking maybe, afterall, since it’s so pretty and it had matching sleeves to go with it... keeping it wasn’t such a dumb idea. 

8. Pants Outfit - reffed from the game (juggler npc) A cross between a traveler and a city dweller, a light-weight yet very elegant outfit for strolling in the human cities. The top is presentable enough that she doesn’t look poor as a pauper, while the pants give the impression of someone on the move, a stranger. It also provides the most comfortable riding experience, the few times she does ride, as she has no need for a lady’s saddle.

9. High-Class Outfit - reffed from the game/one of my favourite tw3 modders, (New Sorceress models by Roksa) I only added the shoes and circlet. When Zen has the dress made for her, it is by FAR the most expensive thing she’s ever worn. Not a single thread of the dress isn’t well-made, the dyes are the brightest and most even-coloured, and the silk is light as a touch on her skin. While the dress itself is a demure, feminine dream, what sets the ensemble apart are the dark cat’s eye gems, just hinting at Shirayuki’s darker secrets. They’re set in gold, for obvious, unspoken reasons, as she reacts to silver much like being set on fire...

10. Evening Outfit - reffed from the game, I just changed the necklace (Ida Eméan’s Gwent card art) another very expensive dress, but surprisingly one that Shirayuki tolerates better. No stiff, itchy velvet, no heavy damask, just sheer silk with gold thread (again for reasons obvious to a bruxa) some simple sleeves, and a chain of stones, no gilded jewellry that could empty a bank vault if sold to the right people. She probably takes a fancy to this dress while attempting to woo a certain witcher, which explains the understated beauty, the most daring of cuts, one that screams “look at me, only me” and the simple-at-a-glance design. Much like Shirayuki herself.

11. Skellige Outfit - inspired by the viking-esque game design for Skellige fashion, this dress is for when Shirayuki and her family stay in the Isles, following her sister’s suggestion. A dress that signifies the matron head of a household with its pewter clasps and apron, follows Skellige fashion demanding you wear a shawl with your clan colors (Shirayuki, although clan-less, was given one by Torou) and layers. And armguards. And a split overdress. To show that this is Shirayuki’s choice wear afterall. 

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Eyes Wide Shut (Henry x Reader)

Summary: AU. Working with an investigative journalist like Henry when you had a huge crush on him didn’t leave you with much free time for a social life. That is until you decide to visit a sex club and meet a masked handsome stranger who are more than willing to show you a good time.

Part 2: Undisclosed Desires | Part 3: Beautiful Problems

Author’s notes: I have no idea where this plot bunny came from, but I loved it and it turned into this huge one shot. I was vibing Eyes Wide Shut for the club (no idea why since I hate that movie) and it kinda worked for what I wanted.

Wordcount: 5666

Warnings: smut (powerplay; bondage; praise kink; orgasm denial).

What are you doing here?

A little voice inside your head asked as watched yourself in the impeccably clean surface of the club’s restroom mirror, your eyes looking wide and afraid, like a dear caught in headlights.

This isn’t you.

The voice continued and you had to take a pause and consider. This whole thing really wasn’t you. The elegant makeup with smoky eyes and dark red lipstick that you only ever wore for formal events; the slip dress that looked more like a camisole than an actual dress, but made you look so alluring in a way that you just weren’t used to.

You felt almost transported to another dimension or maybe having an out of body experience. It was the only thing that could make sense of what you were doing in a sex club when you were the very definition of vanilla. As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure if someone looked up the word in a dictionary, they would find a picture of you.

It just wasn’t your thing. Or at least that was what you always thought. You could never even understand why a person would want to get tied up and spanked during sex. It sounded so uncomfortable and crazy. You were perfectly fine with the traditional things, thank you very much.

You were absolutely sure this wasn’t for you. The only time you let your ex-boyfriend tried anything like it, you two used a blindfold and you ended up panicking and kicking in the balls, which killed mood obviously.

Yet, here you were. Curiosity got the better out of you when your best friend gifted you an invite for your twenty-third birthday. She said it had been a revealing experience for her and that you should try it, especially since she was probably the only person you’ve ever confided about your terrible and inappropriate crush on your boss Henry.

It started when you met the man six months ago when you started working as his personal assistant. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be even if sometimes you felt more like a glorified secretary than an actual journalist, but you were learning the ropes with one youngest Pulitzer winners investigative journalists out there so it was worth it.

Besides, Henry was such a great guy that you almost didn’t mind picking up his coffee every morning, because he actually took the time to teach and give you tips. He even let you co-write a couple of less important pieces for the magazine. The only thing he didn’t allow you to do was to come with him when meeting sources. He always said you had to cultivate your own.

That was actually one of the reasons you were here. Not that you thought you would be cultivating many sources in a sex clubs, but because Henry just took off tonight after receiving a text when you two were supposed to be working on his last big story.

He didn’t give you any explanation or justification. Just picked up his things, sending you a quick goodbye over his shoulder before he took off, leaving you alone in the office on a Friday night.  

It was at that moment that you realized how pathetic you were being, pining over your boss who didn’t even notice you and having absolutely no personal life. So, you went home, got dressed and now here you were, inside the club, but hiding in the restroom, not exactly regretting your choice but without knowing how to go forward with it either.

The place was nothing like you expected. You were thinking chains and whips and a whole lot of leather. Instead, it was posh and elegant, everyone dressed in fashionable outfits and wearing masks.

Yours was lying on the sink, looking quite inconspicuous just like the blue bracelet sitting next to it. Ant that was the real reason for your little meltdown. You had already been on edge all the way to the club, but walking in and being asked by the hostess if you were a dom, sub or a switch, made you cheeks scarlet, locked the breath in your throat, and nothing but confusing words spluttered from your mouth.

She had been very kind and understanding, saying it was perfectly fine not knowing and offered you a blue bracelet so you could give it a try being a sub first to see how you would feel. You took it because you had no idea what else to do before scurrying to the restroom where you had been hiding for the last fifteen minutes, trying to work up the courage to actually step into the club and talk to people and see what would happen.

Wasn’t that what Henry always said? Make friends wherever you go; pay attention to everything. You never know when you’re gonna need that tiny bit of information that person let it slip after a drink too much.

Taking yet another deep, calming breath, you brushed off inexistent lint from your dress, adjusting them hem once more, before putting the mask back on and stepping outside. You were going to do this. You came all the way here, might as well have a drink and take a look.

You stepped through the thick, velvet curtains that separated the small reception from the actual club, immediately having your senses overwhelmed by different stimuli. The first thing that you noticed was the soft scent of incense that enveloped the place. It was something slightly familiar, but you couldn’t quite make out its name. Next was the music. You don’t know why you were expecting some kind of heavy metal to be playing but instead, soft jazz worked a background noise.

Then your eyes adjusted to the change of lighting since the main area of the club itself was slightly darker than the reception and you could see people lounging around and tables and couches, talking and laughing, enjoying elegant cocktails, all in masks, all completely ignoring your presence.

For a moment, you stood still, trying to gain your bearings before you finally moved to the bar with slow, hesitant steps, eyes still darting around like part of you expected some old acquaintance to pop up from a corner ready to report your visit to your overly religious grandma. It was ridiculous and you knew, but you couldn’t always help yourself.

Taking a seat on one of the high stools, you ordered a drink and once again turned your focus to the club. If it wasn’t the masks, the place would feel exactly like most high-end nightclubs you had seen, and the thought soothed your nerves a little. What you were expecting? People having sex in front of everyone else? You chuckled at your own silliness, turning back to the bar when the bartender brought over your order.

As you sipped your drink, the stool next to you became occupied by a tall, handsome stranger who ordered a whiskey, before turning his gaze towards you, his bright blue eyes framed by the black mask made your breath catch in your throat and your cheeks to go red as you quickly looked away.

“First time?” his voice was deep and smooth with a hint of an accent that couldn’t quite place because he was obviously working on disguising it.

“That obvious?” you asked with a nervous chuckle, glancing his way. His dark hair was neatly combed, but a couple of stubborn curls made themselves known and for some reason, you felt itchy to smooth them back in place.

“A little,” he replied with a soft smile, taking a sip of his whiskey and as the cuff of his grey blazer pulled back with the motion, you saw the red bracelet on his wrist. “We’re all nervous on your first visit, but this is a great place to… explore.”

All you managed was a small hum of understanding, shifting your attention back to your drink, swirling your straw because you didn’t know what to do or think. Was he just making small talk? Was he hinting something? If this was a regular club you’d know, but here the rules were different.

“You come here often?” you asked and rolled your eyes at yourself, at your awful small talk. “Sorry, that was terrible.”

“It’s fine,” he assured with a gorgeous smile as he leaned against the bar, looking at you. “Only when I have a date,” he said, glancing at his watch, before letting out a sigh. “But after 40 minutes one must recognize when they’ve been stood up.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small, sympathetic smile. Even if he was wearing a mask, you could tell he was a handsome man and you couldn’t understand who would stand him up.  

“And how about you? What brings you here?”

“Curiosity. A friend of mine gave me an invite,” you admitted in a low voice as you surveyed the room once more. “It’s not what I was expecting.”

“Not enough chains and whips?” he asked in a teasing tone and strangely enough it didn’t embarrass you. You chuckled in response.  

“Something like that.”

“They keep those in the private suites,” he explained, finishing his drink. “Would you like to see one?” You stared at him with wide eyes at the offer. “Don’t worry. You can just take a look. No need to stay.”

You took a moment to consider his offer. Were you really going into a dark room with a complete stranger? Were you crazy? Still, you were curious to see what it looked like and he didn’t seem dangerous. Even if he was tall and built like a brick wall.

You should be more afraid of this; instead, you were just excited about the prospect. Adrenaline rushed through your veins; your heart beat wildly in your chest. You licked your lips and met his eyes, trying to gauge if he might be a crazy psycho underneath the suave demeanor.

“Alright,” you finally declared, swallowing the rest of your drink in one go, the alcohol burning down your throat.

This is crazy.

That same voice in your head cautioned, but you ignored it. You came all the way here, the least you could do was take a look. And if he turned out to be a creep, you could always scream. There were plenty of security guards standing inconspicuously around the room.

Taking the arm he offered you, you let him guide you through the maze of tables and couches to the back of the club, where another red velvet curtain covered a passageway. He pushed it aside, letting you step in first, before following behind, one large hand on the small of your back as the two of you crossed the corridor full of doors. He led you to one of the last doors on the left, pulling it open for you and letting you step in first.

It looked like a regular hotel room, with a big bed in the center, a small sitting area to the side with black credence where a small bar sat. At the foot of the bed there was a large wooden chest the looked almost ominous and stood out against the rest of the décor. Same with the two large and shiny hooks hanging from the ceiling.

“Kind of anticlimactic, huh?” he commented, attracting your attention and you noticed he stood to the side, letting the door wide open.

“A bit, yes,” you agreed, looking around again. Were you really about to do what you were thinking about doing it? “Aren’t you going to close the door?”

Apparently yes.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, your voice a little shaky as you looked at him.

He watched you as if to make sure you really meant it, before slowly closing the door behind himself and stepping further into the room. He shrugged off his blazer and set it on the couch’s arm, letting you see a little more of him.

He had such broad shoulders that stretched his black dress shirt in just the right way. The first two buttons of the shirt were open, revealing just a bit of his strong chest and dark hair. Even though you were never much interested in hairy guys, the sight of it was very appealing.

Swallowing the lump of nervousness, you moved to the bar and poured a generous amount of whiskey in two crystal tumblers, offering him one before consuming yours in one go, wincing at the way it burned your throat. You weren’t a big fan of hard liquor like this but you needed some liquid courage if you were really going forward with this.

You reached for the bottle again, ready to pour yourself another shot when he laid a heavy, but surprising soothing hand on your wrist, making you pause.

“I’m not doing this if you’re drunk,” he warned, his blue eyes meeting yours.

Gently prying your fingers away from the bottle, he held your hand and led you to the couch, taking a seat on the armchair, leaving a considerable space between the two of you, but his whole body was tilted towards yours and you could feel his gaze, heavy and intense over you.

“So how this works?” you asked, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “How do I call you? I don’t know your name.”

“We don’t usually use names here,” he explained, his lips tilting in a small smile. “How do you want to call me?”

You paused for a second, looking him from head to toe. There was a word on the tip of your tongue. Something you only ever used with Henry, but it seemed fitting for this. For him.

“Boss,” you finally breathed out and his eyes widened slightly as he licked his lips and shifted in his seat. That was how you knew it affected him. That he liked and you had to smile. It was rewarding to see him not so composed for once. “Is that ok?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice a little huskier than before. “Perfectly fine.” He took a sip of his whiskey before setting the tumbler on the table. “Do you know what you’re interested in trying?”

You had no idea where to begin. You were curious of course, but the thought of actually doing anything was still stunning you.

“How about what you don’t want to try at all?” he asked, probably picking up on your hesitation.

“No pain,” you hurried to say. It was one of the things you were absolutely sure of it. “Or sharp objects.”

“They don’t allow those here,” he assured leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “And I’m not interested in that either. Anything else?”

You thought back on what you knew about this sort of thing, which granted wasn’t much, but it should give you at least a direction on what you wanted and how.

“No spanking,” you declared after another moment and you saw him still, glass to his lips. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he replied, draining his drink. “But when done right, it can be quite pleasurable.” His statement made you pause in consideration. “A conversation for another time, perhaps?”

“What makes you think there’s gonna be another time?” you challenged, eyebrow arched, and he grinned.

“I just have a feeling.”

The two of you talked for a while longer, discussing your limits, negotiating a few points, setting up safe words and gestures and slowly you began to relax a little more, feel more comfortable with him and with what you were planning to do. Despite being a complete stranger, you felt a certain familiarity with him, which definitely helped with your nerves.

“So, when do we start?” you finally asked.

“Are you sure?” he asked giving a long, piercing look and you just nodded, swallowing hard at the intensity of those blue eyes. “Then come here.”

You stood up feeling your knees wobbly; your heart hammering against your chest. You were really doing this. You must have lost your mind.

He looked you up from head to toe, his gaze hungry as he leaned back on his chair, legs spread and you couldn’t help but glance down at his lap, at the prominent bulge on his pants, wondering what it looked like. What it would feel like.

He offered you a hand, guiding you onto his lap, straddling one his strong thighs and the pressure against your center made you whimper, which you quickly silenced by pressing your lips together, giving him a shy glance.

“Don’t do that,” he asked. Well no. It was a command. His voice turning lower and harder and it set your nerves on fire. “I want to hear you. Every little moan, whine and cry,” he said against your ear and you shuddered, excitement coursing through your veins and heightening your senses.

“Sorry.”

“Try that again,” he said, one finger on your chin, giving you a hard stare and once again you swallowed hard as you lowered your gaze.

“I’m sorry, boss.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, and the words seemed to go straight to your core, making you gasp and shift on his leg, rubbing yourself against him. He smirked. “You liked it when praise you, baby?”

Your voice was once again locked in your throat and you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, just nod and wonder if you have ever been this aroused this quickly before.

“Well, all you have to do is be a good girl and behave for me and you’ll hear a lot of it,” he said, one hand holding your hips still since you’ve been rocking against his thigh without noticing. “But if you disobey me, I’ll have to punish you and neither of us wants that.”

“No, boss.” You shook your head quickly and he smiled once again. You were getting addicted to it. It was gorgeous and made your knees weak. “I’ll behave. I promise.”

“Good. Then stay still,” he ordered, pushing your hair to one side, exposing your neck and shoulder. “And let me hear you.”

His lips brushed against your neck, right below your ear and you shuddered, your hands fisting his shirt as he explored your skin with his mouth, soft, wet kisses all over neck and shoulder. His tongue and teeth teasing you; finding every sensitive spot that made you shudder and moan as heat pooled between your legs.

He held the thin straps of your dress between his fingers, giving you a quick look, seeking permission. You just nodded already missing his mouth as he pushed them down your arms, exposing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze and even hungrier lips. He kissed and nipped and licked every inch of the skin of your breasts before flickering his tongue over your nipple and making you buckle.

“Stay still, baby,” he asked once again, tilting his head to look up at you. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to tie you.”

The prospect shouldn’t be that arousing. As a matter of fact, before you walked in here, you never considered bondage as an option, but here you were aching for it.

“Sorry, boss,” you said, your voice low and desperate and you leaned back, giving him more room to explore.

