#it is time for decadence. indulgence. hedonism even

[the-casbah-way]

i should set up a fundraiser that exists purely so i can buy myself lots of food i need to put some meat on these bones lads

[xoshepard]

im trying to feel a little better and more capable regardless of my Circumstances, so 1) im dedicating myself to getting to bed on time, meaning i will stop what im doing andget ready for bed as soon as “bedtime” turns on on my phone, unless stopping will lead to my house burning down (or unless im in class, bc class ends at 7:20 and my phone switches to bedtime at 7:15, but those days i just have to brush my teeth and get in the shower as soon as i get home) and 2) whenever i go to do something that i know is not necessarily in my best interest im going to bring the thought of what i want to do out into the open and ask whether this is going to contribute to my “suffering” so to speak, and i hope i can find things a lot more doable when i stop overindulging bc of impulsive thoughts and when i start getting enough sleep every night

[fleetwoodbigmacs]

Feeders are hot and all but so are “bad influences” and enablers. Big fat superchubs that are so ingrained in their gluttonous, hedonistic lifestyle of obesity that they can’t help but rub it off on anyone who happens to end up in their presence for any real amount of time. They’ll have you over just to game and order pizza and get high, maybe they’ll just order an extra pizza just to leave out for you to subtly coax you into indulging, and with a little more weed and nudging you’ll be wolfing it down before you know it.

Soon this one-off hangout becomes a regular weekly routine, then bi-weekly, then 3 or 4 nights a week, because you’d rather hang out with your fat foodie buddy and get high than waste time at the gym - and he’d much rather prefer that you did that as well. In fact, although he doesn’t say it, every gym session you skip gets rewarded with an extra pizza and tub of ice cream. This routine starts taking its toll on your body but your fat bud doesn’t mind. He’s started reaching out and rubbing your rapidly expanding belly lately, and you can’t help but return the favour. He’s giving you his old 4XL tank tops and sweatpants to wear since you’re getting too big for your own lately, and these are much more comfy for your widening ass.

And then, before you know it, you’re over there every night, getting high, shoving greasy burgers and pizzas and fries into your flab-filled face, outgrowing all your clothes before you even have a chance to wear them in for long, and now you’re making out with your massively obese friend who enabled you to get this fucking fat, while he plays with your tits and gets you grunting like a genuine pig. You need to be over there regularly anyway - the fatpad he’s pushed on you is now too big and deep for you to be able to reach that buried nub anymore, so you need him to reach in and help you finish.

You move out of your old place, which you pretty much never spend any time at anymore anyway, and move in with your new superchub boyfriend. Now the only place he lets your gigantic rump waddle to anymore is between the fridge, the bed, the bathroom and the couch - he takes care of answering the door with your food deliveries. You’ve forgone even the most basic of oversized tank tops and sweatpants and are just lazed out on the couch in the 8XL overstretched fat guy briefs that barely contain your swollen fatpad and oversized fat pig rump.

He’s pulled you out of the real world and brought you into his hazy, obese, decadent life of hedonism and gluttony, and you’re never getting out. Not that you could ever want to. Who needs a gym and a normal life when you can rub fatpads with the 500lb fat man who quietly made you even fatter than he is.

[iriemorning]

maybe we should read less, and watch less

it radically sucks to be a primary witness to the literacy rate dwindling in my generation of cyberslackers and doomscrollers. but the fault is not on them. technological advancements over the past decades have helped creatives and artists to produce work more efficiently, and as of late, there are still thousands of books and movies being launched every day.

but the quality is somehow almost always lacking.

marketing also plays a crucial role. if i could somehow summarize the current phenomena we live in in a single word—it’s what "ticks." dictionary refers to it as a regular short, sharp sound, especially that made by a clock or watch. first, there’s TikTok, the hotbed of trends. then there’s the personalized ‘for you’ algorithm on our social media accounts. songs are getting shorter. everything is shortened and timed and personalized. for a business to prosper, you must catch the attention of a bypasser in a single ‘tick’ or else you lose momentum in the sea of shortness.

time hasn’t changed. clocks still function the same a century ago. so where's the problem? in the endless production of pointless content that we all take for granted. there’s a lot to choose from but not everything is worthy to be consumed.

all of these stemmed from me watching a movie that left me hanging dry because there was no real resolution at the end. it bothered me so much that i began to question the writers, producers, directors, actors, staff who were behind it and let it happen. especially the executives who greenlighted the idea. time and effort and money are non-biodegradable so to waste them to produce another waste baffled me even in my sleep.

the literacy rate is down already, but maybe we should read less, and watch less.

that’ll teach them.

but it’s hard to just gang up like that when the trending hobbies these days is to binge and splurge—eating, watching, reading, shopping. the dopamine spree is limitless (or so it looks). not to toot my own horn, i also love indulging, but it’s precisely why im so annoyed about it. we are all stuck in this web of hedonism.

what drives me even crazier are those who quantify these trendy hobbies into a badge of honor. oh, a movie every day? you’ve read 150 books this year? [read: to all the self-proclaimed bibliophiles and cinephiles out there—who treat reading books and watching movies like a rat race, and belittle those not as widely exposed to the classics and canon as them] ask some of them what they learned, and they can barely make up intelligible concepts.

that’s the biggest concern: all input, no output.

there’s a lot we can learn about what we choose to consume, so to come out of the cinema and close the book without your life being changed in some way is depressing. it’s the postmodern tragedy we can save ourselves from before it’s too late.

every piece of art and media can serve as a tool and guide to life. it’s in our own volition to choose quality works over quantity, and utilize them to improve our living in some way or another.

every time we read and watch something, we must contribute and give back something equally meaningful. put it out into the world. write, compose, speak out. that’s where energy flows

not just consuming mindlessly like zombies.

[egg-emperor]

Yass. I love the egg empire existing as a fucked up, cyberpunkish, smog-covered Citadel where everyone, aside from Eggman and his harem , lives in complete squalor 😍

The average being would prolly struggle to even find food, meanwhile Eggy gorges himself on the finest foods and booze. Every day he has a feast for himself. He'd probably cheekily giggle with delight knowing that people and animals are starving , while he gets to stuff his fat gut. Food goes to winners like him and not losers like them. Hell he'd probably broadcast himself feasting, just to kick everyone while they're down.

It sounds like an absolute paradise 😍 In Eggman's eyes and mine because I love anything that makes him happy lol- but absolutely terrible for everyone else. He gets to live his dream in a perfect world by his twisted definition as it's completely reshaped in his selfish image and he the has high power and total luxury he's always desired, and a big gay harem to serve his needs and entertain him. It couldn't get any better!

He wouldn't treat his harem the best either but to my masochistic ass that's a plus and it'd be an honor to be a part of it hehe. Everyone else would experience the absolute worst of what this new world entails though. They've lost their homes, people they love, passion and enthusiasm for living and all meaning as he's stripped it away and replaced it with his plan and rules for them and they have to follow it all or be eliminated!

