#holy fucking christ on a cracker

[phatburd]

🧂

[ravenpureforever]

So guess who finally watched JJK

[clandestinegardenias]

getting so many unhinged interactions on that moral theory post people are literally accusing each other of blood libel in the comments

so like NATURALLY i have another one sitting in my drafts...

[ghost-in-the-fog]

Me: *accidentally reblogs something from my other blog and doesn't notice until hours later*

[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[avenging-fandoms]

I have this very specific scenario of being in a car with Pedro driving and making eye-contact from the backseat jn the mirror,,,, like that tension

Could also be with Joel and in his truck

If Pedro was asked by anyone in the world to describe you with just one word, it'd be stubborn.

And there you were, being as stubborn as always in the backseat. You were mad at him because he wouldn’t stop at Starbucks before running errands, when he was the one that woke you up early.

So now you were sitting in the backseat behind him, arms crossed as you stared at the window. "Are you really going to sit back there and pout?" Pedro turned his head towards the left to talk to you, and you just sat back. He chuckled to himself and adjusted his hips, draping his hand over the wheel.

You were really going to sit back there and pout. It was an early morning on Saturday. Saturdays are for sleeping in and getting treats. You got neither.

Pedro cursed the Gods above that he was wrapped around your finger. Pedro typed 'Starbucks' into his map and followed the blue routes. You watch as the scenery changes to not that familiar, not the same route to the grocery store.

You bit back a smile as he turned on his signal to turn into Starbucks. With your head still turned towards the window, you look at Pedro's right shoulder then up to the rear view. His eyebrows were furrowed from the sun, and his eyes shifted towards you.

You could feel your chest tighten. A knife couldn't even cut the tension. He was the first to break, as he had to abide by the law. He pulled into the drive thru and ordered his coffee and yours. He even paid.

Pedro wanted to play games too. He put your drink in the cup holder next to his. So if you wanted it, you had to get next to him. You roll your eyes and unbuckle your seatbelt as he hits a stop sign in an empty road.

You lean forward with your hand behind his head rest, grabbing your coffee and putting it in the cup holder next to you. Before Pedro could take his foot off the break, you lean forward with your right hand on his left cheek, kissing his cheek a few times.

"Thank you, Pedrito" you whisper and he smiles, turning his head to kiss you.

"I've been waiting for this" he hummed and you sat on the center console. "Now can you stop being a pain in the ass and sit next to me?! I need to put my hand on your leg and I can't concentrate without it!" He exclaimed and you laughed, climbing into the passenger's seat and reaching to grab your coffee.

Pedro took this as the perfect opportunity to slap your ass as hard as he could with his left. "Holy fu- Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker" Pedro couldn't stop laughing as you whined while sipping your coffee.

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and I won't do that" you put your coffee in the cup holder and turn your body towards the window. "Hey!" Pedro yelled and grabbed your knee, shaking it as he drove down the road. You laugh and slap his bicep as your plan to fake be mad at him was ruined.

"I will throw your coffee out the window!"

[anxiety-elemental-kay]

Vash's Dual Powers in Trigun Stampede

Or: Christ on a cracker episode eleven really was that fucked up holy shit

Here’s that essay about Stampede Vash’s powers I mentioned a while back. This is another where I yell about Trigun and gender and worry I’m spouting shit that was obvious to everyone, but you’re getting the essay anyway.

Content warnings include discussion of sexual assault, pregnancy, and forced pregnancy. I’ll be talking about episode eleven a lot so. Yeah.

The first time we see Vash manifest his powers is the same time Knives and Conrad do: when he creates a black hole in his arm. We see it absorb the corpses of the people Knives just killed, and we can see from Vash’s panicked expression he has no control over it. Knives then cuts his arm off because his brother just manifested an entire black hole like right there.

(It’s worth noting that the music track for this scene is called ‘Drain Gate’, and another track using Vash’s theme is called ‘Plant of Drain’. In the episode twelve stinger the Pieces of Earth fleet reference using something called a ‘drain gate’, which might be related to FTL travel. I have no conclusions for this point, just that this powers seem to have greater implications than just ‘black hole’ in Stampede.)

So far this is stuff the manga has more or less covered before. Vash’s power specifically was creating black holes. In TriMax we see July and its citizens consumed by a black hole. For Stampede though, Orange gave Vash a secondary power: fertility.

And I do mean fertility and not virility; the capacity to become pregnant versus the capacity to impregnate someone else. At the start of episode eleven, Knives penetrating Vash is pretty obviously phallic. His knives are the literal mechanism by which he seizes control of and violates Vash’s mind and body. On the other hand, when Vash sprouts roots which connect to the other plants in the tank, it doesn’t read as phallic to me.