He noticed, of course, his smirk growing as his mouth returned to you; his lips closing around a nipple, sucking and licking it while he teased the other with his rough thumb. You struggled to keep yourself still as pleasure built inside you, your walls clenching around nothing, your clit throbbing, begging to be touched in anyway.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, one hand coming to his hair, taking a handful of his curls and he let out a grunt that sounded almost like a warning. “Please, boss. I need…”

“What, darling?” he looked up again, pressing one final kiss to your left breast before his lips moved to the right one. “What do you need?”

Embarrassment made the words die in your lips. You had never begged for it before. Actually, most of the time you had to ask guys to slow down and there he was, taking his sweet time and driving you crazy in the process.

“Can’t say it?” he asked with a smirk. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it.”

He returned to his task, driving you crazy with his mouth; his fingers drawing lazy patterns on the inside of your thighs, touch featherlight and just increasing the temptation because all you wanted was for his fingers to move higher, touch you where you needed him the most.

As he bunched your skirt around your waist, exposing your white lace lingerie, you thought you’d finally have him. Finally, get some sweet release. Especially with the way, his digits ran over the edge of your panties, so, so close, but they moved away again, and he chuckled at the little whine you let out.

All your senses seemed to be in haywire from pleasure; your head was foggy and dazed; expectation made you follow every single one of his movements, desperate to feel him; to know which pleasure spot he would shower with attention this time around.

Goosebumps raised on your skin and you could feel perspiration starting to form as your body’s temperature rose along with your arousal. It made your mask stick to your forehead almost uncomfortably and you wanted to rip it off your face.

He pulled back once more making you whimpered at the loss of his lips and he chuckled once again, giving you a look.

“You know what you have to do,” he said nudging you to stand up and pulling the dress from your body, throwing to the side before his eyes shifted back to you, devouring your body. “Come.”

Taking your hand, he led you to bed and gestured to you make yourself comfortable while he slowly undressed before you, unbuttoning his shirts so slowly, revealing tantalizing skin inch by inch. You couldn’t take your eyes away, your breath coming in short pants. He was unbelievably gorgeous; built like a Greek God.

He let the shirt fall to the ground, before kicking his shoes and socks and finally undoing his belt and pants, pushing them down and off. You bit your lips in expectation, desperately to see him fully naked as his thumbs hooked over the edge of his black boxers. You could see the shape of his cock pressing against the fabric and all you wanted was to see it fully, have it on your hands; in your mouth; inside you.

“Are you ready to tell me what you want?” he asked and once again the words wouldn’t come. “Then maybe I should leave these on,” he declared, taking his hands away and you whimpered and pouted as he chuckled and crawled on top of you.

For the first time that night his lips found yours, kissing you softly; tongue exploring your mouth, tangling with yours as he settled between your legs, holding most of his weight on his elbows.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, voice husky and throaty, mouthing the line of your jaw, making you arch your neck, giving him more room. “Just ask for it. We both want it. You don’t get to come until you ask me for it.”

All you managed in reply was a desperate little whine as once again his lips traveled down your body, setting it ablaze with arousal and want and you were so soaked your panties were starting to get uncomfortable. It was a relief when he finally pulled them off you before he spread your knees and just looked at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said before kissing your inner thigh, coming dangerously close to your cunt, but never quite there.

You were shaking with desire, one hand fisting the sheets, the other gripped his hair, tugging him to where you wanted him, but he pulled away, making a disappointed sound on the back of his throat.

“What did I tell you?” he asked with a smirk as he got up and moved to the wooden chest. Your heart thundered in your chest as he pulled it open and taking out a long strip of black silky rope. “Keep still or I’ll have to tie you.” You eyed the rope nervously, chewing on your bottom lip. “Do you wanna use your safeword?”

“No, boss,” you replied after a long moment. You wanted this. Every inch of your body begged for it. “No safeword.” You raised your arms above your head, hands coming to the headboard.

“Good girl,” he praised again with a smile; delft fingers tying your wrists together before his attention came back to you. “Ok?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good.” He kissed you again; an obvious reward for accepting your fate so easily.

You should be terrified. He was a complete stranger and he could do whatever he wanted to you. You were at his mercy with only his promise to stop if it got too much. This was dangerous and you should be panicking, but all you felt was excitement and arousal. You wanted this more than you wanted anything else in the bedroom before.

“Boss?” you called, voice soft, hesitant and he looked at you, his eyes curious, full of expectation.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please.” You could feel your cheeks burning and you couldn’t hold his gaze. Here you were, stripped naked and tied to a bed, but it was those words that made you blush.

“Of course, baby,” he said, kissing you again. Yet another reward and you took it desperately, wanting everything he was willing to give you. “You’ve been such a good girl. You deserve it.”

This time, when he moved down your body, kissing and nipping and licking, making anticipation build deep inside you, making that wet heat coil tight in your lower belly, you knew you would finally have some release.

At the first touch of his tongue against your folds, you buckled your hips, a dragged-out moan came out of your mouth as you gripped the headboard. He held you still with one hand, licking and tasting and teasing you, before he sucked your clit between his lips and you cried out, your body quaking with need and he barely did anything.

“Please, boss,” you begged in a whine.

“Not yet. We’ve only just begun,” he replied, mouth returning to work.

He alternated flickering his tongue against your clit, with sucking kisses that left you moaning and shaking, your wetness slicking your thighs as you tried to roll your hips closer, trying to ease some of the maddening pleasure inside you that made your cunt clench around nothing.

“Oh please, please,” you begged again, desperate and needy.

He finally pushed one thick finger inside you, and you cried out as he immediately found that spot inside you that made you see stars; rubbing it over and over it until you were gasping and panting, babbling pleas and promises to be such a good girl for him if he would only let you come.

Finally, you felt his finger moving and you thought he would give you the release your craved for. Instead, he pulled out completely and you let out a loud keening whine, tears gathering on the corner of your eyes from need and frustration.

“Shush now, baby,” he cooed, petting your hair gently and kissing your forehead. “We’re almost there. Can you hang on a little longer for me?”

“Yes, boss.” Your voice was weak, shaky. You were panting like you ran a marathon and you had never felt this high-strung before, but the thought of saying no to him was the farthest thing from your mind.

“Such a good girl for me,” he said with a smile, finally taking off his boxers and freeing his cock, giving you a moment to admire it.

You had a feeling he was big, but it was even better than you imagined, and you wanted in your mouth. Desperately.  

“Not tonight,” he replied, and you realized you said it aloud, your mind too foggy to stop your thoughts from coming to your mouth. “But I want that too.”

You watched as he reached into the bedside table, picking up a condom and rolling it on himself, stroking his cock a couple of times, grunting low in his throat and you whined again because you wanted to do that. You want to touch him. Feel him.

His large hands took hold of your legs, bringing them to his shoulders as he knelt before you, lining himself with your entrance, his head teasing your slit and making you throw your head back and groan.

“Is this what you want, baby?”

“Yes!” you all but screamed, trying to move, but this position left you with very little leverage. “Yes! Please! I want it! Please, boss.”

He grinned at you and finally pushed inside and this time you shouted, the pleasure almost too overwhelming with the way he filled and stretched you, rubbing at all the right spots. He bent closer, catching your lips in a dirty kiss while you acclimated to the intrusion, his thumb working magic on your clit and you didn’t know how it was possible for you to be this close already. Then again, you had been teetering the edge of it for so long with his teasing that it really only took a nudge now.

“Ready?” he asked against your lips and all you could manage of a nod.

He finally started to move, pulling all the way out before pushing inside again, slow and steady, letting you adjust to him, before speeding up his thrusts as he increased pressure on your clit and laved your neck and chest with bite and kisses, sucking on the spot just below your ear that had you weak and struggle against your retrains as your first orgasm washed over you, making you gasp and shake.

He fucked you through it, a smug grin making its way into his lips as your body quaked and quivered, his movements getting that tension deep inside you to start to build up again. It was so overwhelming you couldn’t think, you couldn’t focus on anything except beg incoherently for it. A flow of confused pleas spilling from your lips as he fucked you, his pace increasing, his hips slapping against you, filling the room with the sound of skin hitting wetly against skin, and your moans.

“Look at me, baby,” he asked in between pants, his thumb brushing against the edge of your mask. “I’m gonna take this off. This time I wanna look at you when you come.”

You nodded, too far gone to care. You could only focus on yourself and how close you were again. You barely felt him sneaking one hand behind your head, undoing to knot that held the mask in place, before pulling it off.

“Fuck!” he whispered, his blue eyes widening behind his own mask as he looked at you. You saw something changing in him seconds before his mouth crashed on yours and you could almost taste his own desperation and he fucked you with abandon, his thumb swirling your clit. “Come for me, baby.”

His words snapped something inside you, making pleasure crash over you again and your entire body felt alight as you came, crying out a name you shouldn’t be saying here.

“HENRY!” you shouted, body shaking and trembling, walls tightening around him and he moaned your name against your neck, thrusting through his own release.

You two lied there, sweaty, tired and out of breath, bodies pressed together as your heartrates returned to normal along with your breathing and your ability to think.

Two things registered on your mind then: you shouted out your boss’ name when you came. And this man who was supposed to be a stranger called out yours.

“You know my name,” you declared, fighting off the haze of pleasure so you could focus on him. “How do you know my name?”

You felt him sighing heavily against your neck before he raised himself and looked at you. Without saying a word, he untied you, rubbing your wrists soothingly.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, helping you sit up. You shook your head, still watching him with a frown.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know,” he said, once again sighing. “I promised I didn’t know. Not until your mask was off.”

Before you could ask him what he was talking about, he took off his own mask and you stared stunned and mortified because it was him. It was Henry.

The man you’ve been fantasizing about for half a year. The reason you wanted to call the supposed stranger boss in the first place. The man you called out the name when you came.

“Fuck!” you whispered, all the afterglow from the mind-blowing orgasms you just had completely forgotten. You just wanted the ground to open and swallow you whole.

“Look, I know. Of all the places in the world…” Henry let out a small, humorless chuckle. “I didn’t even know you saw me like that.”

He tried to move closer to you, but the motion made him aware of the mess he was about to make on the bed with the condom coming off from his now softening cock.

“Give me a sec and we’ll talk about this, ok?”

You waited until he was inside the bathroom to jump off the bed, pulling on your dress and all but running out of the room, putting on your heels as you went. You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t even look at him. Talk about this? It was unthinkable. You just needed to get as far away from Henry; as far away from this damned place as you could.

You should’ve listened to yourself. You knew this wouldn’t end up well. Were you really surprised it turned into this train wreck?

xxx

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The Supers and the Not

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Okay. The original request was for Cyborg!Jimin, but I made a few tweaks. I’ve been recently intrigued by this Stephen Hawking excerpt, where he warns about the future of designer genetics v. humanity. So.... Jimin is not a cyborg, but a genetically engineered superhuman. AND, GO. (OH, + this dialogue: “Are you warm enough?”)

Rating: PG-13

WC: 3,637

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

The term superhuman has held many meanings throughout history.

In comic books, superhumans are superheroes. They are beings who use their powers for good, who protect society from unnatural adversaries. The term has changed greatly since then. When science grew bolder and human curiosity surged, the word superhuman began to transform. It became a label; one which separated a new category of human from old.

The supers from the not.

Back in the old days, designer babies (as they were called) were edited merely for defects. Scientists easily identified potential genetic diseases like sickle-cell or Huntington’s, sending in nanotech to modify and fix the code. Obviously, there was debate around this and obviously, humans were wary – but the benefits were proven to outweigh the cost.

Scientists did not stop there. No longer did they research disease, but the human psyche itself. As the map of human DNA filled in its corners, their research became riskier, more complicated and far more exciting. Once all human defects were eliminated, what else remained but the good traits?

Good traits – which could become great.

The first superhumans were not called super. Super was a nickname generated by an overenthusiastic media before they grasped what their existence truly meant. The supers were a class of human beings all on their own – able to see further, hear better, run faster. They were taller, more beautiful and far more intelligent. This was the real kicker – humans have survived extinction based on their wit alone. The appearance of supers meant regular humans could no longer compete.

The so-called supers were turned against the not.

You are not super. Your parents could not afford you to be. While many your age were conceived in a tube; their embryos tested, operated on and perfected; you were conceived the old-fashioned way, with a virtual roll of the dice.

Still, you have always done well for yourself. In a world where you were born at a natural disadvantage, you have always managed to survive. Survival is truly the best-case scenario given your circumstances. Always, you have harbored the unique ability to assess a situation, determine its risks and choose the right outcome. Some call it luck, others skill, but you know it for what it truly is – the only option.

Take now, for instance.

Currently you sit in a white, pristine lobby on a white, pristine couch in front of a white, pristine receptionist. She keeps glancing your way, wrinkling her nose as though you have a strange smell. Warily, you shift in your seat and wonder if somehow you do. Maybe her sense of smell is so acute she can pick up on an aroma you cannot.

Or maybe she is only an ass. This option seems more likely to you.

When the door to the waiting room swings open, you look up. A woman holds it ajar with her hip, checking the hologram hovering above her wrist. 

“Y/N?” she asks, sounding utterly bored.

“That’s me,” you say, rising to your feet.

Swiftly, she looks your way and wrinkles her nose. “Follow me.”

She turns, the door nearly falling shut behind her. You are forced to run in order to catch it, barely grasping its edge before it closes on your hand. From behind you, the receptionist snickers and, glowering, you step through the door. The hallway beyond it is equally pristine and white.

The assistant is already halfway down the hall.

“So,” you pant, practically jogging to keep up with her stride. “The ad didn’t mention what specifically I would be doing. Do you have an overview?”

For the first time since meeting, the woman smiles. Paused in the middle of the hall, she looks at you as though you are something to be pitied and you repress the urge to slap the look from her face.

“And yet you still answered the ad. Most peculiar.”

Drawing yourself to your full height – which is still several centimeters below hers – you glare. “As though I have a choice,” you say coldly. “There aren’t many jobs left which accept normals.”

“Pity.”

She walks past you, opening a doorway you had not yet noticed. The seams of it blend into the wall, barely even noticeable unless you have super vision. The room beyond seems darker than the hall. Finally, the walls surrounding you are not white – it takes you a second to adjust to the lighting.

“He’s waiting,” the assistant says, as though you are a gigantic waste of her time. Maybe you are.

Walking forward, you hear the door fall shut behind you. The new room is utterly silent, nothing to be heard but the sound of your breathing – and his. Your potential employer stands behind a large desk, as though this were a formal gathering of businessmen, and not a rather sketchy job interview.

Fuck, supers are beautiful. 

It is hard not to be dazzled by his outward appearance. A sculpted jawline, bright gaze and sharp nose – standing before him, you feel rather meek in comparison. Before you can speak, the man clears his throat.

“Sit,” he says, waving at the chair opposite. “Please, Y/N, sit. Are you warm enough? Sometimes the temperature of this room is far too cold.”

Of course, he would need confirmation of this. Most supers can sustain greater temperature fluctuations than normals. It is one of their many improvements.

Warily, you take a step closer. “You know my name.”

He smiles politely. “You did fill out an application, you know.”

“I know.” Stiffly, you pull the chair back to sit.

Silence stretches between you, both of you staring and trying not break first. Finally, he speaks. 

“How silly of me.” Chuckling good-naturedly, the man ducks his head. “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Park Jimin, but you may call me Jimin.”

“Most supers prefer to be addressed by their surname.”

Jimin’s smile falters. “Yes, well… Ah. All the same, I prefer to be called Jimin.”

“Alright.” You say this as though it is neither here nor there. “Jimin, it is.”

“Wonderful.” Jimin flicks a hand over his desk. A blue hologram appears. “Down to business, then. You’re probably wondering why my ad was so cryptic.”

Uncaring, you shrug. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Jimin pauses. “That would have been my first question.”

He seems genuinely curious and in response, your gaze narrows. The underlying implication is obvious – you normals do not think things through before acting. Not in the same way they do. Normal thought is somehow ages behind that of the supers.

Gritting your teeth, you lean forward. “The ad didn’t surprise me because, based on prior experience, supers tend to be vague about illegal requests.”

Jimin’s cheeks color. Slowly, he lowers his hand and the blue hologram fades. “I see.” Quickly, he glances at the door you entered from. “You’ve answered this kind of ad often, then.”

“Not a question.”

“No, merely an observation.” His gaze becomes shrewd. “I can see you don’t trust me.”

Not wishing to implicate yourself any further, you remain silent.

Jimin arches a brow. “Well, do you?”

“No,” you say simply. “I do not.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. My kind can be… well, cruel to yours.”

Again, you say nothing. Part of survival is knowing when to hold your tongue. Part of survival is knowing when to play the part of the lower, sub-species and when to let them know you understand.