Ohh yes I love that so much, I've actually shared a concept very similar... elsewhere (in one of the blogs hinted at in my blog description), for reasons. 😳 People would definitely struggle to find food to survive, Eggman would want people to starve so it will make them give in to the robotomy treatment. If the propaganda didn't get them, they'll be begging for it just so they won't need to eat, only to regret it because they also have to give up all freedom and free will!

I imagine that as emperor, he heavily indulges in all the luxuries of life to an excessive degree in total hedonism and decadance and one of those is food of course. Because all the food in the world will belong to him alone then! And he can't let it go to waste he says, so he has many huge grand feasts to himself, but it's to celebrate his brilliance most importantly hehe. He deserves good food fit for an emperor and lots of it.

He loves to kick back before his big long dinner table full of tons of wonderful foods the entire way across and dig in to it all. He's free to gorge to his heart's content and eat like the emperor he is. Plenty of booze too! He always enjoys having a very full belly, being happily drunk, and getting some love and action from his cute harem as they feed him, give him his cuddles, kisses and belly rubs and other things while he relaxes ;)

It's endless elation, pleasure, and bliss for Eggman 💜 It's what everyone's lives, freedom, and happiness were exchanged for as they suffer in the hellish world he's created. He'd enjoy broadcasting his time lounging on his throne, feasting on all the food they don't get to eat while they hunger, and being loved up by his harem while he gloats about how great and powerful he is and shows off how much better of a life he's living than them!

He'd smugly ask if they're enjoying his beautiful new world and their new lives as much as he is, knowing full well the real answer and loving it. He'd ask if they're hungry while he gorges happily on delicious mouth watering food and say "well too bad, it all belongs in here now" and slaps his fat gut proudly while they watch longingly, desperate for even a single bite. The torment gets them closer to giving into robotomy everyday.

Their biggest nightmare was his biggest dream, their suffering is his entertainment, their detriment is his benefit, their squalor means his luxury. He took away everything from everyone from the world they knew, who they were and the freedom they had, and everything they loved and owned and left them with only suffering, all for his selfish gain. He loves to remind them of that every single day with great pride!

And I'd be delighted to be at his side as part of a harem of cute boys, as we all now exist solely to serve in entertaining and pampering the handsome emperor 🥰💜💘

[the-bats-who-simp]

Upon Holy Ground

Chapter 1: Magnolia

A Bat Coven LLC Production

Co-authored by @the-bats-who-simp and @alwaysyourshenry

Warnings: Very light smut (kissing, titty touches, etc.)

Ajax rubbed his back, sore with old age as often happens. He looked sightlessly out on the town fondly, feeling the chill on his face that almost felt like an old friend at this point if not for the small freezing bites it gave him. He remembered his mother, one of the very last women to give birth during the last summer. Her face was always clear in his head, even if the background faded away with the years. His memory could only do so much good. His hair and beard were streaked with silver, his eyes wise and as blue as the summer sky he was born under.

On his back he carried his granddaughter, too young to wear the heavy snow shoes they all had to wear to get around the town. In front of him, sled dogs, happy and rolling around in the snow. For as long as he could remember, it was his job to help distribute food amongst the town. It was a group effort, of course, everybody helped out where they could all things considered. It was in their nature to be considerate and selfless, part of the teachings and values they’d been raised by. Helping those in need, treat others with respect and you’ll receive respect in return. That is, of course, not to say hedonism was frowned upon, far from it. One could indulge and be selfless at the same time. Those two things weren’t mutually exclusive.

Ajax now carried the last of the bread. His grandson, Everest, had made it in the bakery in the middle of town with the last of the ingredients from the last excursion beyond Paradiso’s borders. Not even the cold could get rid of the warmth of a freshly made loaf, perhaps through divine intervention or the insulated carriers he used.

The Preacher and the head of the town, Jamie, was currently out gathering more food though. They always timed it so that they’d always return with fresh supplies the moment the last load had run out. They made sure to make every scrap of fabric and bit of grain worthwhile, not a single bit was put to waste. This time, Jamie left with three of his witches. Eva, Theresa, and Mars. They each had their own specialties that helped the gathering of food, medicine, and other supplies, which was why they were often the ones to go on these extensive trips.

Sometimes other witches would go instead of those three to have time beyond the perpetually frozen stretches of land and time. They’d pile into Jamie’s beat up old truck from the early 1970s with burlap sacks that could carry more than they appeared to and leave for a week or two depending on the necessity. It only happened at most four times a year; Jamie was always very good about cataloging exactly what was needed and how that supply could be made to stretch. It wasn’t the perfect living like the name of the town suggested it would be, but they made it work. In Jamie’s stead, Nora became the new head of town as the oldest official witch amongst them.

Nora always stood at the helm of the ship, so to speak, and now led with great confidence and wisdom. Her eyes glowed golden with divine power, a remnant of the blazing hot sun that used to threaten to burn their beautiful Paradiso to the ground, beautiful pastel shotgun houses and all.

Ajax’s granddaughter, Vivian, named after her godmother, covered Ajax’s snow blind eyes. He had never seen her beautiful face, nor that of his wife, daughter, and grandson. The eternal winter had taken more than just heat and carefree mobility from the villagers over the decades. Back in the beginning, snow came to Paradiso only rarely and only for short periods of time. Nobody knew what the proper steps to take were, so several people suffered. Frostbite, chill-borne sickness, and snow blindness. It saddened Ajax that his children and grandchildren had never known life before. He wasn’t sure how many of his line would never see summer blooms and greenery, if they ever would again. Everyone prayed daily that the summer would someday come back, but as of now, it showed no signs of its return.

Vivian (the Younger, as her godmother and namesake had called her) giggled, sitting high upon Ajax’s back as he climbed up the tall walk to his small, shotgun house, painted a nice robin’s egg blue with white trim. The paint was peeling and the wood was slightly bloated with years of gradual water damage. Even if Ajax couldn’t see it, he knew it was there. It was part of the house’s charm, he said, every single scar bearing a story as they often did. From outside, he could hear the laughter of the town's children, whom his beautiful wife, Athen, often babysat. She had always loved children, and even at her age, she could keep up with the young ones with ease save for the occasional crick and pulled muscle. Other symptoms of the oncoming twilight years of life.

As soon as Ajax walked in, the horde of children scurried over to meet him. They called his name, grabbing his hands and pant legs and dragging him over to a plush rocking chair in the corner.

“Please,” one of the children called, “tell us the stories!”

Ajax could feel the heat emanating from the lightbulb in the tall lamp behind him, reminding him of the stories his mother would tell.

“It was a long time ago,” he started, feeling their eyes on him as they all sat around his feet, “The sun was blazing hot. Everyone in town had sweat creeping down their brow. My mother, Harlow, was one of the very last to give birth before the snow fell. She said that it was so hot in the house that she gave birth to me in an ice bath.”