They look like umbilical cords.

Each root connects to the plants’ stomachs, and aside from a brief red flash this doesn’t appear to cause them any pain or distress, contrary to Vash flailing away from his brother’s blades. We see energy move down the roots from Vash to the plants, and when they unfurl to reveal their pregnancies the roots remain connected at their navels. They look surprised and afraid. Those pregnancies are, almost literally, also his.

For all of Conrad’s technobabble about the plant core and souls and whatever, Vash’s powers seem to boil down to this: he can send things to the higher plane by creating a black hole, and he can take from the plane by manifesting with his, or others’, bodies.

I think this interpretation is reinforced by a series of three shots after Knives says “Happy birthday Vash". The pussy portal opens behind Vash (with a goopy sound effect), we cut to outside the tower to see the purple flowers blooming on the roots, and cut again to inside the tank where the plants unfurl to reveal they’ve become massively pregnant. Portal, flower, pregnancy. It’s all about biological reproduction.

And then Knives goes into the pussy portal and finds an inter dimensional ovum, which he then also penetrates with his blades, explicitly to impregnate all the other plants.

Like.

Studio Orange looked at the Fifth Moon chapter in the original Trigun manga and said “You are like little baby. Watch this.” and then made an episode which made me spend the rest of the day somewhere dark and quiet when I first watched it because holy shit.

(It shouldn’t go unsaid Vash and Knives are canonically trans in Stampede, it’s in the text even if it’s not what Orange was thinking of! Vash is surrounded by yonic imagery and Knives has no dong I don’t know what else to tell you.) (edit: okay so maybe not CANON canon but i'd still argue it's an easy interpretation to make)

There’s always been a dichotomy at the heart of Vash as a character: a desire for peace versus the necessity of violence. A living weapon trying to live and love among humans who constantly reject him. Avoiding hurting others while physically capable of great and terrible destruction.

When Vash regains control he transforms the growths he was forced to make into a MacGuffin that’s easy for the twins to fight over. He transforms what he was forced to create into a bomb, because there didn’t seem to be any other way for him to neutralize the mass. (I assume this because Vash seemed to have immediate and almost perfect control of his powers in episode twelve, and it would be strange for ‘make a bomb’ to be his first choice for dealing with the roots.) Vash has been forced to create something that poses a danger to himself and everyone around him.

Vash was a weapon, even in creating life, from the roots growing to choke all of JuLai, to the pregnant plants, to the nuke cube obliterating the largest human city on the planet.

Forced creation is no different from destruction. Reproduction is not beautiful or honorable when unwilling.

(This is my essay so I’ll allow myself another aside: episode eleven is a good demonstration of why I tend to prefer genre above more realistic stories. Here, like in the manga, we see a metaphorical rape scene stripped of anything that could be (intentionally) titillating, leaving only the victim’s fear and pain. I feel like only in this kind of metaphor can sex be stripped away from assault, and instead put the focus on the emotions of the scene.)

Vash having fertility as a power is (one of many) things that fascinate me about Trigun Stampede. I’m an afab nonbinary person, I’ve always been afraid of getting pregnant, and I’ve never wanted kids. Sexual assault is something I’m deeply afraid of, and I would genuinely rather die than give birth. It’s all tied up in my feelings about my gender and my body and how it’s perceived by others. Vash is pretty much experiencing my literal worst nightmare.

All this circles back to what might be my favorite topic when it comes to analyzing Trigun: how it depicts masculinity.

There’s a lot about masculinity in Trigun that I think is genuinely radical to some degree, and whether it’s something Orange intended to add or if it’s just easier to do a queer interpretation of this version of the story isn’t a question I’m interested in. I’m gonna rub my gay trans little hands all this anime and you can’t stop me!

Stampede doesn’t depict fertility and masculinity as opposites or even incompatible. Vash and his body isn’t made repulsive because he has this power, in fact when he regains control he gets a color change and a sick new hairstyle. Vash possessing this power isn’t depicted as that different from the black hole, it’s just a thing he can do, but here it’s being taken advantage of by his brother. The disgust and horror isn’t from the metaphor of a man becoming pregnant, it’s because he was violated by someone who claims to love him and want to protect him.

For contrast, imagine a similar scene, in which a masculine character is surrounded by feminine/pregnancy imagery, and consider how it would likely be framed in most other mainstream media. Those of you who don’t live under rocks might even think of some examples! Typically in media, men seen anywhere in proximity to femininity are mocked and humiliated.