“I need you to trust me, though,” Jimin says quietly. “I need you to trust me, since I’m going to be very, very honest with you.”

Despite your best interest, his words pique your curiosity. Supers do not often care about honesty. 

“It will be difficult to undo years of training,” you note.

Jimin laughs. The noise escapes before he can help it. “Yes,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “I suppose so. Perhaps it would be good, then to tell you who I am.”

“You’re Park Jimin. You’re a super.”

His eyes are dark brown with flecks of gold at the center. The effect inspires warmness, emotion and you trust absolutely none of it. Everything about this man is designed to draw people in. Idly, you wonder how much his father paid for it.

“True,” Jimin says. “But I am also Park Jimin, of Park Enterprises.” Launching into what can only be assumed to be his Wikipedia biography, he continues, “My father is Park Jiwoo, researcher and entrepreneur. I have no siblings. I am 169 cm tall, which is considered below average for a super and I –”

“Okay, none of that matters to me,” you interrupt, waving your hand. Jimin ceases talking immediately, blinking owlishly and you wonder if this is the first time he has been interrupted. “God,” you groan, slouching low in your seat. “You supers are all the same, aren’t you? Listing facts and figures like that’s all people care about.”

Jimin bristles. “That is what most people care about.”

“Not normals,” you say, softening a tad. “Not humans, really. Tell me something different. Tell me something personal.”

The blue light from his desk makes him seem almost haunted. Likely, the lights in his room are intelligent; designed to reflect his mood and adjust appropriately. You wonder what they glean from him now, since he seems stressed in your gaze. Dark circles shadow his eyes, his grip tense on the table before him. Uneasily, you wonder what a super could have to be worried about.

“I don’t really know what you mean.” His brow puckers. “Do you want my government ID number, or something? That’s personal.”

“God, no,” you choke out, trying hard not to laugh. “If you gave me that, they’d just think I stole it.”

His lips lift in a ghost of a smile. “You’re right, they would.”

“I know I’m right. I want something different. I want to hear about…” Glancing around, you wonder what could possibly make you trust this man. What could possibly make you relate to this super. There are photographs on his desk – a family photo, which is interesting. Looking up, you meet Jimin’s gaze. “Tell me the last time you cried.”

“The last time I… cried?”

“Or, can you not?” Politely, you cross one knee over the other. “Are you supers so far removed from humanity that you no longer feel? Were your tear ducts removed along with your defects?”

“I can still cry,” Jimin mutters, gaze heated.

“Then, prove it. Tell me.”

Slowly, he leans back in his seat. “Last Thursday. 10:12 AM.”

“And what happened to make you cry?”

“I learned information which scared me.”

His honesty catches you off guard. Either Park Jimin is a very good actor, or he is telling the truth. He truly does look fearful, which does not bode well for you. Fearful people tend to make bad decisions – and fearful supers tend to make cataclysmic ones.

“What information?”

Jimin shakes his head slowly. “I can’t tell you that. Not without you trusting me. Not without me trusting you.”

“Then, trust me.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Jimin slowly exhales. “Meeting you like this goes against everything I stand for. There are so many things which could go wrong... I have done the probability calculations over and over – twice while we were sitting here – and it is ludicrous to think I might find the solution, when –”

“Jimin.” Quietly, you interrupt.

He pauses before he looks up.

You meet his gaze. “Why am I here?”

Jimin’s expression morphs from stoic to helpless. “Because... you’re normal.”

“And?”

“And,” Jimin says, closing his eyes. “That means you are immune to the problem.”

The way he says problem sends a chill down your spine. He speaks as though he has exhausted every option and this is his last resort – and likely, you are. That is what tends to come from meetings like this.

This is not your first meeting from an unlisted number. This is not your first interaction where a person has disguised their voice while answering the phone. It isn’t your first time meeting someone in an unknown location and receiving details of a task said person needed performed. 

You do what you must. You receive payment. You survive.

This seems different, though – Jimin seems different.

With his eyes closed, Jimin looks almost human. You suppose that he is, but not in the same way you are. His skin is flawless, the milk of it dusted with blue veins and dark lashes. When he opens his eyes, you expect the illusion of his beauty to fade. It does not.

“What’s the problem?” you say, pushing these distracting thoughts aside.

“It’s easier… if I show you.” Reluctantly, Jimin reaches out to pull up a hologram. Blue strands of DNA twist before you in mid-air. “There have been many accepted edits of the human genome. Some are more progressive than others. The ampliointelligens procedure, for example, is the most widely known. It is where –”

“A person’s intelligence is increased,” you interrupt, bored. “I know. It’s Latin.”

Jimin quickly covers his surprise. “Of course. Anyways, the procedure was considered the first of the… super procedures. The ones which diverted from genetic correction to genetic improvement. And, as with any new field… there were errors.”

“Errors?”

This fact is news to you – nothing about mistakes was reported to the public, which explains Jimin’s trepidation on the matter. In the entire history of the supers, there has never once been any admittance of error. Their strength is their narrative, after all. The supers deserve their positions, their wealth and their influence because they are better. Because they can foresee things normal humans cannot. All of this fails to be relevant if they are proven to be imperfect.

“The concept of intelligence.” Jimin uses air quotes on the word. “Is hard to understand and even harder to change. Gene editing is simple. Take something like Huntington’s disease – we know the genetic defect which causes it. We can simply screen the DNA, cut out the harmful bit and replace it. That’s an over-simplification of the procedure of course, but – there’s low risk of something going wrong.”

“If you say so.”

“However, with something like intelligence… there’s still debate about which portions of the human genome are the most impactful. There are several accepted versions of the ampliointelligens procedure because of this disagreement.”

Hearing him say this, you blink. Again, this is news not known to the general public and you wonder why Jimin is telling you this – any one of these tidbits would be worth a fortune if the supers have covered them up for so long.

The surprise on your face must be obvious, because Jimin then sighs. “The variables increase with intelligence. There isn’t one DNA strand to consider, but millions. Trillions. Each tweak a surgeon makes has far-reaching repercussions; ones which geneticists admitted were impossible to know definitively at the time. And yet…”

“And yet, people underwent the procedure.”

“People were greedy. They are greedy,” Jimin corrects with a tick to his jaw. “Once a reasonable procedure was created, people wanted it – no matter the cost, no matter the risk. If there was a chance their children could be super, they took it.”

You notice Jimin says the word super with a bitterness usually reserved by your kind. This surprises you, if nothing else. He doesn’t seem to enjoy what he is any more than you do.

“So.” You tap your fingers against your knee. “Back to the problem you mentioned.”

You assume this problem is why you’ve been asked here. There’s something Jimin needs and the sooner he asks it of you, the sooner you can leave. The sooner you can cease sitting before him, becoming oddly charmed by a man you despise.

He nods. “We’ve known about a mutation for years, but it has recently transformed into something insidious. One of the ampliointelligens procedures is the cause of this mutation. The DNA edit takes over, it spirals out of control and overpowers the human ability to empathize. This leads to rash decision-making, high levels of narcissism and the inability to relate to others. It can be… crippling.”

“Narcissistic and unable to relate?” Pressing your lips together, you keep them from twitching. “However will you separate them from the rest of the supers?”

“It isn’t the same,” Jimin says, a bit heated. “Supers can empathize, even if they place less value upon emotion than normals do. Supers still factor in an emotional response.”

“How noble.”

“You don’t understand.” Jimin leans forward. “Those afflicted by the mutation are incapable of decision-making – and what’s worse, they control every major resource in the country. Yes,” he says, spotting the look on your face. “The problem is bigger than just supers versus normals. If this disease spirals out of control, there won’t be a world left to save.”

“Is that what you intend to do?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Save the world?”

“I intend to try,” Jimin says quietly.

Maybe it’s this that convinces to you how serious this is. Jimin stares, brow furrowed, and you get the idea he doesn’t lie very often. Slowly, you tilt your head and observe him.

“How many?”

His brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“How many supers are afflicted?”

Staring at you, Jimin seems to sag in his seat. If he had a glass of alcohol in his hand, you imagine he would drink it. 

“About half the existing supers underwent the affected procedure,” he admits. “And it does not seem to be a question of if, but of when.”

“Oh.”

“Take my father, for instance,” Jimin continues, not looking away. “He began to exhibit symptoms last Thursday morning. I, on the other hand, have yet to show any.”

“How…” You pause, licking your lips. “If the procedure is as certain as you say, how does the public not yet know? How has it been kept quiet so far?”

“Those in power have methods of silencing.”

Not wanting to know more than that, you glance away. “I take it you think these methods will not remain effective for much longer?”

“I do not.”

“So, then why am I…” Glancing sharply upwards, understanding dawns. “You want me to be your guinea pig. You want to perform experiments on me because I’m immune. Because I’m normal.”

“Lord, no.” Jimin winces. “At least – not in the manner you speak of. I would like to compare samples of our DNA, yes. I’d like intelligence testing, brain scans – all of that would be on the table, but what I need you for most is observation.”

“Observation. Like, me in a glass room and a strait jacket?”

“It’s the other way around, I’m afraid. I need you to observe me.”

“You?” 

“Like I said.” A sliver of desperation seeps into his tone. “I have no idea when my mind won’t be… my own. I’m seeing firsthand how my father has changed. I need someone neutral – someone not prone to the problem themselves – to weigh in.”

“And that person… is me?”

“Based on this meeting, I think so.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Y/N, has your intelligence ever been tested?”

“Are you serious? Intelligence testing is reserved for supers. Surely, you know that. Normals have no need to be tested.”

“And yet,” Jimin says calmly. “Since you entered this room, you’ve corrected me multiple times, synthesized complicated arguments and even translated Latin to English. Whatever you are,” he says, leaning forward. “It is more than what you let on.”

He sounds so self-assured in this statement, you almost believe him. Pushing the idea away, you glance at the door and gather your thoughts. No matter what choice you make, there’s no good way out. You were stuck from the moment you agreed to this meeting. Jimin has revealed too much to you – and yes, information is power, but not the kind that you hold.

Knowing weaknesses about the supers places a target on your back. Slowly, you return to him. 

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” you say softly. “If I don’t agree to your terms, you’ll just send people after me when I leave.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Why not? I would, if I were you.”

“Because.” There’s something hard, something unreadable to his gaze. “I really need you to trust me.”

Variables flash through your mind, a fight or flight instinct warring in your bones. Eventually, you ignore all of it and instead, listen to the voice which whispers in the back of your mind. 

“Find,” you say slowly. “I’ll do it.”

Jimin sags into his chair. “Thank the fucking gods.” He sighs. “I didn’t really have a Plan B.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” Jimin says. “I’m afraid this is my final resort.”

“Then, why –”

“I think that’s enough chit-chat for today.” Pushing back his chair, Jimin stands from his desk. Pressing a button on the side, a noise buzzes in the hall. “I think it’s time you reviewed the terms of the contract. One of my assistants will show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms?” 

Without thinking, you stand as well.

“Of course,” Jimin shrugs. “You’ll be staying with me for the duration of the work period. Everything is outlined in the contract – which you will have until the end of this week to make amendments to. Will that be that satisfactory?”

“I…” Blinking at him, your mind reels. “Yes.”

“Good.” 

Clasping both hands before him, Jimin morphs back into the image of super. Banished is the distressed man you saw briefly but still, he lingers around the edges. 

“I look forward to working with you, Y/N,” he says quietly.

The door opens to reveal the tall assistant from earlier. She glances in surprise from you to Jimin, as though she did not expect you to stay.

Seeing her reaction, your smile broadens. “I look forward to working with you, too, Jimin,” you announce, walking towards the door.

It is mainly for the benefit of the assistant, but you cannot help but realize there is some truth to the words. Despite all you have said, that voice still exists deep within you. The one which usually warns you of danger is unusually silent in his presence. This unsettles you for a moment and then you walk past, stepping into the hall.

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/4/2020: SOCIETY

Without having a survey to back me up, I feel comfortable asserting that as a horror fan, you go through different phases with SOCIETY. It’s a basic fact of life, and yet it morphs and mutates underneath you, shocking you anew just when you think you’ve got a grip on it. You never forget your first time, because there is simply nothing like it. Then, after you get over the initial shock of its patented brand of body horror, you start to take it for granted; it's so broad and monolithic that it becomes something like the Grand Canyon--when it’s not right there in front of you, you begin to experience it more iconically, as part of the wallpaper of existence, rather than an in-your-face confrontation with the limits of experience. Then, you revisit it every few years (or months, depending on what sort of person you are), and the prophylactic layer that your brain has wrapped around your memories of it--the one that allows you to think of SOCIETY as a fun, wacky cheap thrill--begins to crumble, and you realize all over again how iconoclastically vile it is. Wherever you happen to be at, with this inimitable genre landmark, you'd be hard pressed to deny that it earns its royal status among horror movies, just for being so uniquely fucked up.

Filmmaker Brian Yuzna is best known as the co-creator of the indispensable RE-ANIMATOR (or as the co-writer of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS...depending on what sort of person you are, again), itself a milestone achievement in the blending of sex and gore that so characterized '80s horror production. That film clearly brought out the best in Yuzna and frequent collaborator Stuart Gordon (also of HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS fame...among other things), but it's interesting to see how they operate apart, to understand the unique ingredients that each filmmaker brought to the more perfect union of their classic Lovecraft adaptation. Gordon skewed darker and more intellectual, as evidenced by the end of his career with the shattering mob thriller KING OF THE ANTS, the disturbing true crime drama STUCK, and the Mamet-penned EDMOND. Yuzna, for his part, is almost anti-intellectual, preferring to cook up blackly comic, semi-pornographic nightmares like his two increasingly horny RE-ANIMATOR sequels, the terminal S&M fantasy RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3, and the shamelessly hokey comic book adaptation FAUST: LOVE OF THE DAMNED. Yuzna's lack of shame is really his defining feature as an artist, and nowhere is this more obvious than in his directorial debut and signature masterpiece, SOCIETY.

Salvador Dali's "The Great Masturbator," a chief visual inspiration for SOCIETY.

Yuzna was able to leverage the success of RE-ANIMATOR to lock in two directorial opportunities, BRIDE OF RE-ANIMATOR, and a bizarre body horror exercise about a Beverly Hills orphan who discovers that not only are his adoptive family from a different bloodline, but they're not even from the same species. That both pictures employed the writing team of Woody Keith and Rick Fry gives you a little taste of what to expect from SOCIETY, but to be frank, the latter threatens to make the former look like a very special episode of ER; "overkill" barely begins to describe SOCIETY’s ambitious assault on the human body. In a recent interview, the philipino-american director giggles perversely, "I think my friends were a little embarrassed for me (when they saw SOCIETY)," and this sound bite reminded me that the last, most important ingredient that Yuzna contributes to any project is unabashed joy. It's a little hard to imagine stomaching SOCIETY without it.

In this unusual scene from the class struggle in Beverly Hills, Billy Warlock (son of HALLOWEEN 2's Michael Myers, Dick Warlock) plays Bill Whitney, a rich, handsome, athletic high school student with a heavy duty anxiety disorder. Although he appears to have it all, he is plagued by nightmares and hallucinations, reflecting suspicions that the family that spoils him is also out to get him. Perhaps this is all understandable, though. Bill is under a lot of pressure these days, with his parents devoting all of their attention to his sister's coming out party, and his narcissistic girlfriend pushing him to ingratiate himself to the assholes higher up the social ladder; it's enough to make any teenager feel alienated and insecure. But, do these garden variety anxieties account for his visions of his sister's body deforming itself unnaturally, or the dubious evidence he finds that her debutante ball involves incestuous orgies and human sacrifice? Is Bill simply crumbling under the strain of societal expectations, or is the friction with his shrink, his parents, and his peers all symptomatic of an elaborate plot against him by elites who are truly less than human?

I can’t believe they use this cheapo blanket trick MORE THAN ONCE in a movie that is famous for its unforgettable special effects, and I guess I kind of love it.

In case I haven't made the answer abundantly obvious, I'll add that while SOCIETY is the purest expression of Yuzna-ness on the market, it has an important co-author in Screaming Mad George. The eccentric japanese FX master, whose name is apparently an amalgamation of Mad Magazine, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and...George, has produced some of horror's most outrageous makeup and visual effects, mostly for Yuzna, many of them in SOCIETY. If you've seen even a trailer for Alex Winter's 1993 oddity FREAKED--which is itself a grossout criticism of American social standards--then you are already familiar with SMG's trademark style. He specializes in twisted perversions of the human form that would make a cenobite blush, driven by a penchant for puns, and influenced equally by THE THING's Rob Botin, and Big Daddy Roth’s Rat Fink style. Screaming Mad George is instrumental in articulating Yuzna's premise: that behind the shimmering veneer of success and sophistication, the upper class are just a bunch of degenerates, who literally degenerate into something unimaginable behind closed doors. It's impossible to imagine SOCIETY without his sinuous, slithering monstrosities, or his indescribable realization of their most important social event, "the shunt".