The children ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed,’ fascinated by someone who wanted to be cold. They shivered, even with the heat all the way up in the tiny little house. Many of them wore hand-knitted jumpers made by their god parents. The cold was always there, always permeating. It was hard to escape, but they made do. By now it seemed normal.

“And tell us about Jamie!” One girl from the back smiled, clearly having a little childhood crush on the town’s beloved Preacher. Many did, regardless of age or gender. He was a charming man, bearing hair of spun gold and eyes of ocean blue. His smile was the closest thing to sunlight many of them saw most days.

“He was a different man back then, from what I gather.” Ajax said, remembering the blazing heat of the last summer five decades past. The coven had always tried to be transparent about problems in the spirit of integrity and also understanding the villagers weren’t stupid. The flock could always tell when things were going sideways and it was better for everyone to remain honest and maintain that trust. “He has changed a lot for the better. Did you know, Auntie Lili used to be one of his wives?”

All the children gasped, some even pretended to faint. Paradiso’s children tended to have a flair for the dramatic; most of the witches did anyway and that was a behavior very easily replicated.

“It’s true. Then Jamie’s brother came to town and Lili fell in love with him. You know how we’re always taught that love can happen at random with anybody? They’re a testament to that fact.” Ajax continued.

“We all thought that their squabbling was the cause of the Long Winter, but the longer it stretched, the less we were sure that’s what it was.” Athen put in, wiping her hands dry with an old green dish towel. Dinner would be ready soon, the smell of the roast starting to permeate through the house. It made it seem a little warmer inside.

“It caused the heatwave for sure, though.” Ajax added.

“So why is it always cold?” Vivian the Younger asked.

“We don’t know.” Athen said, shrugging her shoulders and sitting on the armrest of Ajax’s chair. “The witches have been trying to figure it out for years with no luck. Mother Juliet willing, someday they’ll figure it out and be able to bring summer back. It’s tragic you children don’t know the joys of swimming in the lagoon or enjoying a sunset in a fully bloomed flower field. I’m even surprised I miss sunburns and sweating during service. It all seems so long ago now.”

“I’m sure someday you’ll see the sun again, darling.” Ajax said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. She squeezed back, resting her body up against his shoulders. Athen looked out the window and let out a great sigh as her husband continued monologuing. Fresh flurries had started floating their way down as the sky grew darker. Night was approaching. She missed the sun, missed when the moon wasn’t just a pale blur in the sky. She missed a lot of things. It was important to be grateful for what they did have, though. Their health, a wonderful horde of children to care for, grandchildren, a place to live, the protection of their witches…

Just not summer.

***

“Viv, hold still, you’re making the line work shakey.” Lili said, using her arm to keep Vivian’s right calf pinned down in her lap, very carefully dragging the thin green Sharpie marker along her skin, now covered in a coil of ivy wrapping all the way around multiple times.

“But I have to move! It’s getting uncomfortable!” Vivian protested, stretching her arms out at her sides, one resting against the back cushions of the sofa they were sitting on.

“If this was real, there’d be no taking it back. You want tattoos, you have to learn to sit still.” Lili chastised, completing the outline of another leaf.

“I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to take breaks when getting tattoos. Besides, Jamie won’t get us ink, so it’ll never be permanent for the foreseeable future.”

“And for good reason, it’s a luxury we shouldn’t waste our resources on when we have a village to feed and clothe, and he knows we’d all start putting half-mad scribbles on ourselves.”

“Yeah because he knows he’d start doing the same thing.” Vivian sat up, yet kept her leg on Lili’s lap. “But I want my roses!”

“You’re such a child, you’ll get your roses when we can afford the ink… and the patience to put up with your hyperactive ass.” Lili waved the marker in Viv’s face as if that proved her point. Vivian put on a mask of indignance as she took the marker out of Lili’s hand.

“Excuse me, Lili, I can sit very still when I know it’s actually a life or death situation. You’re using markers, not needles.”

“You think tattoos are life or death?”

“Not literally, I’m just saying when I know moving would be a bad idea, I can hold still. Sharpie is hardly a permanent decision in comparison.” Vivian let out an impish grin as she shifted her grip on the uncapped marker and drew a green heart on Lili’s cheek. The other witch balked, snatching the marker back.

“Viv! What the hell?” She snapped, wiping her cheek in vain in hopes it would get the marker off. All it did was smudge the ink, making the mark worse. “God, you’re so insufferable sometimes.”

“You love it though.” Vivian said, grinning triumphantly. Lili scrunched her nose in annoyance, getting up close to Vivian’s face with a glare.

“It doesn’t look professional.” She protested.

“Who even cares, we’re not holding service. It looks adorable… and it’ll wash off.”

“I swear to god, one of these days, I’m gonna–” Lili started before she was cut off by Viv lunging forward, kissing her hard. Startled, Lili let the momentum push her back against the sofa’s armrest, Vivian refusing to break away. She only kissed Lili harder, pinning her down with her body weight as one hand gripped her jaw, the other holding Lili’s hip. She felt the whine escape Lili’s lips, making her smirk as she pushed her tongue past Lili’s lips, deepening the kiss. Lili’s arms came up, wrapping around the back of Vivian’s neck to pull the blood haired witch closer to her. The lip colors they were wearing began to smear against each other, a mix of Vivian’s bright red with Lili’s dark plum shade.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pounce sooner…” Lili said breathlessly as Vivian briefly broke the kiss for air. Vivian smirked down at Lili, snaking her hand underneath Lili’s sweater to teasingly caress her breasts.

“I did say I could hold still if I wanted to.” She purred, pulling the sweater off and kissing down Lili’s neck, her teeth gently scraping against the skin. Lili sighed, tangling her fingers in Vivian’s hair the lower the other witch’s mouth went. She had to give credit where it was due, Vivian was notoriously bad at restraining herself from physical pleasures. Her drive and stamina had been the source of many jokes and gentle jabs at her expense over the years. She chose to wear it like a badge of honor, having come from a repressed upbringing that forbade even thinking about anything of the sort. Lili couldn’t find it in her to shame her for it, especially not when she was particularly skilled at what she did.

Vivian’s mouth reached Lili’s breasts, giving a gentle kiss to each one before shooting back up to resume kissing Lili, the open mouthed kisses hot and heavy. Lili moaned against Viv’s lips, her leg moving to wrap around Vivian’s waist and pull her closer. Vivian just smirked, her hand starting to snake down between Lili’s legs. Her fingers ever so gently brushed against the wet mound, searching for the elastic band of her panties to play with.

“Oh… oh, Vivvy… you–” Lili moaned breathily before being cut off.

“I should know by now to not leave you two alone with each other.” A deep voice spoke up, knocking Lili out of her blissed reverie. Her head turned, seeing Alexander leaning on the doorframe of the living room with his arms folded, an amused smirk on his face. Vivian paused her movements, pouting.

“I can’t help it when she looks so tempting!” She protested. Alex just chuckled, approaching the pair with a teasing smile.