Vash’s masculinity, his identity, his personhood, are ultimately disconnected from his capacity to reproduce, and by what means his body is or is not capable of making babies. He regained agency because Meryl called out to him, and she called out because he inspired her, and she was inspired because he was out making human connections with people, trying so hard to do the right thing even when he failed. His powers are a part of him, but not what ultimately make Vash truly powerful.

I’m curious to see if/how Studio Orange will continue with this theme going forward. So much of Vash’s character is about contradiction, and in this way they’re making some of those themes even more literal. More contrast-y.

To wrap this up, here’s one more thing I’m curious about: what will become of the Independents who will be born from this? The pregnant plants escaped with Conrad and his flying saucer lab. Assuming any children survive, and considering how much the twins grew in only a year, they could have a role in the future story. What will they be like? How will their origin shape the people they become? How much will Knives control (or fail to control) his children? What will they think of humanity, of Knives, of Vash, of themselves?

[melancholic-pigeon]

Seriously, the number of you falling for this is pathetic and sad and frightening. Do you also believe drag queens are coming to groomify your children?

Israel has the most moral army in the world 😂

The so called ‘peace seekers’.

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

back to reading this book and jesus holy fucking christ on a saltine cracker

[whatacartouchebag]

So holy shit, just had a commenter apologise for getting excited and commenting on a bunch of my fics, thinking they were being annoying for doing it on works that were so old.

My dude, the oldest one was posted just over a YEAR ago.

Like christ on a cracker, wrapping my head around this mentality genuinely hurts. I still get the fleeting, odd comment on stuff that I posted to an FF.net account I abandoned in 2008. I'm still posting stuff to the same fandom that this commenter is reading fics from! I literally posted something within the last month!

I get that the consumerism of fanworks has taken over fandom spaces entirely. I get it, but fuck me if I detest it dearly. If something's not sitting on the front page of a tag, it's just considered dead, and I hate it.

Not to be all old man yells at cloud, but the way being a part of any sort of fandom space means playing a number game from hell these days is honestly the worst feeling. We're not in it for the numbers! We never were! The numbers are the smallest pip of serotonin on our radar compared to actual feedback and comments.

When this person first came into my inbox, and I saw a string of four of five email notifs come in to say I'd received a new comment, my dudes, I CRIED. Teared up like a bitch, because that's something that's so rare and beautiful and I've never seen it happen before. I honestly felt so blessed and warm and fuzzy. The fact this person took the time out of their day to read it and tell me the parts they liked, tell me they passed a couple of these fics onto others, just tell me a solemn thank you for writing what I do...

THAT'S WHAT I WRITE FOR.

No, I don't crave praise. No, it doesn't fill my ego.

It's about putting something out there into the void and hearing an echo finally. It's about standing up on stage and waiting for someone in the audience to make any sort of response other than cough and shuffle out the door. It's about knowing we've hit some sort of emotional response in our readers, because that's the ONLY way we know what we're doing is working. It's the ONLY way we know how to improve.

It just... it makes me so sad to know that we're only ever seen as products these days, not people. I love creating. I love being able to write, but it just hurts so much when it feels like no one else out there cares, you know?

Because that's what fandom culture is these days.

It honestly feels like no one cares, and fans are actively apologising for existing.

Like what the fuck went wrong along the way to nurture this mentality and how do we surgically remove it with a chainsaw.

[creature-wizard]

May I ask how Blavatsky's New Age movement is culturally Christian despite her hating Christianity?

Yup!

So, being culturally Christian isn't about agreeing with Christianity's beliefs. It's about living within and internalizing elements of Christian culture.

For example, many of our swear words/phrases are related to Christianity - EG, hell, damn, Jesus Fucking Christ, Christ on a cracker, etc.

The word "goodbye" derives from "god be with ye." We often say "bless you" after people sneeze, which comes from "God bless you," which again, has Christian origins.

Christmas being a federal holiday is an example of cultural Christianity. And if you're an atheist celebrating Christmas because you see it as being about family, you're still participating in cultural Christianity.

Now of course, none of these things are inherently bad. In fact, most of cultural Christianity isn't bad. Most of it's pretty neutral. Most of it.

Cultural Christianity also shapes our ideas of what religion looks like, how it functions, and what its purpose is. For example, many western antitheists just assume that all religions want to aggressively spread themselves, all claim to have ultimate truth, and threaten nonbelievers with punishment. Meanwhile, many of these atheists go about their atheism the same way many Christians go about Christianity - treating it as something that needs to be far and wide to save the world and usher in the utopia.