One of many great images from a zine I wish I owned, on SMG’s Facebook page.

It's easy to get overwhelmed by SOCIETY's visual impact, but its message is just as potent now as it was at the end of the Reagan era: Rich people are not only different from the rest of us, but in fact, they aren't even human. Writers Keith and Fry make an interesting choice of hero to help put this across. A lazier writer would have selected any archetype from the Freaks and Geeks set to create an easy Us vs Them tension, but SOCIETY is led by a promising young man who, for reasons he himself does not yet understand, is just not "the right kind of people". Bill appears to have every advantage in life, including a level of popularity that wins him presidency of the debate team despite his nerdier rival’s superior prowess--and yet, he suffers from a stigmatizing psychiatric disorder that is the natural result of feeling indefinably different from one's peers, and intuiting that, as a consequence, they don't even really like you. The shallow jock with deep-seated emotional problems is a much more interesting protagonist for this kind of social allegory than the charismatic outcasts that you get in movies like THE FACULTY and DISTURBING BEHAVIOR, for whom the idea that the elites could be aliens is just de rigueur.

It's worth noting that this complexity of character extends to Bill's love interest, sympathetic society girl Clarissa Carlyn (Playboy Playmate Devin DeVasquez). At first, she seems villainously eager to introduce Bill to the many splendors of "the shunting", but as the plot against him mounts to its horrifying conclusion, she defects. There appears to be a reason for this, although honestly, this is the most difficult part of SOCIETY for me to wrap my head around. Clarissa lives as an essentially independent adult, only burdened by her mother (Pamela Matheson), a possibly brain damaged hulk who lurks in and out of various scenes just to be disturbing, always announced by some toots on a tuba, before eventually siding with our heroes. I'm really not sure what's supposed to be going on in this part of the movie, except that this character contributes to a number of distasteful jokes. But, I hold on to the idea that by virtue of whatever disorder Mrs. Carlyn suffers from, she serves the purpose of priming Clarissa to rebel, since her very existence makes her daughter something of a societal outcast herself. That's the best I can do.

In any case, everyone working on SOCIETY commits completely, with Mrs. Carlyn being no exception. The movie's climactic orgy of the damned is an all hands on deck operation, just as reliant on Screaming Mad George's artistic abilities as it is on the actors' responsibility to make you believe that this fucked up shit is really happening. There's a visceral patina of sleaze spread over the entire film, dripping from the way that characters talk to and touch each other, flirting and flaunting their bodies in a distinctly unseemly fashion, even when it stays within the realm of mundane reality. This constant sinister, insinuating attitude on the part of the whole cast lays the foundation for what is to come, and while I appreciate everybody's hard work, my favorite performance is from an actor who only comes in at the very end: David Wiley as society king Judge Carter. Wiley's career consisted almost exclusively of the most ordinary sort of television work, which makes his outrageous turn in this alien porno flick all the more respectable. While other characters transition from suspicious pod people to full-on mutated perverts, Judge Carter has to show up just for the finale, establish his authority, rip off his clothes, and plunge straight into a sea of slime, happily fisting his way through the cast. Wiley meets this challenge with aplomb, making of himself a hybrid of Robert Englund and Gene Hackman, perfectly embodying the movie's joyful absurdity, and never betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. 

SOCIETY is very much a don't-look-down type of endeavor, a fairy that could expire at the slightest lapse in faith. There's a visual pun in the last act that's so gross, so offensive, so frankly idiotic, that I don't have the courage to describe it; my whole body tenses up when I know this scene is coming, as if it were the meat hook scene in TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE or the brutal rape in the middle of SHOWGIRLS. I don't like it, but at the same time, I respect Yuzna's unhesitating commitment to show it to me, and I think that actor Charles Lucia should get some kind of award for shouldering the burden so valiantly. SOCIETY is a daring movie in the truest sense, a film with more balls than brains, and in this it exposes the limitation of intelligence and taste, and the real need for pure transgression, in producing art of any real value. You might argue with me about whether Yuzna's masturbatory magnum opus really qualifies as art, but to respond to that, I'll quote the great transgressor Alejandro Jodorowsky: "If you are great, EL TOPO is a great picture. If you are limited, EL TOPO is limited." So stick that in your shunt and smoke it.

PS Here, have this stuck in your head for the rest of your life.

[g0t-ri5h]

Popular || Jasmine & Margot

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Drug Store PARTIES: @halequeenjas​ and @g0t-ri5h SUMMARY: Jasmine helps Margot with a makeup emergency. See also; ...

Sleepless nights had become sleepless weeks.  Ever since she had looked into the creature’s third eye, Margot had been plagued by visions of the same entity over and over again. The more sleep deprived she became, the more it seemed that the nightmares bled into her reality. Last night, it had clasped its decaying palms around Margot’s wrists and held her down until she shook it off. When she ‘awoke’, she could swear that there were bruises on her arms, tender to the touch, but the blemishes had faded by the time the sun came up. Unfortunately, the blemishes under her eyes had not. They had grown deeper and darker, and Margot was starting to resemble a corpse more than a human. As a teenager, her mother would plaster her cheeks and lips with rouge in an attempt to distract from the baggage under her eyes, an experience neither enjoyed. Sadly Margot knew that her appearance would start to warrant concerned looks if left uncovered, so inside a drug store she found herself. She flittered between the many aisles until she came across the makeup section. Looking at all of the products, Margot became very, very lost.

While the drug store wasn’t her top choice for shopping for makeup, this particular store did have a pretty solid selection of liquid matte lipsticks. After accidentally losing the one Jasmine had in her purse, she was in need of a quick reapplication before hitting her next showing. As she made her way to the most familiar section of the store, she spotted a young woman who was clearly struggling. Her eyes were dark and her skin looked almost lifeless. She seemed to be eying through some products, none of which were right for her skin type or had proper undertones to match her skin. “Okay, you need to step away from this display entirely. All that matte mousse crap is going to 100% cake on your face and not in a good way,” she said as a matter of factly. There was no way she was going to let this otherwise pretty young woman ruin her features with awful products. “Come here,” she directed toward the display that had a medium coverage liquid foundation and concealer, “Flip your arm over so I can see your wrist.” She picked up a few shades of concealer and compared them. Her skin had cool undertones. With the right shade of Covergirl concealer in hand, she handed it to the girl. “So this is the best concealer you can find in a drug store. You’re gonna want to use this only around your eyes. I’ll grab the corresponding foundation.” 

Margot flinched as the woman appeared beside her. It was becoming clear that the three cups of coffee she had medicated herself with this morning were causing her to be somewhat on edge. Matte mousse? Concealer? Margot was out of her depth. She took a step back and surrendered her wrist as ordered to the stranger. “Um, thank you?” As confused as she was by this sudden disruption, Margot was so very grateful for the assistance, knowing full well she would’ve been here for hours fretting over the many creams and powders. She watched as the woman compared her colouring with the product, something she would have never thought to do. Her makeup guru left her for a moment, compiling all of the necessities. While she did so, Margot caught her reflection in one of the display mirrors, cringing at the person that gazed back at her. The fluorescent lighting wasn’t doing her many favours, drawing out the bluish grey hues of her skin. She pinched her cheeks twice, as if that would help. “Be honest. How bad do I look?” Margot asked her, preparing herself for the harsh truth. Comparatively, her helper was dressed and primped impeccably, so coordinated and graceful. Margot felt a pang of envy.

While Maybelline definitely wasn’t her go to foundation, Jasmine knew it could do in a pinch when you needed a good spot touch. She’d need some proper sponges for it which she quickly grabbed. This shade looked perfect for the girl though it was apparent what she really needed was a solid night’s sleep. If her issues were on brand with White Crest’s norm, she doubted that would come so easily. She was hesitant to offer her help there. Unless it was ghost related, makeup help was about all she could provide. “Anytime. While drugstore makeup is not the ideal, it can do in a pinch.” With another quick lookover, she decided some blush would be needed to return some form of color to the girl’s face. Poor thing really did look rough and she was asking how bad it was. With a slight frown, she answered, “I’m always honest, and I’m gonna be honest kid, it looks like you’re in serious need of some sleep. I know things don’t always work that way though, so we’ll get some blush to put some color back in your cheeks.” Part of her felt inclined to ask, so she went with it. As she thumbed through different shades of blush, she blurted out, “So, is there a reason you’re clearly not sleeping?” 

As the products were being picked for her, Margot took a deep relaxing breath. At least one of her problems was being solved. She’d find at least a bit of solace in that. The stranger was right, she did need sleep, badly. It wasn’t fear of this nightmare that was keeping her up at night, moreso the feeling it left behind. When Margot awoke she always felt helpless… Watched, as if she were a circus animal being fawned over and tormented. “Bad dreams.” Margot answered vaguely, looking down to her thumbs. She picked at her already battered cuticles until she drew blood. She wiped the drips on her black sweater. Perhaps it was tired delusion that made her ask; “Have you ever had a dream that you could swear was real? Like you’re asleep, but also not?” She thought for another moment before continuing the stream of consciousness, “It’s as if he exists behind my eyelids. If I close my eyes, there he is.” The truth was she was starting to see him everywhere, even when her eyes were open. But Margot wasn’t ready to admit that yet. 

While picking out makeup always brought Jasmine a sense of ease, the girl’s answer did not. Though her tired eyes were aging her, there was no way she was older than Nell. She was just a kid and someone she had a suspicion that her nightmares were not quite natural. Her own had plagued her enough times and more so lately since that freaky fog rolled in. It was hard to not wonder if the two were related, but outside of picking out makeup, there wasn’t much else she could do for the girl. “Nightmares are a bitch,” she said plainly. As much was true, but she never had them this bad, not even after performing her first exorcism. This girl looked like she’d been through hell and back. Concern showed in her now furrowed brows as she handed her the blush. “Well, kind of,” she explained though the truth was it was actually real and she knew that, “Have you been seeing your dreams when you’re awake or something? Or just the dream feels real while you’re in it?” Two very different things though one was more likely related to the townwide bullshit currently happening. Jasmine wasn’t sure which answer was worse. 

“I-I suppose.” Margot took to gazing at her hands again, “Maybe- maybe I was awake.” A shiver ran down her spine, imagining the creature existing in reality was too much. She wished it were not the truth but she knew it to be deep down. Still, there would be a logical explanation; the product of sleep deprivation or maybe even psychedelic mushrooms. That had to be it. Her mind could not handle more than that. “I don’t know how to fix it. I’m so tired.” Margot drew her hands to her face to hide her shame and sadness. After a few moments, she gathered her composure and dropped them back to her sides. She gave a weak smile, as if it would be a reassuring gesture, an attempt in showing that she was not completely losing it. “Thank you for your help. It’s probably obvious that I’m clueless when it comes to this stuff. My name is Margot. I forgot to introduce myself.” She could hear her father’s voice inside her head, chastising her for being so discourteous.

“If you’re very sleep deprived you could have been,” Jasmine answered with a hint of concern evident in her tone. Something about the way she spoke definitely sounded like a potential haunting which had her on high alert. At the same time, she didn’t want to appear crazy. “What exactly is it that you’re seeing,” she asked and kept a careful eye on the girl to read her body language. She was far from a body language expert, but she could try to go off intuition. She frowned as the girl covered her face. Sometimes, she longed for the days when she went about her life not caring about this crap, but she knew what was out there. She knew what could happen if these things were left to fester and this girl seemed so young. However, it wasn’t long before she was composed again and introducing herself. With a soft smile, she said, “Margot, it’s good to meet you. I’m Jasmine Hale and I’m pretty much an expert with all things beauty, fashion, or real estate related.” She fished around her purse quickly and handed her a card. “I’m actually somewhat good with dream stuff, too. If you need anything, just give me a call, okay?” Dream stuff. Ghost stuff. Same difference, right? Even if it was out of her realm of expertise, the Vurals and Leah might have an answer. 

The concern she showed only made Margot feel more uneasy. Perhaps this was more serious than a few night terrors? “He’s uh—“, how could she put this without sounding crazy? “A man, like a dead, dirty, decaying man with these piercing eyes— three of them. The third one though,” Margot shuddered, closing her eyes and seeing him so vividly, “the third one is on his body, inside of his chest.” Margot’s eyes reopened, comforted by the light of day. She looked longingly at the stranger, a plea for help. Margot took Jasmine’s card and scanned it. She was in real estate, no wonder she was so beautiful and manicured. An expert saleswoman. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Margot smiled with gratitude. “I feel like I need to give you something, you know, for helping me. I’m, uh, good with computers. So if you’re ever looking to build a website for your business or, I don’t know, set-up some security cameras, I owe you one. Just call me.” Margot took her phone from her back pocket and dialed Jasmine's number then hung up. “Now you've got my number.”

The word dead made her shift and stand a bit taller. Jasmine never heard of a ghost with a third eye. Ghosts just looked like how the person looked when they died. This sounded like an honest to god nightmare or something worse. She really hoped it was the latter. “That definitely sounds terrifying,” she agreed and frowned slightly at the clear discomfort Margot was displaying. “Are you superstitious at all? Apparently salt is supposed to help with that sort of thing. Probably like a placebo-- I think that’s the word, but don’t hold me to it. Sometimes little things that make us feel safer help with nightmares.” Was that kind of bullshit? Yes. But if she was being haunted, salt would help. This explanation just sounded less like an insane person’s ramblings. Normally, Jasmine was all about even exchange for her services, but Margot was just a kid and all she had done was pick out some makeup. Still, computer services could be useful to have. “I’ll keep that in mind and save your number,” she said with a smile. If it was anything too intensive, she’d still pay her, but it was always good to make connections. “Do you work with computers or are you still in school,” she asked curiously. 

At the mention of salt and superstition, Margot screwed up her nose instinctively, unable to hide her dismay towards the topic. “I appreciate the advice, but no, I don’t think a ritualistic salt circle will put me at all at ease.” She couldn’t resist continuing, “You believe in all that crap? The supernatural?” Her choice of words was ineloquent and probably disrespectful to Jasmine, but the concept was blasphemy to Margot’s personal beliefs. According to Margot the only world that existed was one she could see, hear and touch. Anything else was fiction. That was the only way she could live without losing her mind. She was already such a small part of this big universe, how could she fathom it being even more complicated? ”I’m a junior at the university, though I do take on some freelance work to pay for my rent and other expenses.” A freelancer, yes, that was a polite way to describe it. Better than a hacker or felon. “Is there much business in White Crest? For real estate.” Margot couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to move here, even though she had just months before. 

Jasmine tilted her head slightly at Margot’s response. Of course she didn’t believe in the supernatural. That didn’t quite ease her concern though. She was so young and what she was going through admittedly sounded like White Crest’s personal brand of supernatural crap. Jasmine knew as much, but she played along. “Oh no,” she scoffed, “As I said, placebo. But sometimes the motions help. Like those little things people like to hang up in their homes. Does it really keep ‘ghosts’ away? Probably not because ghosts aren’t real, but it makes people feel better so they don’t think every creak the wood makes is out to get them.” She did air quotes around the word ghost and hated it. She shrugged and added, “Not the best suggestion, but hey, if you could trick your brain a little, thought it might help with the nightmares.” And ghosts. Salt would definitely help with ghosts and most other spectral creatures. If it wasn’t a ghost, well, that was another story. At the mention of freelance work, she made a mental note. “I’ll keep that in mind if I can ever use any computer assistance. Or if anyone in the office could. You know how old men are, don’t even know how to rotate a damn PDF before sending an email. Don’t even get me started on them using the ‘reply all’ feature in emails.” She perked up at the question and answered, “I mostly focus on Harris Island which is super nice, so yeah, real estate business is pretty good here. People love their waterfront properties.” 