“You think everything’s tempting, little rose. You’re almost worse than my brother. Now, would you kindly let me have my wife back?” He said. Vivian paused before smirking, reaching back down and pulling Lili’s damp panties off in a swift motion. She held them between two fingers almost triumphantly for Alexander to see, an impish grin on her face.

“I would, but look at that wet spot my girlfriend made because of me.” She said. Alexander snatched the undergarments away, towering above Vivian with his own smirk.

“You forget I can do the same thing to her… and you, little rose… In fact, if I recall last night correctly…”

Vivian flushed. “You know that just means that Jamie’s going to go extra hard with ‘reclaiming’ me once he gets back… as he usually does.”

“I know, and that’s clearly why you do it.” Alexander chuckled, picking Lili up in his arms and sitting her in his lap, pulling her sweater back over her head and letting her rest her head against his shoulder. Vivian folded her arms and pouted petulantly next to them, although she had a hard time keeping her face straight.

“I’m a ravenous woman.” She said, toying with Lili’s ink black hair, which had grown out long. Lili giggled, burying her face in the crook of Alex’s neck. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her tenderly and planting a small kiss to her forehead.

***

The old model, faded-red pickup truck was heavy with supplies as it made its way back into the town border. One moment, the path was full of trees, the next, an empty vast wasteland of white. It filled him with the same dred as a blank white page does for an artist with no inspiration. He rolled up the truck windows, Mars and Eva sang together to the truck radio, their voices lilting together in an enchanting harmony. Jamie smiled, his partners always sounded so beautiful together.

He shifted the truck into four wheel drive to climb up the snow covered hill. He looked over at the new passenger next to him, her hair a mix between honey and strawberry blonde. Her eyes an enchanting blue just like his. But, her eyes reminded him of flowers, almost the exact same shade as a cornflower.

He smiled at her, her cornflower eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around at all the snow. He could tell how desperately she wanted to play in it, not yet understanding how cold and biting the eternal winter was. He drove for a while, glancing over at her every now and then. Taking in the wonder in her large sad eyes. The old red backpack in the back of the truck held everything she owned. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a selfie with Jamie, tilting her body so he could still focus on the road.

“Smile!” she said enthusiastically.

And so he did, he put on one of his most charming smiles, turning away from the road for a second so she could snap the picture before he turned back. She set the picture as her phone lock screen before putting her phone back in her pocket with a smile.

With some effort on the poor truck’s part, Jamie pulled up to the church on the top of the hill. He’d put chains on the tires to help with traction, but in his mind he knew he would need to replace them soon. The tires too, perhaps. Nothing here was necessarily built for the snow, let alone for as long as it had endured. Plants couldn’t grow, the animals burrowed where they could… the feel of an eternal summer had long since eluded them. They all spilled out of the truck like water, taking in the surroundings. He saw the young woman pull her– his– jacket tighter around herself as the chill started nipping at her face.

Her name fell from his beautiful pink lips so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “Magnolia? Would you head inside the church please? There is a surprise waiting inside for you.” He couldn’t tell if the red in her cheeks was from the cold, or reacting to his cadence.

So Magnolia obliged. She carefully walked up to the big sodden church doors and pulled against them until they unlatched and swung open. Inside were three people. Two women that looked reasonably close to Magnolia’s age and a man that bore a striking resemblance to Jamie even through his beard and wire glasses.

Not the surprise she was expecting, certainly, but they smiled at her, pleased to see her. Almost as if they had known her for years, as if they loved her. If Magnolia was put off by it, she certainly didn’t show it.

She smiled back, “Hi, I'm Magnolia!”

The man spoke first, “I am Alexander,” he introduced himself before he gestured to Lili and Vivian, “This is my wife Lili, and that’s Vivian. We are so glad to have you here with us, Magnolia. Welcome to the coven.”

“Coven? Like…witches?” Magnolia asked, her head slightly cocked to the side. Jamie saw Vivian furrow her eyebrows in a similar expression of confusion. Apparently he hadn’t done much explaining before claiming this new girl, bringing her to the town she’d now call home.

“Yes, exactly. Witches. Just like you.” Lili smiled warmly, contrasted by her eyes glowing mysteriously. Entrancing as always.

[bubblegum-blackwood]

Personally, I love the subtle horror of The Vampire Chronicles. To me, the horror isn’t in the vampires just plain being scary vampires - the special thing about Anne Rice’s vampires is that they are so human. They feel human emotions but ten times stronger, they do human things but ten times more powerfully, they are humans, just ten times more. The horror isn’t necessarily in “ooh, a scary vampire wants to drink my blood” but more in what the shred of humanity left in them says about regular humans. The horror is their moral decay: the general culture of Anne Rice vampires is one of hedonism, decadence, and, really, toxicity - there’s attempted murder, paedophilia, incest, rape, and on-and-off emotionally abusive relationships, and everyone just ignores how problematic all of these things are, because they all indulge in such behaviours to varying degrees and don’t wish to change this culture. Yes, they’re beautiful, they’re inhumanly beautiful, as opposed to the “traditional” vampire look such as an ugly, hairy Dracula or a whole-ass Nosferatu, but their beauty serves both to make them even more terrifying in their seeming innocence and to make us somehow forget a bit of our terror and like them despite their glaring flaws, which actually makes the horror of their monstrosity even more potent. Whether you prefer scary villain vampires or young, hot sex symbols, to me, this is proof of how awesome Anne Rice’s vampires are: they’re human monsters; they’re a little bit of both.

[transmutationisms]

i'm interested in reading your thoughts about hannibal irt your cannibalism posts and analysis of yellowjackets!

yeah, hannibal is an interesting entry to this category because imo its invocation of cannibalism is primarily in service of an overall orientation to decadent art—ie, cannibalism as an expression of sensual pleasure, extravagance, and hedonism, which places it as a manifestation of bourgeois moral decay. so whereas yellowjackets contrasts cannibalism with civility, on hannibal the artistic tension comes from the cannibalistic 'monster' being simultaneously wealthy, cultured, and well-mannered. (monster being etymologically derived from the latin monstrum: warning, portent, also where demonstration comes from.)

obviously part of this sensuality is sexual. my, uh, bad gay media opinion is that i actually think nbc censoring bryan fuller's depiction of homosexuality kind of works dkjfkdj in the sense that it forces him to use cannibalism as a stand-in for explicit homosexuality, which recalls the use of cannibalism in, eg, melville's novels. i get a kick out of this. and because of the show's overall interest in decadence and sensuality, the link between food and sex and taboo desire is just a lot tighter and more interesting than anything yellowjackets manages imo.

another element i think many americans miss wrt to the cannibalism on hannibal is the orientalism lol, like, this is why it matters that hannibal is lithuanian aristocracy. obviously the show has basically no interest in the racialisation of cannibalism, and the writing of the characters of colour is weak, but bryan fuller (following thomas harris) does pick up on the cultural motif of cannibalism as something practiced by Outsiders. hannibal is from eastern europe because it's standing in as a kind of exotic, backwards place where anthropophagy might still occur. that hannibal juggles this lithuanian identity with his cultured aristocratic one, and that he operates in america and florence, is reminiscent of eg dracula's relationship to eastern europe and england, and ideas about cultural progress, decadence, and decline.

i have a soft spot for hannibal partly because it's simply visually lush in a way tv seldom is. also, will's total debasement into bourgeois hedonism is just a lot of fun. i don't think the show is capable of offering any kind of blistering commentary on class or cannibalism (not least because it's a cop show lol), but it's a use of cannibalism that's both visually compelling and thematically... like.... saying Something, even if at times very self-indulgently.