And this brings us to our next point - Christianity shapes how many of us expect the future to unfold. Specifically, a lot of us just sort of think that a utopia is just around the corner (or just imagine that as a thing that can happen if we try hard enough) thanks to Christian millennialism.

Blavatsky's concept of a New Age is basically informed by Christian millennialism. Her whole idea that the spiritually unevolved would be wiped out and a new race of spiritually superior people would take over isn't exactly Christian belief, but it's definitely informed by it.

Now some of you might be thinking, "okay, but Blavatsky drew inspiration from many religions." And you'd be right. But the thing is, she looked at and interpreted these other religions from the perspective of one who was culturally Christian. Additionally, she was taking a perennialist approach to religion, which is a thing Christians have been doing since the early days of Christianity, basically trying to claim that proof of Jesus was found in their own spiritual beliefs and religious traditions. Blavatsky, of course, wasn't looking for proof of Jesus, but she was looking for validation of her own beliefs. Hell, like many Christians before her, she even tries to claim Kabbalah validates her beliefs.

Additionally, she values the Christian Bible as a holy text with spiritual truths that she and everyone should be concerned about. Even if she disagrees with more orthodox interpretations, the fact that she thinks this is a book she needs to concern herself with at all is because of her cultural Christianity. She was informed and influenced by Christian modes of occultism and esotericism.

Ultimately, being culturally Christian has nothing to do with whether you embrace or even like Christianity's spiritual doctrines. It's about living in a Christianized society and conforming to any of its Christianity-derived assumptions, mores, and customs, regardless of what they have to do with any official church doctrine.

[byanyan]

SPEECH PATTERNS

complexity of vocabulary : ◼◼◻◻◻ emotion : ◼◼◼◼◼ sentence structure : ◼◼◻◻◻ profanity frequency : ◼◼◼◼◼ creativity : ◼◼◼◼◻ watchfulness : ◼◼◻◻◻

( bold all that apply ) ass. asshole. bastard. bitch. bloody. bugger. bollocks. crap. cunt. dick. frick. fuck. fuckshit. horseshit. motherfucker. piss. prick. screw. shit. shitass. chicken shit. son of a bitch. son of a whore. twat. wanker. ( given proper religious context ) christ on a bike. christ on a cracker. damn. goddamn. godsdamn. hell. holy shit. jesus. jesus christ. jesus, mary and joseph. sweet jesus.

( this or that )

contractions or enunciation? straightforward or cryptic? jargon or toned? complexity or simplicity? finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? formalities or abrasiveness? insult or injury? praise or equivocation? frankness or lies? excessive or minimal hand gestures? name-calling or magnanimity? friendly or blunt nicknames?

( important questions )

do people have a hard time understanding or hearing your character ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never does your character’s point come across easily when they speak ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character initiate conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character be the one to end conversations ? almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never would your character use ‘whom’ in a sentence ? yes / no / only ironically your character wants to make a counterpoint. what word do they use ? but / though / although / however / perhaps / mayhaps how would your character pick up the phone ? hello / hey / hi / yellow / yo / yeah / [name]. / what’s up / who is this / what do you want / can i help you? how does your character end conversations ? walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they’re done here / remain quiet / they don’t how does your character address others ? titles / first names / surnames / full names / nicknames what social class would others assume your character belongs to, hearing them speak ? upper / middle / lower in what ways does the way your character speak stand out to others ? accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

[gin-no-bara]

Ok so I've been finished with He Who Fights with Monsters book 11 for a week or so now (spoilers so don't read past this if you haven't read it) and this is the first time in 11 books that I've been upset. I've enjoyed every other book soooooo much. though sure, I've had some little issues here and there, it's nowhere near perfect. But.. with this book.. genuinely, I'm just.. so sad. I know the pacing was a big issue with a lot of readers and that yeah, the series needed to pick up the pace. But holy fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker. We didn't need to warp speed through what? 15 years or something? In like, less than 20 chapters??? (I didn't actually count them so don't quote me) But STILL FFS. This felt like the end game stuff, like THE SUNDERED THRONE! A BATTLE WITH GREAT ASTRAL BEINGS!! Holy shit! REACHING GOLD RANK! Even a BABY GARY!! But, it took just a few fucking chapters??? I'm so beyond sad because it felt like all we got was the cliff not versions of what happened. Like, the warp speed cliff notes. I've spent hours and hours listening to this series, listening to it over and over again, more times than is probably healthy. And the end of book 11 felt so.. useless ? Idk maybe I'm hormonal or something and I need to relisten to it again. Right now, I feel so let down though, that I don't even want to listen to it again, when normally I'm immediately restarting it. Anyone else out there feel similarly? Because I'm alone in feeling this way in my friend group, which really sucks lol. I need people to be sad with 😭

[psyduc]

holy fucking christ on a cracker ned 💀

[buttercup-art]

this isn’t a real meme i literally just made it instead of writing a full meta on how levi talks + how that might translate into english.  feel free to steal it if you want this is just my way of feigning activity.