Relief washed over Margot. Finally someone who wasn’t obsessed with the occult around here. “I’ll give the salt a shot. Who knows, maybe my brain will accept the placebo.” She had a feeling her brain would accept anything in exchange for some forty winks, even if it was an irrational solution. Besides, salt on the floor would probably drive her roommate nuts; an added bonus. “Don’t get me started on how backwards some people are with technology. If I have to tell one more person to turn it off and on again, I might scream. I once got CC’ed on a college wide email and my inbox exploded like fireworks in July.” Margot could see the enthusiasm in Jasmine’s posture as she spoke about her job. “I’d love to live on the water.” Margot mused. In her past life, her family had possessed lakefront property, as well as beachfront property, and the family house in Portland. She missed that life. “Well, hey, if you ever hear of a relatively cheap rental or even someone that’s looking for a roommate, let me know. I’m growing very tired of sharing a dorm.” Margot doubted she could ever afford to live off-campus, but it didn’t hurt to put it out there. 

Oh thank god. Jasmine was internally thrilled that Margot would be giving the salt placebo a try. If it was a ghost, at least she’d be safe. If not, well, that was out of her wheelhouse and only so much she could do to help. She’d still wish the best for this young woman. Maybe check in on her soon. “Yeah, may sound silly, but if it tricks your brain it could be worth it. If not, I’m telling you, melatonin supplements are a lifesaver.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s woes over the older generation and technology. Being in real estate, she had a good deal of boomers on her email list and boy, did they struggle. If she happened to leave her door open at the office, she’d be fielding questions from fellow agents all day. “That sounds awful,” she responded with a hint of a laugh still in her voice, “The whole college? That is so many notifications!” She nodded along as she mentioned she’d love to live on the water. While it was difficult to find cheaper waterview rentals, she might be able to swing something if the place was previously haunted and she cleared it out. She’d keep an eye out. “Oh, it’s totally the best,” she exclaimed, though it was better when there weren’t sea monsters and black sea water, but that had passed, “I’ll definitely keep an eye out. You have my card in the meantime if dorm life becomes a little too rough.” 

Taking in Jasmine’s suggestions, Margot began compiling a shopping list in her head; salt, melatonin supplements, maybe even a scented candle?  “It was quite literally the worst! I considered dropping out because I was so frustrated!” Margot felt a laugh rise from her chest. How long had it been since she had laughed? Once she had settled herself, Margot gave Jasmine a polite smile. “You know, I don’t know many people around here, but I’m really glad I met you today.” She said sincerely. Margot had been on her own for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to be cared for or worried about. At least she would know one more friendly face now. She would take at least a bit of solace in that. With Jasmine’s help, Margot already felt a little lighter, the bags under her eyes weighing her down a little less. 

[marvellouslymadmim]

Yoyo potions lab julie and ypur choice who else and if its platonic or romantic >:D

Julie Hubble would honestly rather have her teeth removed sans novocain than attend the first parent’s night of Millie’s fourth year. But she needs to set a good example for Mildred and for Indigo, so she keeps her head held high and enters the foyer with the bravest smile she can muster.

No one says anything, but there are still stares. Miss Cackle welcomes her warmly, as does Dimity. She doesn’t expect any less—last term, when she’d attended Gwen and Algie’s wedding, she was met with absolute kindness.

But this is the rest of the parents. This includes the Hallows. This includes parents who have probably heard the wildest variations of what happened from their daughters. This includes people who have been judging her, judging her Millie, for nearly four years now.

Miss Cackle gives her a slip of paper with her timetable of teacher meetings. Julie scans over the list and immediately notices that Miss Hardbroom is not on it. Instead, Miss Cackle will be handling the potions class progress reports, in her own office.

She wonders if the woman is ill, though it’s hard to imagine. When Millie and Indie arrive, Julie mentions this, only to be met with sideways glances between the two girls. Apparently they already had some clue that HB wouldn’t be a part of the night’s activities.

“She’s just…still adjusting, I think,” Indie supplies, and Julie understands the girl is trying to be as delicate as possible.

Well, it’s not as if Julie has anything better to do for the next half-hour until meetings begin. So off she goes to the potions lab, rather certain that she’ll find the woman there (honestly, she can’t imagine HB curling up in her private chambers with a book while all this hustle and bustle happens outside her door—no, she’ll busy herself with her beloved potions, Julie knows).

Sure enough, after a solid two minutes of rather determined knocking, the door to the potions lab whips open, Hecate Hardbroom looming out with eyebrows high and nostrils flared.

Her anger stutters at the sight of Julie. “Miss…Hubble.”

“Miss Hardbroom,” Julie gives a courteous dip of her head, keeping her tone light. As if it’s perfectly natural for her to be standing here. “Well met.”

“Well…met.” It’s obvious that Hecate’s brain is still recalibrating, trying to understand.

“May I?” Julie motions inside. She’s slightly surprised when Hecate actually steps back, opening the door wider and allowing her entrance.

The door closes and Julie lets out a breath of relief. It’s quieter in here, and a bit darker, too. A welcome change.

“Is there—” Hecate starts, stops herself, still unsure what’s happening. “I’m not taking meetings tonight.”

“I noticed,” Julie holds up her schedule in explanation. “And I thought I’d come see why.”

“I assumed you’d be rather glad, having a evening free of my presence.” Hecate attempts a smirk, but it comes off a bit flat, a bit too pained. “As would the rest of the parents.”

“What?” Julie feigns surprise. “I’m sure the thought of spending the evening in your charming company, even for the slightest amount of time, is the sole reason half of them even came tonight.”

Hecate’s dark eyes flick heavenward in a half-hearted eye-roll. She’s definitely not in fighting form, Julie realizes. She eases up.

“It’s not easy, is it?” She asks quietly.

The potions mistress blinks. She waits, fingers lightly curling into her palms like question marks.

“Waiting for the condemnation,” Julie clarifies. Hecate’s reaction informs her that she’s hit the nail on the head.

There’s a full, weighted beat. Julie can practically see the calculations running in Hecate’s head, the decision on whether or not to open up.

“I don’t—I’m sure the girls talked to their parents,” Hecate breathes, holding out her hands in a helpless gesture. “And I’m still not entirely certain how much is…public knowledge. I’m not certain I want to know.”

Julie hums in understanding. Still, she adds a dash of honesty, “Hiding away isn’t going to answer that question—and it’s certainly not going stop any rumors that might already be out there.”

Hecate ducks her head, as if she’s been thoroughly chastised. She clips across the room, brushing past Julie to climb the steps, where a cauldron slowly simmers at a student’s station. With a light sniff, she studiously keeps her attention focused on her potion, drawling in her trademark dour tone, “You may not have realized this, Miss Hubble, but I am not particularly renowned for my bravery.”

The self-deprecation is lined with such self-loathing that Julie feels a pang in response. She straightens her shoulders a bit, fully turning to face the woman and setting her hands on her hips, “That’s not true, Hecate Hardbroom, and you damn well know it.”

The force of Julie’s conviction makes Hecate’s entire body snap to attention in shock. The blonde continues, “I think it goes without saying that we didn’t always agree, and yes, perhaps there was a time when I would have thought you an absolute coward, and a cow to boot, but in the end, you proved yourself to both brave and honorable. And it doesn’t even matter if anyone out there knows it—you know it, and that’s what counts.”

Hecate is watching her with wide eyes, so perfectly still that for a brief moment, Julie wonders if she’s somehow been accidentally frozen. Then, finally, she blinks.

Julie takes the silence to continue, “Millie’s told me, you know. About all the times you put yourself in danger to protect the rest of the school. And I saw it for myself that day…”

She trails off, the memory still hurting. How close she came to destroying everything, to hurting her own child, the fear in Millie’s face and the way that Hecate slid in front of her daughter, face so full of knowing and yet accepting her fate, accepting anything that gave Mildred a chance to escape, to survive.

She can’t finish that thought, so she pushes forward, “And I’ve watched you, over the summer. Sorting it all out with Indigo. Trying to undo all the bad that came before—both the parts you were responsible for, and the parts you weren’t. That isn’t easy, Miss Hardbroom. And it certainly isn’t the work of a coward.”

Hecate’s eyes are glistening—this time, when she blinks, tears roll down each cheek, slow and heavy. She doesn’t even try wiping them away.

She wants to say thank you. She wants to argue, to say all the good she’s done is still not enough to make up for what she did before, still too little, too late. She wants to devolve further into her tears. She wants to crawl back into the hardened shell of her outward persona. She wants Julie Hubble to leave. She wants Julie Hubble to stay.

Instead, she simply clears her throat, ducking her head slightly as she pushes her voice to raise above a tear-soaked whisper.

“You should go, Miss Hubble. You’ll miss your first meeting.”

Julie swivels, checks the time on the clock on the wall. Something tugs in her chest, something that can’t leave Hecate like this, looking so small and broken. She turns back to the other woman, who’s watching her with careful eyes and an unreadable mix of emotions playing across her face.

Another beat passes. Then, Miss Hardbroom extends her graceful fingers, wrist turning in a delicate fashion. The door creaks open behind Julie. Somehow this feels like a defeat, Julie thinks. Like this moment of potential connection is completely null and void.

But then Hecate shifts, rising to her full height and giving a small nod toward the open door, “I would hate to deprive two bright young witches of such a formidable guardian on parent’s night.”

Julie makes a mental note to pass along HB’s compliment to the two bright young witches in question. She simply nods in agreement, shifting towards the door.

“And…Miss Hubble?”

She stops, turns back around.

“Your words are far kinder than I deserve—but I do appreciate them, all the same.”

“Well, you know me, Miss Hardbroom, I’m not one to sugar coat things. I say exactly how I feel.”

Now the woman is truly smirking again. “Yes, one could never argue that, Miss Hubble.”

“Julie, please.”

“Julie,” Hecate repeats, softly. With one last small smile, she returns her attention back to her cauldron. Julie makes sure the door is fully closed before heading down the hall.

“Mum!” Mildred rounds the corner, eyes wide. “Where have you been?”

Julie can’t help the grin quirking across her face, “Honestly, love, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

[likesomekindofcheese]

The Knight of Hallow’s Eve (A Knight!Gwylim Lee Oneshot)

Pairing: Knight! Gwylim Lee x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,000 (wahoo)

Get ready for some fluuuffff!

Warnings: A mention of sex feat. a creeper, witches, a bit of violence, mentions of violence, Halloween magic, a DND reference, and good ol’ fashioned Urban Fantasy.

Prompts: #10 - “Nope, I’m not scared. Not at all” and #45:  “I hate the woods…especially at midnight on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?”

A/N: This is my oneshot for @forever-rogue‘s 2019 Halloween Challenge! I wanted to get a little more creative this time around. I hope it’s Halloweeny enough for all of your tastes. I hope you guys all enjoy it! (Also tagging @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, here you go! Knight! Gwilym on the house!)

“I’ll take your dare; I’m heading to the woods,” you said.

Your darer, Carl, smirks with slight disappointment. Alcohol mixed with truth or dare on a Halloween’s night get together made him bold. His leering at you made the chocolates in your stomach flip over.

For your dare, you were given two choices-you had chosen heading to the woods over stripping for him. You’d take anything over that.

Your friend, Erin, runs over to get your arm.

“You can’t! You know that’s where that killer’s been lurking! You’ve seen the news!” she begs. Her black eyeliner is smudged with worried tears.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. I won’t run into any killer. Set a timer.” You suggest.

You know what the alternative is and so does she.

Erin shoves her purple manicured hand into her black corset. From it, she retrieves a necklace with a simple, dark blue stone.

“Here, take this. For protection” she offers.

You accept it. You know she has always been obsessed with the magical, claiming to be a witch (“but…I’m a different witch…it’s complicated, Y/N!”) and you could accept any possible good luck to get through these next ten minutes. Kindness from her was always a blessing itself, superstition or not.

I can handle this you think.

Crickets chirruped quietly. The trees make the air clean along with the crispness of the breeze. You peek back behind you. You see the back-porch lights of Erin’s house and their faint chatter of what truth to give the next sucker in your group.

An owl swoops over your head. You turn around to look for it, but you only see a faint silhouette and hear its wings flutter away.

You turn your head back to the house. The porch lights are gone.

You take ten steps closer to the house. Besides, if you are still in the woods and can still see them, it still counts as being in the woods. Dare accomplished.

There is no house.

You keep walking, trying to convince yourself that you misjudged your steps. Another turn, and there it will be. Progressing slowly, the night is getting darker and the moon is bobbling in its slow line above.

Trees and darkness is all there is.

You tried to remember what the back of the house looked like. A sign. Anything. But your brain has blanked in panic. You keep walking, almost running, trying to see anything in the darkness.

Reaching down into the pocket of your jacket, you feel the necklace. It’s suddenly hot. Surprised, you take it out and to your shock, it’s glowing light blue. Squinting from the darkness, you see a tree a few feet from you has started glowing bright blue too.

Getting closer, it becomes more beautiful and surreal. It’s a tall willow tree with light blue leaves that seem to swirl as they rustle with the wind. Your eyes blink to make sure it’s real. You have never heard of glowing trees anywhere!

You let the amulet rest on your palm. Suddenly, it floats above your hand. You scream a little in surprise. It’s too heavy for the wind. You feel your head spinning.

A bright beam of light blue light, matching that of the leaves of the tree shoots forth until it meets the dark wood- making a large black hole.

“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Clunk!

A form falls through the hole and lands facedown into the leaf-ridden ground. The colors melt from light-blue to a musty red. Though it is night, there is enough light that one might think it was the early evening.

“Are you alright?” you ask, shell shocked.

“I…hope I am” he answers.

He starts to groan and get up. Two things strike you: first, not only is he incredibly tall with dark brown hair and the most astonishingly blue eyes you have ever seen, but even more so his clothes.

He is wearing a full plate of shining armor.

This is nothing like the plastic knight armor you see in costume shops. It thuds with heaviness and its silver sheen makes him bright amongst the redness. There is a bit of rust and dirt, here and there. But the edges and quality you know would make any cosplayer or costume designer drool.

How rich would someone have to be to buy a full plate of armor that good for only one night?

“Who is that?” The man pecks his head up. You step back a little. He’s a handsome man with high cheekbones, soft lips, and eyes the color of the sky.

He starts to pull his arms down to get up. “I…I’m alright, I think. But may I ask, where am I?”

You tell him the name of the city you live in.

He arches his eyebrows. “What kind of kingdom is that? Do you have a ruler?”

You tilt your head.

“No…uhm…we don’t. Look, are you a part of a live Dungeons and Dragons campaign?”

“I have no campaign; other than slaying monsters I’ve been sworn to slay and protecting the innocent. I made a vow to the king of my land after the dragon attack” he says.

He sounds genuine.

“Well…wherever you are, you must be far from home.”

“As a knight, I must go where I am called to. You see, the good witches gave me this…” he begins.

From beneath the breastplate of his armor, he reveals an amulet identical to yours. You stop breathing until you must take in a sharp inhale.

“The good witches of my kingdom tell me that if help is truly needed, then the amulet will lead me there. I am on a quest to fight the black rider. I have asked the amulet where the black rider is-what I must do, and if someone is in need or in danger. And it glowed to this tree…and now I am here.” He confesses. He straightens his back in a bit of pride.

“Well, uh…let’s make this simple. You see…this stuff isn’t normal where I’m from but, I could use some help. My name is Y/N. Y/N L/N.” you inform.

“I am Sir Gwilym of the Lee house, my lady.” He replies, with a short bow. He grins and stands erect as if saying he won a championship.

“I…I guess you could say I’m not…not a real lady” you stutter, gathering what knowledge you gained from Fantasy books and period dramas. Anything to help him.

“I’m just a humble peasant, according to your world.” You add, turning pink.

“Yet every woman, peasant or none, is a lady and deserves protection when needed. And if no one else will protect and assist them, then I must, my lady.” He responds with a shrug.

Smiling toothily, you remind him “I have a name, it’s Y/N.”

“Lady Y/N then!” he finishes raising his arms a little.

The wind picks up speed a little and it feels like a bony finger brushing your necks. Gwil’s armor shivers a little, despite its thickness.

“Lady Y/N, I have been riding and searching for two days. I haven’t rest and ate only grass. Do you know of shelter?” he questions. The dark circles under his eyes and slight weakness in his steps are more obvious.

“Yes. There’s a house somewhere around here…I just have trouble remembering where. I had to go out here and I got lost.” You recall. You start clutching and fiddling with the amulet in your pocket.

“May I accompany you? For your safety?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He takes a branch from the tree full of red and orange leaves. Gwilym notices how your jaw drops a little at the sight of them.

“Trees like these may light our way. They’ve aided me many a time” he explains.

“Ours don’t glow here. They bloom green when it’s warm. And some have flowers. Normal stuff” you explain.

“Ah! That is its own set of magic.”

You walk together for a bit. He lumbers across and you must scurry to keep his pace. His armor clanks a little mixing with the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Walking alone in the dark with a knight as kind (and handsome, you confess silently) as Gwilym you feel your heart pick up the pace. You distract yourself by looking around for a path or sign of the house. There’s still nothing.