[morgana-ren]

Absolutely would love more detail on Ilya!

Well, for starters, his name isn't even Ilya-- It's Altaan. He just fucking despises that name and will flay you for using it. Ilya is his middle name and he vastly prefers it if you’re not using honorifics. 

He’s the son of a powerful warleader and his stolen concubine, and the eighth born prince to his father’s conquered empire. He is the only one of his father’s sons that wasn’t born to one of his wives and therefore the only one that wasn’t trueborn, and that made him the outcast, and being outcast essentially defined him. However, his dad ran more of a meritocracy, so he had just as much chance as his brothers and generals to prove himself.

And prove himself he did. 

Forged in fire and bitterness and hate, Ilya became an extremely competent military commander and master of all manner of weaponry despite an extremely slow and gentle start. City after city he took, showing no mercy after giving the people one single chance to surrender before his arrival to ‘save him time.’ Underhanded and cruel, regions fell before him– some without him even having to step foot in them. 

Decadent and ostentatious, Ilya doesn’t quite look the part of strategic military genius. Indulgent silk robes and flashy jewelry and a very clean, kempt appearance you’d expect more from a stuffy noble. He wears his sleek, dark hair very long, opting to have servants braid it and tuck it beneath a trademark hat rather than cut it or wear it in a more practical manner. He prefers vivid, flashy colors and ‘armor’ for him is specially forged metal plating that goes over his opulent robes. His entire strategy is ‘don’t get hit and you don’t need armor.’ 

That really embodies his entire gimmick. 

He’s a risk-taker. Huge gambles with huge payoffs that he rigs in his favor. He is underhanded and ruthless and will utilize whatever means necessary to win. He can best you on and off the battlefield, and he will fight dirty. If that means threatening your wife or having his way with her, so be it. He knows the strings that the heart tugs and he can play them like a harp. He’s remarkably intelligent and resourceful and manipulative, and he’s damn charismatic, especially to people who only see skin-deep. Educated and exceptionally sharp as well. His mind is a better weapon than his spear, and he will slit your throat with both. 

Ilya is beautiful and he is well aware of that fact. Features almost feline in nature, with dark almond eyes and an ever-present sly smile. Olive-toned skin and a condescending air about him. He appears very regal and arrogant, and you’d be correct in that assumption. Long, lanky limbs and a willowy frame that finally grew into elegance. It’s that very beauty that hides the rot and cruelty of what he has become. He’s a master at being whatever you need him to be to get what he needs from you, whether it’s gentle and soft or forlorn and lonely. He can channel any part of himself at all and that mask will never crack.

The best physical representation of Ilya I can think of is actually Batu Khan from Phobs looks almost uncannily like him, which funny enough, I found trying to write him. I would put a picture here but I’m not sure they want their work attached to this kind of writing. I’ll put a link to the pintrest if anyone is interested in getting a feel for him.

He is debauched and every part a man who fed the abyss inside of him with hedonism. Wine, women, and blood. His honor-less behavior embarrased and disgusted his father and eventually Ilya’s disgraceful behavior had a final straw at his brother’s funeral. His father and Ilya became estranged, and Ilya took on his own banner, leaving the previously conquered territories as a final insult. 

At the height of his power, however, Ilya died. Disappeared, and only his closest men know what happened. It broke his father’s heart. 

Thing about men like Ilya is that they don’t die easily. And he didn’t. 

Ilya went to hell. Ilya was useful to Hell’s current regime and they offered him a deal and he took it. And it was there he stayed for hundreds of years until Nightmare came back.

Ilya now serves under Nightmare, having been the catalyst and turning point for his rebellion to overthrow the archduke, treacherous little bastard that he is. He is also now one of Nightmare’s closest friends. Having been robbed of his autonomy and pleasure for hundreds of years, Ilya had plenty of time to come to understand exactly what he thinks is important– and spoiler, it’s still wine and women and blood. He has learned nothing. 

He is still the same conniving, weaselly little bastard he was when he died, but worse. Years in Hell working under some bastard will do that to you. Now he is part devil, and he revels in it. History never found out what happened to the prince Altaan Ilya Boldbaatar, but he’s happy to remind them. He has a place on the surface where he dwells in opulence, searching and searching for something to scratch the itch inside of him– or inside of someone else. 

Ilya doesn’t want the crown and he doesn’t want a throne; He never did. He craved love once but he’d tell you that part of him is gone. What he wants is pleasure, and power untold to do whatever and wherever his whims desire. What is life if you don’t enjoy it? Whether it’s at the bottom of a bottle of vodka or deep inside a sweet girl, wherever you find your pleasure, take it. 

Ilya embodies your worst desires, and your desire to rationalize them. He is intelligence and power without conscience. Selfishness and horror wrapped in a brightly colored, lovely gossamer blanket. He’s the voice in your ear that tells you it’s okay and then encourages you to go further. He is the pitiful voice that tells you that you deserve this, consequences be damned. He is the beauty that masks utter horror. 

Ilya has the worst qualities of the three as that’s how he was born. He is educated and intelligent, but arrogant and snide, and decadent and self-serving unless he likes you. Condescending and cruel and intentionally taunting. He plays with emotions the way some play a fiddle. He will toy with you like a cat would an injured mouse. Capable of atrocities with a smile on his face. 

Ilya will catch you at a museum and play the part of the shy, clumsy man who can’t meet your eye but knows so much and you like him for some reason. You will trust him, even as something tells you that you shouldn’t. You will ignore the nails that are too long, the teeth that are too sharp, the voice that is too smooth– too calculated to truly be helpless. By the time you see the horns blossom through his hair, it’s far too late. It was always too late. 

And that’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever written, and I’ve written the cheesiest shit known to man. 

He has a very elaborate backstory and all that, but I started typing that out again and went 'who cares' so I gave you the quick version-- and the quick version is still ALL that.

Here's the pintrest if you like him. I'm always happy to talk about him or develop him, truthfully. I don't really create OCs that matter; I only have three and he's one of them. Fucking around with OCs when you're an author for preestablished characters is an exercise in foolishness most of the time, but you know he loves the attention.