COMPLEXITY IN  →

 ��ᵒᶜᵃᵇᵘˡᵃʳʸ : ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻

 ᵉᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿ : ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻    

 ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ : ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻

PROFANITY  →

 (English)

ᶠʳᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜʸ : ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻

 ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᶦᵛᶦᵗʸ : ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻

 ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᶠᵘˡⁿᵉˢˢ : ◼ ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻

(French)

ᶠʳᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜʸ : ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻

 ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᶦᵛᶦᵗʸ : ◼ ◼ ◼ ◻ ◻

 ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᶠᵘˡⁿᵉˢˢ : ◼ ◻ ◻ ◻ ◻

( bold all that apply ) : arse.   ass.   asshole.   bastard.   bitch.   bloody.   bugger.   bollocks.   chicken shit.  crap.   cunt.   dick.   frick.   fuck.   horseshit.   motherfucker.   piss.   prick.   screw.   shit.   shitass.   son of a bitch.   son of a motherless goat.   son of a whore.   twat.   wanker.

( given proper religious context ) :  christ on a bike.   christ on a cracker.   damn.   goddamn.   godsdamn.   hell.   holy shit.   jesus.   jesus christ.   jesus h. christ.   jesus, mary and joseph.   sweet jesus.

THIS OR THAT  →

contractions or enunciation ?   straightforward or cryptic ?   jargon or toned ? complexity or simplicity ?   finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind ?  masculinity, neutrality, or femininity ?   formalities or abrasiveness ?   insult or injury ?  praise or equivocation ?   frankness or lies ?   excessive or minimal hand gestures ?   name calling or magnanimity ?  friendly or blunt nicknames ?

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS  →

do people have a hard time understanding or hearing your character ?   almost always  /  frequently / sometimes  /  rarely  /  never (depends on whether not that person also knows French whenever she uses it)

does your character’s point come across easily when they speak ?   almost always /  frequently  /  sometimes  /  rarely  /  never

would your character initiate conversations ?   almost always  / frequently  /  sometimes /  rarely  /  never

would your character be the one to end conversations ?   almost always  /  frequently /  sometimes  /  rarely  /  never

would your character use ‘whom’ in a sentence ?   yes  / no /  only ironically

your character wants to make a counterpoint. what word do they use ?  but  /  though  /although  /  however  / perhaps  /  mayhaps

how would your character pick up the phone ?   hello   /  hey  /  hi  /  yellow  /  yo  /  yeah  /  [name].  /  what’s up  / who is this  / what do you want

how does your character end conversations ?   walk away  /  ask if that’s everything   / say that that’s everything  /  give a proper goodbye  /   tell their company they’re done here  /  remain quiet  /  they don’t

how does your character address others ?   titles   / first names /  surnames  /  full names  /  nicknames (or insults)

what social class would others assume your character belongs to, hearing them speak ? upper /  middle  /  lower

in what ways does the way your character speak stand out to others ?   accent   / vocabulary  /  tone /  level /  politeness  /  brusqueness  /  it doesn’t

tagging: Anyone who wants to!

Stolen from: @hyperionhugo

[dilatorywriting]

Lilia Monster Mayhem in which Lilia is Silver's eldritch dad and MC is either an (un)fortunate daycare worker, kindergarten teacher, babysitter, or Silver's friend.

Look--even as someone who is in No Way Ready To Take Care of Herself Let Alone A Living Human Child, the maternal instinct in me whenever I imagine little baby Silver about to like, wander over the side of a cliff, or be eaten by a bear in the woods, or eat Lilia's fucking food is like. Off the walls. Always just wanna beat Lilia over the head with a rolled-up magazine and be like 'THIS. IS NOT. HOW YOU PARENT. JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER.' (especially after the shit coming out in the Diasomnia chapters holy FUCK MY DUDE. I AM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN ETHERNET CABLE) This would be such a fun and terribly relatable prompt lol