“I hate the woods…especially at midnight, on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?” you whine.

“We could find the tree and turn around” Gwilym suggests. He waves the branch in the other direction.

But when you try that strategy, the tree is nowhere to be seen. You begin wandering together hoping for any sign of human life. After a few minutes in silence, curiosity strikes you.

“Sir Gwilym, uhm…why have you been traveling in the woods?” you ask.

Gwilym grits his teeth. “There is a foe I have sworn to defeat. A foe that has been preying on the children and maidens of my kingdom and some say of neighboring ones. He has been spotted in these very woods. I must find him and bring him to justice” he says.

You nod. You admire his profile from the glow of the magic leaves.

“That’s very brave of you.” You laud. You can smell the cold air in your throat.

“Especially…since I have a little niece” he sighed. His face tightened. Did knights normally speak of their loved ones? Were they permitted?

“She is so dear to me. If anything were to happen to her, I would never…” he stopped himself.

He grew pale with fear of what could happen. You give him a hopeful smile, touching his arm feels too bold.

“You’ll find your foe.” You assure to him, looking up into his eyes, softly.

“Your niece will be …”

You are interrupted by a horse whinny and the clutter of hooves.

“Looks like you’re right” Gwilym stammers.

Before you stands a huge knight on a white Clydesdale horse, both in full black armor with faint red stains. Blood and dirt reek from them.

You freeze, unsure what to do. Gwilym leaps in front of you, blocking you, and unleashes a gleaming sword from his hilt. But the Knight’s shield, twice the size of your body, smacks him across the jaw and knocks him to the ground. Gwylim’s sword falls to the side with a clatter.

“Gwilym!” you cry impulsively.

The knight turns his head and looks at you. He lifts his visor to reveal big, yellow eyes like that of a piranha. You rush and grab the sword, aiming the hilt at him and circling around Gwilym.

The knight hops off the horse and approaches you, sword in hand aimed at your heart.

“Be scared, little girl” he booms.

“Nope. I’m not scared. Not at all” you half-lie. Anything to stop your shaking grip.

You charge and stab him in the breast quickly. His frightened horse dashes away. The black rider falls to the grass. Black leaves replace his plates of armor until they drift away into eternity.

You run over and lend Gwilym your hand to help him up. He looks up at you in amazement.

In the distance, you hear your friends calling out your name. You can make out the distant lights of flashlights.

Gwilym breaks the silence saying, “Lady Y/N…thank you.”

He kisses your hand devotedly. His lips were so soft that it was not stopping your adrenaline from the fight.

He asks for the sword and you hand it to him. Gwyilm kneels on one knee. His two large hands holding onto the hilt while the sword digs lightly into the ground. He lowers his head.

“I am ever in your debt…though I am not sure yet how I may return home. But I swear, even after I return, you are ever my lady and should you need me, I will always be in your service” he promises.

[kickdownthewalls]

TOP 20 ROCK/METAL ALBUMS OF 2019

Been looking back at the list I made last year and it is hard to say if 2019 was better or not. I feel like, if nothing else, there were fewer let-downs and more out-of-the blue surprises, so I guess that means it was an improvement. For anyone who says there are no good metal albums coming out these days, I say they just need to dig a little. So many great bands have been forming in recent years and started looking back to the origins of metal before death and black metal ruled the world. Since that was the era I grew up in, it isn’t too surprising that a lot of my choices this year hark back to earlier times. Case in point…

20. BEWITCHER - Under the Witching Cross 

First up is one of many bands to put a modern spin on a retro sound and this one is even from the PNW (Portland). In this case, the most obvious comparison is early Venom. “Hexenkrieg” even has a chorus like “Acid Queen” and a bridge straight outta “1000 Days in Sodom.” Lyrically, Bewitcher may be even more primitive, with lots of references to Satan, goats, and witching of all sorts. Musically, however, they do show some real diversity and skills, mixing up lightning-fast tunes with slower, pounding metal. No sophomore slump here, thank Satan.

19. INCULTER - Fatal Visions

Norway is starting to establish itself as a home for raw and brutal old-school thrash metal, with the likes of Condor, Deathhammer, and Nekromantheon delivering some wildly OTT albums in recent years. Inculter are a bit newer but really impressed with their debut in 2015 and are back with an even more lethal release in 2019. The riffing is relentless, although the band does do a good job of mixing up the tempos throughout. Still, fast thrash with touches of early Sodom and Sepultura is the core of Inculter’s sound and it is the perfect soundtrack for getting out your aggression here at civilization’s end. 

18. MIDNIGHT PRIEST - Aggressive Hauntings

I’ve been following this Portuguese outfit since their debut nearly a decade ago and have seen a solid increase in songwriting and production, along with a solidification of style. Many bands have stolen King Diamond’s sound and style, but Midnight Priest use it as a jumping-off point into a realm of their own. The vocals cover a great range with theatrical lyrics of hauntings, convents, and candles, while the music is firmly in the classic 80s vein with some wildly catchy riffs that remind me as much of Priest and Accept as they do King and Fate. 

17. FATAL CURSE - Breaking the Trance

Hailing from the middle of upstate New York, this power trio has more in common with their NWOBHM-loving brethren across the northern border than they do most US bands. Fortunately, they pull it off with the effortlessness only a group of dyed-in-the-wool fans of the music can. Songs like “Can’t Stop the Thunder” and the title track overflow with pure, punchy energy that reminds me of the heyday of Diamond Head and Jaguar. It’s a short but power-packed debut that bodes well for the band’s future. 

16. BABYMETAL - Metal Galaxy

Although this might seem out of place, I’ve always had a love for electronic dance music and this is the best combination of metal and dance I’ve heard yet. While the first two Babymetal records had a cool sound, they felt kind of samey and it was hard to really remember any of the individual tracks. Not so here. “Da Da Dance” is pure anime energy, while “Shanti Shanti Shanti” incorporates Indian instrumentation and melodies and “Oh! MAJINAI” can only be called a pirate anthem. Even “PA PA YA!!” with its rap bridge totally rocks. Some folks are turned off by ‘manufactured’ bands like this, which I totally get, but I’m more interested in the results and “Metal Galaxy” is a really solid, diverse album that I’ve come back to many times already. 

15. IRON GRIFFIN - Curse of the Sky

Finland is apparently the world’s capitol of metal (most bands per capita) and represents all types well. Iron Griffin is a thoroughly original and enjoyable mix of 70s occult and hard rock, early USPM, and classic epic metal. The production is nice and organic, with each instrument shining through, especially the bass. Vocalist Maija Tiljander can deliver the mellow and screaming parts with equal panache, while all of the instruments are handled by Oskari Räsänen (drummer of the divine Mausoleum Gate). If you enjoyed their EP, this album is 100% better and that is saying something. 

14. VIGILANCE - Enter the Endless Abyss

Haven’t heard too many Slovenian heavy metal bands (Hellcats is the only other one I can think of), but Vigilance is quite impressive in both delivery and originality. Their style is a fairly complex mix of classic, speed, and black metal. The riffing is solid, with plenty of Maiden-esque harmonies to be had, while the vocals are gruff in the vein of Amok-era Sentenced. Every song is a bit of a journey, without being overblown, and it makes for a very satisfying album experience. 

13. TANITH - In Another Time

After being blown away by their performance at Frost & Fire IV, I was very pleased to see Tanith sign with Metal Blade and release a killer debut. Trying to describe the band’s sound is difficult, as they incorporate a lot of different elements. There is a definite 70s vibe and some early prog-rock influences at work, with complex song structures that thankfully never get self-indulgent. The blending of male and female clean vocals is another highlight and both work remarkably well with the melodic riffs. The bass playing is also worth noting, as it winds its way through each song in perfect counterpoint to whatever the guitar happens to be doing. Bonus points for writing a song about the Cassini probe and its journey to Saturn.

12. ATLANTEAN KODEX - The Course of Empire

When I hear the term ‘epic metal,’ this is exactly what comes to mind. It incorporates the most grandiose elements of bands like Manowar, Bathory, and Solstice, but Atlantean Kodex somehow take it to the next level. This isn’t a collection of catchy songs, it is a weighty opus that you need to sit back and let cascade over you. It has been six years since their last record but you can definitely hear the time was well-spent and great care taken to craft each song just so. Although it doesn’t surpass The White Goddess in grandeur, it is close behind. 

11. SUICIDAL ANGELS - Years of Aggression

Greek thrash very much in the vein of the classics from ’88-’90. Solid production, straightforward but great riffing, and a wide range of tempos. There are songs that swing back and forth between fast and slow, some that are mid-tempo throughout, etc. I love that Suicidal Angels sound like they are equally influenced by the Germans and Bay Area thrashers equally, with nods to outliers like Sepultura and Artillery as well. The band tends to sound pretty much the same from album to album, and that is true here as well, but it feels like this is one of the best collection of songs they have put together yet. 

10. POUNDER - Uncivilized

Here is another great US band, this time formed by some death metal merchants looking to do something a bit more traditional. Pounder really do a great job covering all the bases and Uncivilized overflows with catchy riffs and melodies, anthemic choruses, and a great deal of diversity. Speed metal like “Red Hot Leather” is followed by a power ballad in the form of the AOR-tinged “Long Time No Love” and both are excellent. Shades of Rainbow permeate tracks like “The Mists of Time” and “Uncivilized.” Early Pretty Maids is a good reference point for the styles covered and the gruff but melodic vocals. Stellar debut and I’m really hoping the band forges on as I think there a great deal of potential here for even better work. 

9. TOXIKULL - Cursed and Punished

This one almost slipped under my radar but glad I managed to hear it. This is the stunning sophomore release from Portugal’s Toxikull and is prime power/speed metal with searing vocals and some of the best change-ups and most memorable choruses of the year. Imagine Judas Priest’s Painkiller with more modern production and even more adrenaline and you have a pretty good idea of what to expect. Clocking in at just over a half hour, this is a solid album that never disappoints. 

8. DESTRUCTION - Born to Perish

Destruction was never my favorite of the German thrashers but I still enjoyed most of their albums, even if they started to sound pretty much the same shortly after the reunion in 2000. I felt like something was different with this new one, as the opening snare drum assault of the title track got stuck in my head almost immediately. The overall style is still very much modern, thrashy Destruction, but there seems to be a little more melody overall and the songs feel more thought-out and memorable. It is always heartwarming to hear a band releasing one of their strongest albums this far into their career. Now we just need a US tour… 

7. MYSTIK - Mystik

Another release that I nearly missed out on is Mystik, who hail from Sweden and pack a real wallop of melodic speed metal with compelling vocals and strong choruses. The production is that perfect balance between pro and underground and gives the music a really timeless feeling. This is another short album that gets to the point and delivers, song after song. The vocals remind me a bit of early Warlock and Acid, while the music has a darker edge and the two complement each other to a T.

6. ROTTING CHRIST - The Heretics

These Greek pioneers have really walked a wide-ranging path over the years, from raw black metal to polished gothic metal, and on into uncharted realms where those elements and more all come together in sublime fashion. There is a truly epic quality to the songs on The Heretics, even with all of the songs being in the 3-5 minute range. Gruff vocals are juxtaposed with clean backing vocals and chanted choruses, with the music covering equally diverse ground. A work of startling, dark beauty and possibly my favorite Rotting Christ record to date.

5. VULTURE - Ghastly Waves & Battered Graves

This is pure German speed metal, with frantic yet melodic riffs, relentless drums, and piercing vocals. Bands like Ranger and Speedtrap brought the sound back to life a few years back and Vulture really take it to the next level. The aggression and rawness is still intact, with nods to early Exodus, but there is a keen sense of melody and strong songwriting that runs throughout the record. Plus, possibly the best album title of the year.

4. AVATARIUM - The Fire I Long For While

I have always enjoyed Avatarium’s records, this is the first time that it feels like the band has really come into its own and produced a remarkable piece of art in the process. The heavy, doomy riffs are still plentiful, but there is a deeper resonance to the melodies and riffs than ever before. The powerful vocals of Jennie-Ann Smith take the center seat, but the increased use of organ and fuzz-heavy guitars and bass really rounds out the sound. The shift from 100% Leif Edling-penned songs to the majority coming from Smith and guitarist Marcus Jidell also no doubt lends to the more unique character of The Fire I Long For (though I must say that “Epitaph of Heroes” would be right at home on Ancient Dreams). 

3. DEATH ANGEL - Humanicide

As much as I love many bay area thrash bands, I think Death Angel have secured themselves as my all-time favorite. Their first three albums are timeless and the albums since the reunion have been close behind. The worst thing I can say about any of the records is that they are good but maybe not as memorable as the ones before (notably The Evil Divide and Killing Season). Humanicide is probably my favorite since The Art of Dying, with a wide range of styles, memorable choruses, and the artistic blend of rough and polished that Death Angel does so well. 

2. SOILWORK - Verkligheten 

It has been a while since I’ve paid that much attention to Soilwork and now I wonder if I’ve been missing out because this album is a monster. The combination of styles here, from melodic death metal with blastbeats to 80s metal to frantic thrash is intoxicating and executed so perfectly, the album just blows right by. “Full Moon Shoals” exemplifies the range perfectly, with one of the best bridges I’ve heard in ages. It feels like Bjorn’s involvement in the retro-minded Night Flight Orchestra has helped to give Soilwork a broader sound as well as a tighter focus on crafting the songs into something more than just a collection of riffs. Even the bonus Underworld EP is consistently strong, while many bands would just toss their throwaway tracks on such a release. For a band’s 11th album, Verkligheten is not just above average but near the top of the band’s best works, period. 

1. SACRED REICH - Awakening 

Sacred Reich was one of the brightest stars of the late 80s thrash wave, with a strong debut and a timeless follow-up, but, like so many others, they lost their way in the 90s and eventually disbanded. Although it took the band 23 years to finally get their comeback record out, damn, it was totally worth the wait. Everything that I love about Sacred Reich is here: speedy riffs mixed with chugging mosh parts, a hypnotic rhythm section, Phil’s one-of-a-kind vocal assault, and every song a winner. Even “Death Valley,” which I didn’t care much for on first spin, has grown on me with its groovy, stoner vibe. The timing couldn’t be more perfect for Sacred Reich’s heartfelt, socially-conscious lyrics, too, and Awakening is hopefully just that: the dawn of a whole new era for OD and tha Reich! 

There may not have been any big-name releases this year, but the underground came through with a ton of brilliant new releases. Narrowing down my list to 20 was more difficult than ever this year and I’d like to mention several other bands that nearly made the list: ALCEST, ANGEL WITCH, APHRODITE, BARBARIAN, CALYX, CRYPT SERMON, DEMON HEAD, EXCUSE, HAUNT, HELLISH GRAVE, KRYPTOS, LUCIFERA, METAL INQUISITOR, ROCK GODDESS, SANHEDRIN, SCREAMER, SMOULDER, and SPIRIT ADRIFT. Definitely check out any and all of these albums, preferably on Bandcamp where you can also buy them.

With so many smaller and retro-minded bands hitting the scene this year, there were also plenty of demos, EPs and 7” singles. Among the best: BEASTMAKER, CIRITH UNGOL DENIAL OF GOD, GALAXY, HAUNT, MIDNIGHT DICE, MIDNIGHT SPELL, SHADOW WARRIOR, SOLICITOR, SOURCE, THE NIGHT ETERNAL, TYRANN, and VISIGOTH. GALAXY in particular has the potential to really be something special and I can’t wait for their next release.

Will 2020 top this year? Hard to say, but there are plenty of promising releases on the way from SODOM, HELLOWEEN, DELAIN, NIGHTWISH, DARK ANGEL, and LUCIFER. Maybe MEGADETH will surprise us with a worthy comeback, too, you never know. It will be a chaotic year for the world, no doubt, so we are going to need some good, solid metal releases to help us cope. Horns up!

[artsymew]

Hadn’t realized how much I craved Contestshipping content until I started writing it again. Felt compelled enough to write 1k+ on Drew finally getting some new pants -  its a public service at this point. You can also read it (and the previous story for context, though not required) here.

.

.

“You need new pants.”

Drew finishes his espresso, throwing the Sawsbucks cup in a nearby bin. May hungrily takes another bite of her bagel, staring unsatisfyingly at Drew’s pants.

“I suppose you’re right,” Drew picks at the frays lining the tear, frowning. “These were my favorite.”