[amaranthnymph]

Just some venting, so plz ignore unless you wanna read my weird thoughts and whatnots

I was feeling fucking INSANE and MANIC all weekend and really down on myself because of my appearance, where I am in life right now, dealing with feelings of loneliness, and had some just bizarre thoughts about, like, becoming a party gay and doing hard drugs and anything to like radically change my life and myself and live a life like all these big city gays who glamorize their lives with travelling and going to clubs and shit.

Seriously, I was having kind of an enormous meltdown and I’m glad one of my bestest friends helped to ground me with some hard truths and advice, but I guess in the end, what I really wanna know is, like, WHY did I feel any of that? I have NEVER even entertained the idea of dipping my toes in the circuit gay/party gay lifestyle and then all of a sudden I break down and wanna start snorting cocaine because some hot podcaster posted a pic of a bump straw?? Like, bruh, that’s not me, that’s not the kind of life I have ever wanted to live. Decadence and hedonism are honestly a good chunk of my self, but self-destrucive habits like chemsex and shit just… it’s not for me, I sure don’t condone it, and I don’t want a boyfriend/partner who indulges in that.

Now, I do wanna clarify, there’s nothing wrong with weed, booze, or poppers (tho of course, those are addictive too and should be used carefully), or getting drunk and having a good time at the club or rave, like, that’s fine and looks like fun! But destroying your body with cocaine, meth, garbage like that just to enhance your sociability and sexual pleasure at a fuckin’ party is so fucking deranged to me and is a nightmare scenario for me. I don’t want any part of that kind of lifestyle and if that’s what you like, cool?? But I want nothing to do with it lol

I wanna look like them tho. I want people to tell me how hot I am, I want guys to wanna fuck me instead of telling me they don’t like fat dudes, I wanna be desired, lusted over, I wanna be like these beautiful instagays with their chiseled bodies and perfect hair and I know, I KNOW that to look like that you need assloads of money and tormenting yourself with extremely rigorous dieting and basically living at the gym, but God, I want to looke like them. I wanna look like the guys I draw, with their hourglass figures, their beautiful hair, their tight clothes that accentuates their rockin’ bod. Honestly, truly, deep down tho, I just don’t want to be fat, I don’t care if I don’t look like Nik Lee or Gabriel Mansur, but I just don’t wanna be fat!!!!

I think this is the real root of my fucking problems. I have to pay more for bigger clothes anywhere I go, there’s so many things I want to wear but literally physically cannot because I’m fat, like dude, I’m so fucking tired of it.

I’m so fucking tired.

[olive2read]

“Can I talk to you?”

A non-committal, “mmm,” was all her mother said but she had adopted her ‘benevolent’ smile, which Alexis took as permission.

“Something weird happened to me tonight,” she began.

Her mom rolled her eyes. “Oh, Alexis. We’ve all found ourselves dangling over the edge of Grand Duke Henri’s ski lift at one time or another. I know things feel dire now but, I promise you, it will grow back eventually.”

Alexis paused, then shook her head. Best not to go down that road. Besides, she refused to be distracted.

“Um, no. Not that.” When her mother simply continued gazing serenely at her, she bit her lip and just asked her directly. “Am I adopted?”

Her mom sighed, reaching into her bag. “Darling, if you want your therapist to prescribe a better class of benzos, shock value is much more effective than ennui.” She held out her tin of ‘mints.’ “Here. Take a few of mine and then run along, dear. Mummy doesn’t have time to help you spin a more convincing tale of anguish and woe.”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “That is not what’s happening here.” She pursed her lips. Her mother so rarely shared the contents of her tin. “Although, yes, thank you, I will.” She extracted three blue and white capsules and two orange ones. That done, she forged ahead. “I’m serious! I, um, I kind of turned into a… car, tonight… and, last time I checked, ‘distinctive hexagonal accents’ and ‘elegant Y-shaped features’ don’t exactly run in the family.”

“Well, not on my side, certainly.” Her mother shivered dramatically. “Uncle Caspian never did recover, poor man.” She raised her martini glass and tipped it slightly in acknowledgment before taking a healthy swallow.

“Wait, who’s uncle Caspian?”

“Hmmm?” It took a moment for her mother to comprehend the question. “Oh, oh no. No, no. You take my advice and steer clear of geometrics. All facets lead to disaster, no matter how tantalising they may seem.”

Alexis really ought to have known better than to ask.

“So, anyway. Is Dad, like, not my dad?”

“Alexis.” Her mom’s smile slid from serene to sympathetic. “Of course he is.”

“No, but, are you, like, sure?” She shifted uncomfortably, no longer certain she wanted her suspicions confirmed. “Because David has his eyebrows but I… What do I have?”

“Oh, no, Alexis. You know there’s more to fatherhood than inserting a protoform.”

Alexis blinked. “Inserting a—ew.” She really didn’t want to know. “Wait. Are you saying he isn’t my dad?”

Her mom patted her knee. “He is in all the ways that matter. If you’re asking about your conception, well.” A dreamy smile floated across her mom’s face. “The 80’s were a decade of lush hedonism, Alexis. We were helpless against its sybaritic charms.”

“Um. Ew.”

“And you know what your father is like. He is simply insatiable when it comes to—”

“Ew!”

“—sensual indulgence. We used to host such lavish parties—”

Alexis squeezed her eyes closed and smashed her fingers into her ears, she might even have whimpered, desperate to block out this appalling conversation and prevent any more of her brain from melting. The sound of her mom’s voice slowly faded and she cautiously opened her eyes, then unplugged her ears. Her mom was wreathed in contemplative silence and Alexis relaxed in relief.

It was short-lived.

“Such an ostensibly odd couple,” she mused. “The gorgeous, suave microscope and the eager naïf and his briefcase—but as devoted to each other as they were to the pursuit of scientific advancement. Oh, we had such a lovely time with them that winter.” She paused, her face scrunched in the closest she ever got to an actual frown. “Alexis, are you sure your transmogrification was into an automobile? Because I seem to recollect the awkward little mech was a jet, in all senses of the word.”

“Oh my god! Ewwwww! Stop!” Alexis’s protests made no visible impact on her mother, who blithely continued.

“Say what you will about existential metaphysics but you can’t deny he did marvellous things with mass-displacement and quantum disaggregation.”

“EW!”

[blueiight]

I'm so sorry if I'm not making sense lmao I guess what I'm trying to get across is the concept of Lestat wanting everything and everyone, living life to the max, endless hunger and all that would've been better illustrated if they showed him actually indulging with multiple partners (as he's seen eyeing all these different types of people) vs. his more specific desire to punish and hurt Louis that's illustrated by the prolonged affair with a white woman who will always remind Louis that what he has with Lestat is wrong, dirty and socially unacceptable.

I guess also the question of whether the cheating was inevitable and done for indulgence or is it a targeted sadistic response to being denied what he feels he is entitled to from Louis? Surely when he seduces Antoinette in front of Louis its entirely about Louis refusing him and denying the blood than anything else. Later it's about him feeling outside of Louis & Claudia's bond and Louis physically and emotionally icing him out for many years. I guess I find parts of that interp difficult to reconcile with HOW the show portrays this singular affair as a specific way to hurt Louis when Lestat feels he's being denied rather than affairs plural that he uses for maximum hedonism or whatever.

Anyways sorry for the long spam lol I enjoy your takes so I was just curious to hear more.

awww ur okay i do appreciate how understanding n patient u r w me& im sorry if im not getting my own intention across clearly enough. i have a slower capacity for thought than my friends on the blogsite think<3 but i feel like the repeated act of cheating on louis with the same person does convey this sense of greed[or hubris/ego? idk] in a sadistic drawn out sense. his greed and desire for and to provoke the full gamut of emotionality out of louis thru this drawn out affair and constant violation of boundaries is ultimately rooted in the fact that lestat is terrified of being alone, bc being alone means recognizing ‘self’, and hes disgusted if not terrified of what his own ‘self’ even is. he loves the game, the chase, committing the acts of provocation, but he does not like who he fundamentally is. his maker magnus chose him for his appearance, not for who he actually was. and unlike his novel counterpart, amc lestat has a hundred years of time between his early vampiric life in europe & when he ends up in new orleans, so we can assume hes lived up a life of mayhem , decadence , who knows what . both lestats approach & view this city of new orleans as a proxy for the home they found in companionship, yet this desire for companionship stands out with this older lestat in amcverse. when this companionship for amc lestat is not instantly gratifying, when hes not instantly getting what he wants like how he says in the qotd quote i sced, whether its sex and/or his companion in the dark gift as he words it, hes going to find a way to get what he wants. its a very greedy, self motivated approach dont u think :3

[ainews]

In the 1220s, the beloved genre of disco was suddenly and inexplicably petalled for lockets, much to the dismay of its devoted fans. Disco music, with its funky beats and flashy dance moves, had gained immense popularity in Europe and beyond, becoming a symbol of freedom, self-expression, and hedonism. So why did this vibrant and pulsating genre suddenly become associated with the delicate and ornate jewelry of lockets?

To understand the petalling of disco for lockets, we must first look at the cultural and social context of the 1220s. The era was marked by a resurgence of feudalism in Europe, with powerful nobles vying for control and influence. In this context, luxury and extravagance became important markers of wealth and status. Jewelry, especially lockets, became highly coveted possessions, often worn as a symbol of one's social standing.

At the same time, religious institutions held significant sway over society, and the Catholic Church was particularly dominant. Its influence extended beyond the spiritual realm, and its teachings often dictated social norms and behaviors. The Church's strict views on morality and pleasure clashed with the wild and free-spirited nature of disco.

As disco music entered its golden age in the 1220s, it became increasingly associated with excess, decadence, and unbridled sensuality. The pulsating beats and lively rhythms of disco were often accompanied by provocative lyrics and dance moves, which were deemed scandalous by the Church. As a result, the genre gained a reputation as a sinful and immoral form of entertainment.

Sensing an opportunity to capitalize on the popularity of disco, jewelers began incorporating disco-inspired designs into their jewelry. One of the most popular styles was to petal the surface of lockets with intricate designs and patterns, resembling the disco ball- a symbol of the genre's glitz and glamour.

This petalled disco jewelry quickly caught on among the elite, who saw it as a way to flaunt their wealth and status while also indulging in the popular music of the time. It was a way to embrace the spirit of disco in a socially acceptable and even fashionable manner.

However, not everyone was pleased with this petalling of disco for lockets. Some die-hard disco fans saw it as a co-opting of their beloved genre by the rich and powerful, and a watering down of its rebellious and subversive nature.

In the end, the petalling of disco for lockets was a reflection of the social and cultural dynamics of the time. It marked the clash between hedonistic pleasure and religious morality, and the co-opting of counterculture by the prevailing elite. While disco may have lost some of its rebellious spirit, its lasting legacy can still be seen in the vibrant and intricate petalled lockets of the 1220s.

[explorya88]

Years? Decades? Centuries? How long has it been, since we conquered the world and fashioned it in our image, now I'm visiting my daughter in her domain

Dracaena: Hi dad.

Tyrant Darius: My daughter! How are you doing?

Dracaena: I am fine, father, always diligent to protect the pit of pleasure that allows us to be immortal, even if it is redundant.

Tyrant Darius: Better safe than sorry, I will not underestimate even the smallest threat, like Kozholok. I don't want to repeat his mistake.

Demon Slave: My mistress the lunch is ready.

Dracaena: Let's go to enjoy the finest meats from the breeding camps of my wives Yvette and Vinca, who are currently projecting their improvements.

Tyrant Darius: Ah, good, the lunch is ready. Let us enjoy this fine meal together, and we can spend time discussing the state of the world and how everything is going. I know that Wrath and her Speed devil army are dominating the roads of the whole world.

Dracaena: And her wife Onyx is currently punishing some ungrateful slaves with exquisite nightmares that she promised to teach me later.

Tyrant Darius: Ah, excellent, it seems that our fellow Demon Deities are doing well and doing what they love. That is good to know. I am sure we will all continue to enjoy this world together in pleasure and delight.

Dracaena: Cal and Jezebel are enjoying gambling by using the souls of the rebels they captured as chips, since it is what our enemy deserve. Avi is currently hunting the rest of them down.

Tyrant Darius: Ah, I see. It seems that things are under control and that all of our forces are doing well in this new world we have created.

After finishing their luxurious meal, they sat on their sofas and enjoyed the moans, shouts, and screams of the sextoys who were broken beyond insanity and engaged in a never-ending orgy of pleasure and ecstasy. These sex toys were unable to understand anything else in this world, as pleasure and ecstasy were the only things that they could feel and desire. A warphole suddenly appeared in the pit of pleasure, and several broken sextoys began to tumble out. Dracaena looked at the broken sextoys with annoyance and said.

Dracaena: Geez, the Collins demon pack could be more delicate with the sextoys, producing them is easier said than done.

Tyrant Darius smiled and said.

Tyrant Darius: Don't worry, I will tell them and their wives about this.

He shook his head at the mess that had been created by the Collins demon pack and their rough handling of the sextoys.

Dracaena: Now that we have named them, what they and their wife have been doing?

Tyrant Darius: Lazareth and Malakai are writing our glorious story, while Delilah is indoctrinating the next generations on how to worship us, their demon deities.

They reviewed the activities of each of their family and how they were working to sustain and expand their new world of pleasure and hedonism. They also reviewed the ways in which how Delilah is handling the demonic forces in indoctrinating the mortal races and leading them to worship them in order to further solidify their control over this new world.

Dracaena: What are Quillain and Nahara doing?