May’s cringe goes by unnoticed at his statement. He’s handsome; anyone with a pair of working eyes can tell. His elegant and suave contest persona make him a popular coordinator. He’s always a step ahead of her. She sometimes finds these qualities unfair, but looking at those pants…

Arceus must have decided to be fair; he gave Drew a terrible sense of style.

“Let’s go shopping!” she insists, “we got here early, and we were just looking around today.”

“Wait, we?”

“Yeah! What else am I supposed to do while waiting for you?”

“Practice your appeals?” he answers as if it’s obvious. May sighs, he has a point. She should practice with Glaceon given that the warmer weather affects ice-type attacks…but…

She glances at those pants again. Their color reminiscent of her first impression of Drew all those years ago: obnoxious. She never cared much before, dismissing them as an odd Larousse fashion. But all those same years of getting to know him – growing closer - made those once-tolerable pants increasingly noticeable.

As her friend Dawn would likely say: not helping someone in need of fashion advice is a disservice.    

Arceus knows he needs it.

“Our Pokémon just healed up,” she reasons, “I’d rather give them more time to rest before practicing. Plus, I already planned to shop a little later anyways!”

Drew prepares another excuse, but seeing May beaming up at him excitedly doesn’t exactly help in his favor. A few more seconds pass but the fiery determination shining in her big, blue eyes doesn’t dim. Honestly, he should have expected this.

He sighs, defeated.

“I guess having you as a second opinion wouldn’t be the worst that’s happened to me today.”

Drew’s a simple guy when it comes to clothes: he finds something practical; he wears it. It’s simplicity he engages in outside of coordinating, preferring to leave the showing-off to his Pokémon. He’s worn these pants since the beginning of his journey and they’ve lasted, needing to only roll up the cuffs during his growth spurt. He also doesn’t mind their color, thinking it quite nice. Though, he knew he would have to change them eventually.  

Just not to the khaki pants May’s showing him.

“Drew! This shade goes well with your hair color!” she lifts them closer to him eagerly, then another glimmer catches her eye, “oh! those red ones would look great too!”

“Sure, the red ones are nice,” he shrugs as May beams, “if I wanted to look like a Christmas tree.”

Drew stifles a laugh when face morphs into a frown and she huffs away to another rack. It’s the fifth store they’ve gone into. Fifth. He found something at the first one yet May insisted they compare other options. She could probably go on for hours and its already nearing noon. He knew he was going to regret this. Why did he let her come along again?

She’s currently holding a pair of navy-blue pants and staring intently at Drew’s hair when she catches his gaze. She smiles sheepishly, a light blush dusting her cheeks. His heart flutters.

Ah. That’s why. Stupid feelings.

Still, as much as he enjoys spending time with her, his general disinterest for shopping and his exposed knee-cap urge him to wrap this up.  

May practically skips to meet him, another pair of pants in hand. “Any luck finding something?”

Time to be honest with her.

“Look May, I appreciate your help, but I’ll just look for something later.”

He immediately feels like an ass when her expression falls.

“Oh…” she clutches the pants, “I’m sorry Drew. Guess I got carried away. You don’t like doing this kinda stuff, do you?” She tries smiling at him. “I’ll wait while you look for some- “

“Actually,” he interrupts a little desperately, gesturing at the pair she’s holding, “those ones aren’t bad.”

Drew honestly hadn’t paid much attention to the ones she’d been holding. So, here he was in the dressing room much to May’s excitement and his dismay. Unlike his pants these were plain, black cargos. An interesting choice considering her attempts so far to try out “fashionable” statements. Though not something he saw himself picking out, they’re surprisingly comfortable and fit him well. He tucks in the violet shirt he did pick out (that looks very similar to the one he already owns) and exits the stall.

May’s waiting on the bench nearby. She smiles wide when she sees him, rushing up to him.

“Drew!” she gasps, clasping her hands together. Her smile turns a bit smug, “I knew these would suit you!”

Drew’s too taken aback at her enthusiastic response to remark. Contest-Drew would typically brush it off with a flick of his hair and a confident attitude. Normal-Drew, on the other hand, doesn’t know how to handle compliments from May, his rival and the girl he’s been hopelessly in love with for years.

So, he just stands there, eyes wide and blushing and willing himself to snap out of it. Meanwhile, May’s too focused on inspecting his outfit to notice. Her eyes narrow. “Wait, your shirt looks a bit off…”

She steps forward, reaching to undo the top button of his shirt and Drew (if even possible) turns a darker shade of red. She’s too close. Close enough to view how impossibly blue her eyes are through long lashes. Close enough to feel her breath tickle his neck as she fixes his collar. Close enough to smell the sweet perfume she tried on at one of the stores. Close enough to hear her heart beat over his own booming thrum while she gently loosens the tuck on his shirt.

Close enough that, if she allowed him, he could find out the taste of her lips.

“There…” she admires her work, oblivious to the flustered mess she’s rendered her rival in. It’s only when she looks up and notices how red he is – how lovely flecks of jade appear up close in his gorgeous forest eyes - that she realizes what she’s doing.

Now she’s blushing.

“I-I’m so sorry!” she jumps away, arms flailing. “I didn’t mean-- I j-just wanted to fix the button and then saw how the collar was a bit wrinkled and—and---"  

Seeing how she’s out-flustering him, Drew clears his throat to regain his composure. “Don’t worry, I know its hard for you to keep your hands off me.”

She stops rambling and glares at him, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. He finds it both amusing and adorable thinking how she resembles a Cherubi. “You’re so full of it.”

“If by ‘it’ you mean good lucks and a sharp wit, then you’re absolutely right, May”. He flicks his hair, mostly because he knows doing so will further infuriate her. He holds in a chuckle when it does.

“Well, what do you think of them?”

Right, he had yet to opinion on these pants. Pondering, he tugs at the rough fabric, sliding his hands in their large pockets (another plus) before answering. “I didn’t have high expectations,” he smirks when May pouts, “but they’re comfortable. If they have you practically swooning, they probably don’t look bad either.”

“Hey! I’m just glad you like something I picked out,” she crosses her arms defensively. Then she’s looking at her shoes, attempting to hide another blush. “And you do look really good, so…”

He’s convinced.

After paying for the clothes at the register, he wears them out the store. May’s gloating in her success, but he figures he’ll let her be for now. Instead, he holds his old pants in front of him, looking wistful. “Shame I have to part with these though,” May turns to him curiously, “maybe I could turn them into shorts.”

“Please don’t.”

.

[catch22inareddress]

Stolen Choices Chapter Five Staking Claim

Previously:

You were lost in thought and found that your fingers kept touching your lips where he kissed you, his lips still ghosting over them. His lingering taste and feel still burning you deliciously. "What's on your mind, Y/N?" You shook your head and came back to the moment. "Nothing, thank you for getting me ready for tonight. Really not into it, you know." She nodded and waved a theatrical all done for you then plopped down in the closest chair.

"I understand. You ok? I mean with all of this?" You liked Nat, she was real and didn't put up with any shit from anyone. You could take a few notes from her. "Actually better than I thought I would be." She smiled a genuine smile. "Yea, Steve has a way about him." You pinched your brows together, did he do this a lot with women he helped? Were you just another. Nat picked up on your misunderstanding of the exchanged and casually went to clarify. "He doesn't get close to people very often but when he does he's loyal to a fault. He will fight to the death for them and you can feel it all around you. The safety, the friendship, the total love. He and Bucky both will give you they're all. That's why I fell in love with Buck. He's a lot like Steve, just his darker half I suppose." She laughed to herself at an inside joke almost and you couldn't help but smile. The thought of him laying his life down for you left a chill to your bones and settled terribly with you. You were scarred to your core for his well being and you would gladly lay your life down for him if the occasion called for it. You were in over your head for the tall soldier.

"I-I know it's not my place but it's ok to let your guard down with him." Your eyes shot up to hers. Was it that obvious to everyone? Hell, you didn't even know how you felt. What did you feel? "I'm married, Nat. A man like Steve. Honorable and from a different time. He wouldn't want---" She stood up and turned the chair to have you face the mirror. You had simple makeup and with retro waves reminiscent of a vintage era she finally spoke.

"You were given a raw deal sweetheart. You don't deserve the hand you've been dealt and no one, not even God would want a wife to be abused by her husband. You will get out of this." She went to walk out of your room and before she left she turned back one last time. "I've known Steve a long time. He's the most honorable man I know but the one thing I do know is that man will always follow his heart." With that, she left you with your thoughts and the knowledge that tonight would just bring both of you deeper into the rabbit hole.

Steve was ever the gentleman as he walked you into the gala and you almost felt as though he was actually your date vs your detail. In reality, he was neither. You didn't really have a title for him to be honest, nor you to him and that irked you. The thought that he would call you his and press you to his side made you feel safe and your felt desire set alight from within and it was immediately distracting you from the task at hand. You made your way around the room and he knew the big players and played nice and charmed his way in with the wives and surprisingly even the husbands and you instantly knew why they were interested in him, it caused you concern.

Charlie had told you of an underground fight club years ago that the men had favored and you had a thought that with his build and frame he would be invited to attend as a fighter by one of you husbands superiors. It was only a matter of time at this point and Steve wouldn't be given a choice to decline. You needed to forewarn Steve so he wasn't blindsided by the request because you knew it would be very strong if not forced one.

"Dance with me?" His brows pinched together but you weren't sure if it was due to the request or the way your voice sounded at the appeal of it. Unsure and unsteady of yourself and the possibility that he would say no, you felt your hand tremble. "Of course." He took your hand and led you to the floor with a few people sparing glances your way with a few expressive smiles then nothing more.

He put a firm hand on your waist and took your hand in his other large calloused one but intertwined your fingers uncharacteristically. Your other hand found his muscular shoulder and he began the dance so effortlessly that you had to bite the inside of your lip and pray that you weren't blushing. Just when you got a handle on your coloring he leaned in and asked if you were indeed ok.

"I just wanted to get aside to talk to you away from prying ears." He quirked that damn brow of his and you bit your lip and you could've sworn he blushed. "I'm all ears, doll." You nodded but then he gracefully spun you and when you returned he pulled you closer than before. You decided to be blunt because any more time with this man was going to leave you in a fluttering mess before all of the HYRDA high society.

"They have a fight club that's underground and I've noticed that the men seem rather fond of you. I think that they may request that you attend as a competitor." He looked stunned momentarily but quickly recovered as per his fashion. "Understood. What happens if one declines?" You shook your head. "I don't know but I don't its positive. We need to find Charlie. I saw him earlier of to the side exit by the back booths. After this dance, we should go over there." He agreed and just as the song ended and dipped you slightly and smiled. "Couldn't resist. You look like a dame who hasn't been dipped in a while." He said with a chuckle and you smiled back. "I'm a girl who hasn't had many a thing in a while." He nearly tripped at your teasing but then found his footing and remained by your side.

You walked up to a relaxed Charlie and he gave you his lazy smile. "Y/N honey." He dragged out your name and hugged you close to his bulking frame. You inwardly chuckled at even with how large Charlie and Henry were they had nothing on Steve.

"How are you darlin." You shrugged. "Same old. Same old." He frowned looking down at you. "Fraid you'd say that. Anything I can do to help?" The way he said it with such intensity you knew he was the same Charlie as always. He would do anything to help you get out and this was the time that you would actually use it. "Actually yea. I'd like for you to meet Steve. He's trying to help me." Charlies eyes shot to Steve for a moment and narrowed taking in all of him and Steve allowed him to scrutinize everything. He needed his help and anything that would help him get you out of here he would agree to. Even if it meant doing the fight club or taking out the measuring sticks with Charlie if it came to it.

Charlie nodded to Valerie. "Hey, sweetheart. Why don't you go talk to Val? I'll talk to your friend here." You stood there a moment while both men were facing each other and refusing to look at you. After a moment of silence, you knew that you would be of no use and decided to allow them to talk it out. Charlie was just concerned and wanted to get a feel for Steve and you knew the latter could handle the interrogation.

Steve stood firm while Charlie stared him straight in the eyes, unmoveable. He had to give it to the man. While most would be intimidated by Steve with his height and build alone, this guy didn't even blink an eye. He liked him for that and for wanting to protect his gir--fuck. He meant you, for wanting to protect you. "You remember me...Captain?" Steve muttered under his breath a foul expletive knowing any chance he had was blown to bits with just one word. As soon as he called him out with his title he recognized Charlie's face.

"Yea didn't realize it was you." Charlie nodded and took a drink of his amber liquid finally breaking eye contact. "You nearly killed me in that fight." Steve made no apologies. "You were on the wrong team." He looked around. "Still are it would seem." Charlie only nodded in agreement and it slightly shocked Steve. "I would've gotten out for her. Hell, even asked her to run away with me but she wouldn't leave him. Too afraid. I'd die for her to protect her and I think you know it's got nothin' to do with the fuckin' job, yea?" Steve just looked ahead at you laughing at something Valerie said and sighed rubbing his hand over his face feeling so fucked at the moment.

"What makes you so different?" Steve shook his head and looked at Charlie. "Nothin'. She came to me and asked for help to get out. Saw what her hus-Henry, was doing and wants to help and get out. I need to buy her some time, keep her safe while the intel gets processed and the bases get taken down. Capture Henry then get her out. I'd be lyin' though if I said it was just a mission, yea."

Charlie stepped closer and glared into Steve's eyes. "But you'll get her out, safe?" Steves brows pinched together. "I'd risk everything I have and everything I am to get her out. She deserves something better than this than you...me. She deserves a choice." Charlies slammed his drink down and crossed his arms.

"She's already chosen you that much I can tell. What the hell do you need from me?" Steve turned to him and relaxed a bit knowing that Charlie wasn't going to blow his cover, at least not yet. "Everything you can give me to help. Who is Henry? What do I need to know to stay in the game and keep her safe? What's the fight club?" Charlie smirked. "Now you're asking the right questions."

Steve sat in rapt attention as Charlie gave him details that had his fist clenched in white-knuckled balls. He gave Steve the details of your marriage with Henry and his liaisons and his abuse towards you. He told you of HYRDA and the information of what he knew from his little involvement. He told him of the underground fights and that Charlie was apart of them and that when invited you had no choice to decline. You were chosen and that was it.

Steve could easily see the affection that Charlie had for you and still maintained to this day and while it stirred up jealously inside he knew that there was nothing that he could do. You could very well choose to run away with the man when all of this was said and done and all he could do was idly stand by and do nothing. Unless you chose him. Would you even see him as an option?

Almost sensing Steve's thoughts were on you, you came over and laid a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you. Charlie smiled and stood, "I'd ask for a dance but I think Val would kill me. I'd better get on." He leaned over for a small kiss on the cheek and you felt Steve tense under your touch. "I gave him some information and give him my number. You call me if you need me for anything. You know that right?" You silently nodded and then thanked him.

You took Steves hand and then asked him to follow you out on the balcony from all of the meddlesome eyes. You knew a few photos would make their way to Henry and there would be hell to pay come time to check-in. It was apart of the plan though and you needed to trust it. You found that trusting Steve was easier than anything that you had ever done.

You faced out towards the New York view and he faced you and the inside crowd, ever vigilant. He was close enough that you could smell his delicious cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his body. You had the strangest urge to lean into him and you allowed your body that small luxury and closed your eyes a moment. "You okay, doll?" You hummed in response and then shied away but he turned his body to face you to recover the lost space that you had put between you two.

"What were you talking about on the phone the other day about this being your last mission?" He pursed his lips at the question and rose his brow and you realized that you were infatuated with reading his expressions and movements. He was large yet graceful and so kind yet could intimidate the largest of men in any room. You wanted to know anything and everything about him and you were thirsty for the knowledge. You imagined that this would be what it was like to date someone and smirked at the thought that someone as handsome and perfect at Steve would ever willingly date someone like you.

" I, uh- I'm tired. Ever since I can remember I've wanted to be a soldier and since I can remember I've fought for what I've believed and for the greater good. For the little guy, hell even when I was the little guy." He paused and absentmindedly took your hand in his and you shuddered at his warm touch. He was so good at pretending to be interested in you and in love with you that it was hard for even you not to believe in it. "The thing is no matter how many bad guys I take down and battles I fight there's another one at the ready." You traced his hand with your other fingers and he smiled and you looked up into his eyes. "You've saved so many lives though, you've saved the world. You'd just leave all of that?" He sighed and contemplated his next words as his blue orbs searched yours. "I'd leave it all behind to save one life right now." His voice broke at his words and your heart picked up the pace as he looked at your lips.