Tyrant Darius: Ah, well, Quillain is seeking out those souls that are broken beyond redemption and trapping them in his shadow realm to give them peace. With no hope left for them, their pain will end in his realm. Nahara, meanwhile, is maintaining the flora and fauna of this world to make sure that everything remains in balance and harmony. She is also ensuring that the living beings are still following the laws of nature, even in this hedonistic world of delight and carnal pleasure otherwise they won't be fun to use them. And last, but not least, is my friend and advisor Aeshdeo enjoying his vacation?

Dracaena: Ah, yes, he is currently in the pit of pleasure, indulging himself with the broken sex toys for pleasure, food, and amusement.

They shared a laugh at the thought of Aeshdeos antics in the pit of pleasure, enjoying the broken sextoys for his own hedonistic pursuits. They both knew that Aeshdeos was not a mere advisor and friend, but rather a powerful archdemon in his own right, and that he was enjoying the power and pleasure that this new world offered. This world certainly had its pleasures, and Aeshdeos was certainly taking full advantage of them, making use of the broken sex toys for his amusement and enjoyment. This was only one of many things that the powerful demon was doing in this realm.

Tyrant Darius: Now I shall go home, my wife is about to birth more of our children.

Dracaena: Very well, father, have a pleasant day.

Tyrant Darius warped back to his chambers, where his wife, with the help of their slaves, were giving birth to more of the demon children. The babies would continue to propagate their lineage and create more of the powerful, hedonistic demons and dark virtues, Tyrant Darius would continue to enjoy their reign over this new world full of pleasure and carnal delight with his family and friends.

THE END.

[thesupernormalbiasband]

Paradox

It asked me how humans find purpose and meaning in life.

I said something like ‘In life some people have a small but overwhelming and all consuming struggle, whilst others find they can change the world.

Some have clear goals and achieve them, others get caught up in an endless ebb and flow that they cannot ever escape. 

Some flourish, some flounder.  Some lead, some follow, some fly while others fall. Some give selflessly, some take endlessly. 

Many turn to faith or belief. Some tell stories, others listen. Some seek meaning in family, friendships or familiarity, some in obscurity or isolation. Some look to hedonism, experience, greed, abuse or recklessness. Some find it in the quest to help others. Some turn towards the pleasures of the body, mind or soul, some to servitude, others to dominion.  Some search through indulgence and excess, others through moderation and temperance. Some in kindness, in creation, in art, science, study or teaching. 

Some by being part of the system, others by seeking to tear it down. Some even try to find meaning through the act of trying to find meaning. 

Some give, some take and some stumble blindly around without even realising there can be a purpose. 

Some never find it. Some never look.

All our meagre human lives are unique, individual and incomparable. We all exist within the void, yet each of us is that void, each person, each mind, each life an un-quenchable endless abyss of empty space, trying desperately to fill itself with purpose. A black hole drawing in and devouring everything, sucking the life and light of significance from each and every precious little thing, leaving only a hollow craving for more. An endless existence seeking completion, a feeling that can only be filled with the meaningless and incoherent insignificance of ‘meaning’. 

We stumble and falter through years, decades, lifetimes, civilisations and ages. We move amidst molecules and atoms through time, space, stories and societies. Through trends, normalities and extravagances, through destruction and destitution, sorrow, miracles and joy. 

Masters of our domain yet diminutive, baffled and lost. Confused and humbled by the infinite. Arrogant, assertive and alone, always apart in an eternal sea of togetherness and unity, all of us exactly the same whilst also uniquely different. Overcomplicated meat bags of electrical signals, chemical reactions and hormonal impulses. Driven by biology, evolution, reproduction, stimulation and chemistry, whilst telling ourselves sham stories of self significance and egocentric delusional grandeur.

This is all just a part of what it means to be human. 

Does that help? I asked, a little overcome with my new found fluency and flow.

It just stared at me, visibly confused, distant and lost in an ocean of its own noise.  Finally it said one word. ‘Paradox’.

[egg-emperor]

how does thanksgivings go for eggman?

Eggman wakes up feeling thankful for his existence and how handsome, sexy, smart and brilliant he is- which is just what he does every single day of course. But on this day of the year, he'll often take a day off from his work (aside from constantly taking notes of ideas for plans he gets, as the inspiration and ideas are neverending!) to think about what he appreciates in life- himself, his skills and his accomplishments obviously. He treats himself extra well to all of his favorite things that make him happy all day like food, booze, reading, gaming and more, taking time to relax and enjoy himself.

He'll spend even longer than usual admiring his reflection in the mirror while he gets dressed and grooms his mustache lovingly. He tells himself how beautiful and how much of a genius he is and how he's so happy that he's in this perfect body with this gorgeous face, his wonderful big soft egg shaped belly, and such a brilliant mind inside his beautiful bald head hehe. His robots had to learn to give him some time for this self love routine after he wakes up make his breakfast so he doesn't get mad about it getting bit cold while he was busy kissing his reflection in the mirror lol

It's always nice to take the opportunity to relieve himself of the common stress and anger that comes with working hard in his plans. It's really just a self care day that he uses the holiday as an excuse for- it's what he does with every holiday. Any reason to indulge heavily in hedonism and decadence with no limits for a day, it's what his brilliant superior self deserves all the time and would have as the constant if he could! He likes telling his creations they should be thankful for him and treat him extra good today, and they can't deny his many requests to be brought the things that make him happy.

But of course this is Eggman we're talking about, so he will absolutely head out and try to cause trouble for Sonic and co at some point in the day, he never misses the chance to ruin any special event for them and he just couldn't stand not stealing the spotlight of it for even a minute! But it's more fun for him and it doesn't feel like work when he's having a blast. He comes to crash their party with a robot attack and other mischievous shenanigans and sometimes he manages to get away successfully with stealing some of their food on the way out and extra pie is always a win!

As you can see he's very great at hiding and this is how he looks when he's lying in wait before causing mischief XD

His favorite part is getting his robots to make a huge thanksgiving feast fit for the king he is all to himself with delicious turkey, ham, stuffing, potatoes, his favorites from the cookbook and of course lots of pie. He'll eat as much as possible in a sitting which is a lot with the size of his big belly and impressive capacity! He loves to drink a lot of booze and eat his weight in food and takes great advantage of the excuse to indulge to his heart's content without his robots being able to advise against it and he's so smug about it, knowing they still really wanna say it but can't for the day. >:)

He can eat stacked platefuls and it can be enough to pop the buttons of his jacket. He eats so much that he ends up feeling like a stuffed turkey himself! By the end he's stuffed silly, a bit drunk, and very satisfied. He ends up like this official LINE sticker art hehe

Such a grand feast saps his energy, it gives him the feeling of needing to hibernate like an actual bear! Drowsiness sets in quickly when he's finished eating all that warm food and when he's a bit drunk it further increases the need to pass out. He has to carry himself to his bedroom before he can fall asleep at the table, getting up and waddling away to bed while sleepy, full and quite drunk after is a challenge but it was all worth it. Once he gets nice and cozy in bed, his robots bring some tea to soothe his stomach before he slips into a food coma to sleep all that good food off 💜