"Kiss me, please?" He looked conflicted momentarily and you felt rejected and started to pull away. He tsked you and you realized that it would be too obvious and seen by too many people from where you were standing. He swiftly took your hand and led you to the side of the doors and pressed against your frame; putting his hands on either side of your face, caging you in. You were tall enough with your heels and with him leaning that his face was inches from yours. The intensity of his closeness had you breathing hard and both of you were chest to chest. While it felt like hours you knew only seconds had passed with the super soldier and you longed to have his lips on yours.

"You sure, doll? You sure you want this?" You knew what he was asking. It wasn't just a kiss that he was offering and you would take anything that he was willing to give you but he was actually giving you the choice. Any chance that you hadn't fallen for him was gone at that moment. "I need you, Steve. Please?" His resolve broke with your questioning tone. Had you had doubt in his affections over the past days? He would prove it to you any way that he could.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours and it was desperate and needy and everything that you desired poured into it. He left every doubt that pre-serum Steve still had etched within him and resolved to give every bit of confidence he had at that moment to you. He needed you to believe and to know that you were his and that you had claimed him. His hands held your face at first as your mouths explored one another and when you broke away for air his eyes searched yours for any regrets.

"More." Was the only word you could whisper before your hands delved into his long hair and tugged his face closer to you. His hands left your face and one gripped your waist while the other found your thigh and you've instantly lifted it up into his hand as his fingers delved into the flesh. Your free arm grasped his bicep for support as you felt his hard cock against your clothed heat and he moaned. You nearly came undone with that one sound from him and you wanted to please him and hear every different moan he could make. All of this was new to you, these feelings and wants and when you felt him grind against you just right, you moaned in return and shied away.

"Don't you dare, woman. I want to hear every sound you make. I want to know what I do to you. Hear it, feel it, taste it." He said those words in between nips and kisses on your neck and you found more confidence from within that you never knew you had. "What if I only want to hear every sound you make? Feel you and taste you?" He looked back at you with confusion and you only held a devilish smirk on your face.

Your hands reached for his belt and he stilled them and shook his head. "No, doll. I don't want to make--" You laughed at his words and gently silenced him with a kiss. For the first time ever you were turned on and you were on a high that you didn't want to let go of. Steve had the power to erase every time Henry touched you and for that, you had no words. You were in love and it was as simple as that. At this moment, the only thing you wanted was to have him in any way that you could and your heart was beating out of your chest at the excitement of it!

While your kiss distracted him you unfastened his belt and moved your hand beneath his boxers to his impressive cock and he gasped into your mouth and you felt pride. You lowered to your knees in front of him while he braced himself on the brick wall with a look of adoration and slight conflict. Unsure if you truly wanted to but when his cock was freed and you batted your eyelashes up towards him and licked a long stripe up his thick cock any doubt that you wanted this was washed away.

He fought to keep his eyes open as pure bliss washed over when he watched you take in as much at your mouth would allow. One hand took in the rest of his length and girth as the other massaged his balls. You hollowed out your cheeks and went as far back as your gag reflex would allow. Steve moaned and allowed his hand the luxury of holding your hair and gently guiding you. You hummed in delight when he did so and that only made his cock twitch harder in your delicious mouth.

 "Ah fuck, doll. M'not gonna last. M'gonna cum, sweetness." He went to pull out but you gripped his thighs and pulled him deeper and he let out a strangled groaned as hot ribbons of cum shot down your throat and you took it all and milked his cock for all it was worth.

When he was done you tucked him back in his boxers with his chest heaving and buckled his pants up as he gasped for air. When you stood before him he took you into bulking arms and kissed you ardently. "I'm finding that I need you more than air, woman. Please, tell me that I'm not alone in this. Please tell me that you need me as much as I do you." He held your face searching for an answer urgently. "I want you and I need you, Steven." He smiled the most earth-shattering smile. "Then let me get you home so I take care of my girl." He bit his plump lip and took your hand and led you out off of the balcony through the crowd with only one intention.

Making you his.

I really hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it took so long I was on holiday. Feedback is always appreciated! Here is a link to my Tag list: Link . Feel free to add yourself if you’d like!!!

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[pacebone]

found her bio in the depths of my archive and reworked it hehe lots of text below the cut

Your name is SUBRAS CLADEN and you are N SWEEPS OLD. The violet blood that runs through your veins makes you a part of the aristocratic subspecies of SEADWELLERS and grants you all the privileges and honors appertaining, though you personally tend not to pay the hemocaste too much attention. In your experience, MARKS and COUNTERAGENTS can be found on any rung of the bloody ladder, and none are beneath or above your scrutiny and suspicion. Aside from the one you serve blindly, that is.*

You are one of the lucky few to have discovered the identity of your ancestor, and you did so far earlier than most. In fact, not too long after you wandered out of the brooding caverns, you stumbled upon her DESCENDOCKETS, which she had carefully planted FOR YOUR EYES ONLY generations ago. This is because she was the SPYMASTER, and any spymaster worth their mettle thinks MANY STEPS AHEAD. She simply thought thousands of years worth of steps ahead to complete the drop. Whether she was just a genius or the possessor of some PRESCIENT PSYCHIC POWER you’ve personally yet to awaken remains one of her many MYSTERIES.**

You have always followed the teachings of the SPYMASTER’S DESCENDOCKETS to the letter, meeting each of her DEVELOPMENTAL SPYLESTONES to the day, if not earlier. They deal with proficiencies in COMBAT, CODESPEAK, TACITONICS, INTELLIGENCERY, and the SOCIAL MYSTIQUES. As you mature, you find yourself rapidly approaching the end of the DESCENDOCKETS. It’s an accomplishment you anticipate more than anything else. On the first page, she forbid you from reading ahead, and, like all of her other rules, you’ve followed it to the letter. You can only dream of what ULTIMATE SECRETS she might’ve hidden on the last page.*** Her strict training regimen made you stronger and smarter than many of your peers, and you pride yourself on rarely losing BATTLES of both WITS and MIGHT.

That said, you occasionally doubt yourself, feeling as though nothing you’ve achieved is TRULY YOURS. On your darker days, you begin to believe that you owe all of your success to the SPYMASTER rather than your own effort. After all, you’ve never met anyone with an ancestor who acknowledges them like she does, let alone micromanages all of their time. Though the SPYMASTER works you hard, it’s not as though the DESCENDOCKETS have ever demanded the impossible. It’s almost as if she always knew you would have what it takes, a thought which fills you with indomitable motivation on your brighter days.

When you have free time in between SPYLESTONES, you like to indulge in your various hobbies. HIDDEN GADGETRY is an obvious choice for a SPYJOURNEYMAN such as yourself, and you’ve outfitted almost everything in your hive with several other secret functions, most of which AREN’T USEFUL IN THE SLIGHTEST. You can never find PENS THAT ACTUALLY WRITE because you turned all of them into MICROPHONES or GUNS. Predictably, this can result in terrible accidents, but DANGER is your middle name, so you thrive in the hostile, high-octane environment of your own design.

Being that OBSCURITY is your other middle name, you enjoy FICTIONAL MEDIA OF THE CULT VARIETY, and find that the fewer who know it, the more you like it, regardless of its actual merit. Sometimes you even let your LITERARY STREAK run wild and write even more convoluted and abstracted FAN-FICTIONS of these works, sealing them away on SECRETIVE SUBNETWORKS where only the most probing of readers may discover them. Virtually all of these have NO HITS WHATSOEVER, and you think you like it that way.

You are also drawn to FASHION, an interest that you feel is equally obscure, and you tailor all of your own clothes. It may seem counterproductive to stand out by looking absolutely fabulous, but the SPYMASTER often mentions how her peerless beauty was her third-best weapon after her SILENCED PISTOL and IMMENSE ARSENAL OF SECRET BLADES. You take great pride in your appearance and grooming. And of course it goes without saying that all of your outfits include a truly absurd amount of HIDDEN POCKETRY and are stuffed to the seams with HIDDEN GADGETRY.

Like your ancestor, you compulsively compile OVER-DETAILED DOCKETS on basically everything and everyone you encounter. When it comes to your friends, you approach this task as an act of devotion. Sometimes even TWO-DIMENSIONAL DECORATIVE ADHESIVE ORNAMENTS (or, as your aristocratic self like to call them, STICKERS) get involved, but only for the most DARLING of your AGENTS. The breadth of the information that you’ve accumulated also necessitates an interest in DATA MANAGEMENT SYSTEMS, which you play with frequently. This is one of the rare tasks that does not come naturally to you, and sometimes you FUCK YOUR DATASETS UP BEYOND ANY HOPE OF REPAIR and need to call a friend in to help.

*her fuschiablood moirail (read: she's lying to herself and does play into the hemospectrum, something she'd have to recognize and unlearn over the course of whatever story she's in)

**no psychic powers just assumptions about the habits of the species of lusus (sea kraitmom) they share. this would be a disappointing revelation because it just means the spymaster was really really smart

***the last page of the docket says something like "yas you skipped here like i thought you would and learned the REAL first rule of spying: always question authority and see things for yourself!!! so true i knew you had it in you" and if i was writing this she'd conveniently reach the page at the climax of the narrative and it would irreparably fracture her psyche because a) she would feel completely betrayed by the person she trusted her whole life to b) she's forced to assess just how much faith she puts in the other authority figures in her life c) she would have failed to live up to the spymaster's expectations for the first time in her life and she can never fix it this would result in some kind of terrible breakdown where she'd do stuff she would regret probably. then she'd have to deal with whatever repercussions and also restructuring her self-image around something other than her ancestor. idk again not actually writing this

haven't really thought abt classpect probably something hearty? maid maybe

fantroll posting👎

[emsider]

A Sentinel of Shadows update:

So. It is with a somewhat heavy heart (but mostly a relieved one) that I can say my health is on a definite improvement of late. I hope it holds steady, even though I'm waiting for some more test results before I can kinda sorta be a little more confident. Fingers crossed those results end up being nothing.

Which brings me to A SENTINEL OF SHADOWS. I don't think I'll be able to finish it. I was afraid of this for a few months now, but I’ve realized that I really can't bring myself to write long fics anymore. I can do short snippets, a collection of drabbles, oneshots, but long, plotted out works are just too demanding. Quite frankly, I would rather take that time and energy and put it into my original fiction, which I can at least hope to be paid for, rather than fanfic.

I hope that doesn't make me sound too mercenary. There's other reasons why I'll have to shelve ASOS, a lack of precious energy being one of them (I need to heal and mend myself, and long fic writing just isn't conducive to that). But instead of outright abandoning the fic and washing my hands of it, I'm going to tell you all how it was going to go, how it will end, and hope that that makes up for a lack of prose.

I'm sorry to have the update be like this, especially when so many of you have been so tremendously kind, so wonderful, so insightful, so encouraging. You have all helped me so much, and I hate that I cannot give you what you deserve, but I have to think of myself here. Please do not think this is my last foray into Emsider writing. Perish the thought. I adore them and will write for them as long as I have the impulse to do so (and I can't see that changing anytime soon).

Without further ado, the details:

After Emily's arrival at Pandyssia, and the Vicereine's eerie hospitality, she will have the creeping suspicion that something is not Quite Right with the lady Eris. It becomes obvious that Eris has fashioned herself as a copy of Emily's life, down to her appearance, the way she's styled her own royal house, etc. This unhinged attachment to imitation has a deeper purpose, but Emily can't know that yet--all she knows is that it's deeply uncomfortable and she doesn't like it.

Unfortunately for her, Eris senses this, and she leads Emily to the guest chambers--and locks her in there. Now a prisoner, Emily tries in vain to use some of her gifts to escape, only to find that there are several magical defenses already in place around the chamber to prevent her from doing just that--she can, however, use the necklace the Outsider gave her to hear his voice and ask for his help.

The Outsider's voice is distorted and faint (think static on the radio), but what Emily hears isn't exactly comforting: Eris has been raised all her life to respect Dunwall and the Imperial families of the Isles for their might and the reach of their influence. This respect festered into a fascination, and then a flat out obsession: if Eris could become Empress Emily, then she could bring prestige, power, and prosperity to Pandyssia, despite its uncharted wilds and malicious beasties.

This is all well and good, but it doesn't change the fact that (1) Emily is a prisoner, and (2) Eris is now hellbent on becoming Emily at all costs--down to the Outsider's gifts.

When it becomes obvious that the Outsider will not visit Eris, she charges into Emily's room and plans to cut off her hand and stitch it onto her own missing stump. She and Emily fight, Eris snatches the whalebone necklace from Emily's neck, and Emily pushes back until they're both free of the room--and then she unleashes her full power on the Vicereine.

Breaking free, and now in that creepy crawly Shadow form that freaks everyone out in Dishonored 2, Emily runs as far as she can until she slips into a pocket of the Void for safe-keeping. But the Void in Pandyssia is different from the Isles: it's darker, deeper, more fierce.

Now, I had this planned before Death of the Outsider was released, so imagine my surprise to have the final stage of that game be really close to what I imagined. That's not an accusation of theft, btw--I'm not arrogant enough to think anyone from Arkane even knows I write Dishonored fanfic, much less READS it--it's more a comment about minds thinking alike.

While Emily travels this deeper, new darkness in the Void, she finds that she's at the very heart of the Outsider's isle in the Void. She hears whispers, sees snatches of his life, and learns how he was made. Just as she vows in her heart to find a way to free him, the Void drops out from beneath her--and she falls into endless darkness, right back into the Ebonwel, that Things Betwixt place where she reunited with Callista, and met the strange crone, Nadezdha Morev. Callista isn't there, but another familiar face is: Mephista.

Here Emily learns that Eris has the whalebone necklace the Outsider gave her, and with that, used it to complete a glamour that allows Eris to look like Emily. In the time Emily was in the Void and fell through it, Eris has returned to Dunwall in her place, wearing her face--much like Delilah once tried to do. The only way Emily can break the spell and use Eris' own tricks against her is by gaining the power of the Void equal to that of the Outsider--but to do that, she has to learn his name. Learning the name of a god is the sure way to gain that god's power, and command it for yourself.

Emily and Nadezdha hide under the strange cloak the latter gave her, and with it walk through the hidden seams of the Ebonwel, sifting through time and ancient memories. It is here that Emily learns Nadezdha is none other than the Outsider's mother, who abandoned him shortly after he was born because she couldn't take care of him. It is here, in the darkest, deepest, oldest memory that time forgot, that Emily finally learns the Outsider's name: Koschei.

With the power of his name booming in her mind, Emily returns topside to find her court in the middle of a masquerade fete to honor the ties between Pandyssia and Dunwall. Most of the Pandyssian delegate are there, except for Mephista (who never wanted to be a part of this scheme in the first place). Emily, wreathed in Void fog and wisps, marches across the room right up to her impostor, who is wearing both her face and the whalebone necklace. Emily only says one word: Koschei.

And the spell breaks. In a dramatic fashion full of earthquakes and ghastly howls, Eris' glamour falls and fails, and the Outsider is dragged from his place in the Void into the physical realm. When he was made the avatar of the Void, he wasn't given a choice--it was forced onto him unwilling. But he gives Emily a choice now, as he always gives his Marked a choice: she can refuse, and let him fade from memory as the last face of the Void.

She has another option: they share the Void together. The deal is sealed with a dramatic kiss of shadow and whispers, as they lock fingers and seal the deal.

This decision isn’t without consequences. One of Emily's eyes turns pale gray (but she isn't blind--she can see the seams of the world and the Void leaking through), and one of the Outsider's black eyes clears to a vivid, pale brown. They are alive and whole and equal, the Void made flesh.

In the epilogue, Emily sports a jaunty eyepatch (she has dozens of them made, all with different styles and brocades and patterns, and many fashionable people in the Isles emulate her style) to hide her gray eye. She is not so patiently listening to a courtier gush about her crazy masquerade and how dramatic it was. People seem to think it was all a ruse, something done to show that Emily's reign as Empress may be fractured and restless, but it is and will continue to be absolute.

Just then, Corvo arrives from Karnaca, and he's wearing a peculiar look on his face--a mix of a scowl and a smirk. He says he has a friend with him “from Tivia,” someone who wants to pay his respects to the Empress in person. It's the Outsider made human, and he kneels at Emily's feet, kisses her hand, and introduces himself by name for the first time in eons.

"I would know you anywhere," she says to Koschei, urging him to his feet. She's taller than him, but she couldn't care less: he's there, he's alive, and he's beautiful. "Like calls to like, and soul to soul."

They both repeat these words as part of their wedding vows, and so the reign of Emily the Just, Emily the Clever, and Koschei the Beguiled begins, bringing the Isles decades of prosperity and peace. The End.