#kerri shell

[anamoon63]

Kerri: It's nice to finally meet you, Dale Cho, I've heard a lot about you. Dale: Good things, I hope. Kelly: *Ahem, ahem*.

Kerri had to leave quickly because her class was about to start. Kelly didn't even get to introduce herself. Dale: You're drinking a lot of coffee today, aren't you Kelly? Kelly: And you're making some weird friendships. First the fairy guy and now someone from the non-living realm? Dale: Kerri is pretty much alive. Kelly: Yeah, I can see that.

Now Kelly is the one who has to rush off because her next class is also about to start. Dale stayed a little longer at El Grotto, because he's a little hungry, and because his class is until the afternoon.

She decided not to make Dale a scene of jealousy over the vampire girl. But she did warn him to be careful with such supernatural creature prowling around. He wouldn't want to end up sleeping in a coffin or still be alive for the next 500 years!

[awardseason]

2023 Oscars — Nominees

Best Picture “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Avatar: The Way of Water” “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” “The Fabelmans” “TÁR” “Top Gun: Maverick” “Triangle of Sadness” “Women Talking”

Best Director Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”) Todd Field (“TÁR”) Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Actress Cate Blanchett (“TÁR”) Ana de Armas (“Blonde”) Andrea Riseborough (“To Leslie”) Michelle Williams (“The Fabelmans”) Michelle Yeoh (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Actor Austin Butler (“Elvis”) Colin Farrell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brendan Fraser (“The Whale”) Paul Mescal (“Aftersun”) Bill Nighy (“Living”)

Best Supporting Actress Angela Bassett (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”) Hong Chau (“The Whale”) Kerry Condon (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Stephanie Hsu (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Jamie Lee Curtis (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Supporting Actor Brendan Gleeson (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brian Tyree Henry (“Causeway”) Judd Hirsch (“The Fabelmans”) Barry Keoghan (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Ke Huy Quan (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best International Feature Film “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Edward Berger, Germany) “Argentina, 1985” (Santiago Mitre, Argentina) “Close” (Lukas Dhont, Belgium) “EO” (Poland) “The Quiet Girl” (Ireland)

Best Adapted Screenplay Edward Berger, Ian Stokell, and Lesley Paterson (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) Rian Johnson (“Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery”) Kazuo Ishiguro (“Living”) Ehren Kruger, Christopher McQuarrie, and Eric Warren Singer (“Top Gun: Maverick”) Sarah Polley (“Women Talking”)

Best Original Screenplay Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Todd Field (“TÁR”) Tony Kushner and Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”) Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Animated Feature “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” (ShadowMachine/Netflix) “Marcel the Shell with Shoes On” (A24) “Turning Red” (Pixar/Disney) “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” (DreamWorks/Universal) “The Sea Beast” (Netflix)

Best Cinematography James Friend (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) Darius Khondji (“Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths”) Mandy Walker (“Elvis”) Roger Deakins (“Empire of Light”) Florian Hoffmeister (“Tár”)

Best Visual Effects “Avatar: The Way of Water” (20th Century/Disney) “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Netflix) “The Batman” (Warner Bros.) “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” (Disney/Marvel) “Top Gun: Maverick” (Paramount)

Best Editing “Elvis” (Warner Bros.) “Everything Everywhere All at Once” (A24) “Top Gun: Maverick” (Paramount) “TÁR” (Focus Features) “The Banshees of Inisherin” (Searchlight Pictures)

Best Production Design “Avatar: The Way of Water” (20th Century Studios/Disney) “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Netflix) “Babylon” (Paramount) “Elvis” (Warner Bros.) “The Fabelmans” (Universal)

Best Makeup and Hairstyling “Elvis” (Warner Bros.) “The Batman” (Warner Bros.) “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” (Marvel/Disney) “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Netflix) “The Whale” (A24)

Best Costume Design “Elvis” (Warner Bros.) “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” (Marvel/Disney) “Everything Everywhere All at Once” (A24) “Babylon” (Paramount) “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris” (Focus Features)

Best Sound “Top Gun: Maverick” (Paramount) “Elvis” (Warner Bros.) “Avatar: The Way of Water” (20th Century/Disney) “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Netflix) “The Batman” (Warner Bros.)

Best Original Song “Hold My Hand” — Lady Gaga (“Top Gun: Maverick”) “Lift Me Up”— Rihanna (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”) “Naatu Naatu”— Kaala Bhairava, M.M. Keeravani, and Rahul Sipligunj (“RRR”) “Applause”— Diane Warren (“Tell It Like a Woman”) “This Is a Life”— David Byrne, Ryan Lott, and Mitski (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Original Score Justin Hurwitz (“Babylon”) John Williams (“The Fabelmans”) Volker Bertelmann (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) Carter Burwell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Son Lux (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Documentary Feature “All That Breathes” “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” “Fire of Love” “A House Made of Splinters” “Navalny”

Best Documentary Short Subject “The Elephant Whisperers” “Haulout” “How Do You Measure a Year?” “The Martha Mitchell Effect” “Stranger at the Gate”

Best Live Action Short “An Irish Goodbye” “Ivalu” “Le Pupille” “Night Ride” “The Red Suitcase”

Best Animated Short “The Flying Sailor” “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” “Ice Merchants” “My Year of Dicks” “An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It”

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 3)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

I. Stronger Together

CH 3 (5.3k) One afternoon you come back with Bianca from your baths and Tess informs you that you’ll now be accompanying Joel to one of his weekly community meetings. There are the three nights a week that you all leave the house, but Joel also goes out after dinner the other four nights of the week, interacting with different groups in The Valley. Tess has always accompanied him to his Thursday meeting and she lets you know that you’ll be taking her place.

At the meeting he introduces you to the group, which is comprised of farmers who live further down the Valley, outside the safety of the town. You learn that they come together every Thursday to bring in the animal products, take away food, trade supplies, discuss safety issues, and spend some time socializing. The evening meeting with Joel is the last thing they do before they head back to their land.

With each passing week, he watches you come out of your shell more and he’s impressed by your demeanor. You assist the older folks with getting a drink and a bite to eat. You make conversation with them, easily giving them your time and attention. You nod and listen when they speak with Joel about their concerns. Most importantly, you don’t overstep. You allow him to speak, giving them his practiced lines, finding solutions to their issues and pacifying their fears.

You however, feel like you’re struggling to find your place at the house. In your attempt to fix the holes in Joel’s socks you accidentally sewed the socks shut, leaving Tess to pull the stitches and mend them properly. Tess gives you some rags and asks that you clean all of the surfaces in the house. She stops you ten minutes later when you can’t stop sneezing from the dust. She assigns you to the laundry instead, but the cold, soapy water makes your hands break out in hives. She makes a joke about you being allergic to hard work, but she doesn’t laugh. You think she was joking.

Sometimes you work outside with Rosie in the mornings, but you hate getting all dirty and smelling like earthworms. You pull up too many weeds that aren’t weeds and she sends you inside, urging you to use your talents elsewhere. What talents? You tag along with Sasha sometimes, and listen as she tells you how to set a trap for small animals, but you feel completely useless at her side. She’s good at so many things and you feel like a clumsy oaf, even more so when you trip in the woods one afternoon and scare off the deer she’d been tracking for an hour. She doesn’t attempt to hide her irritation the way Rosie did.

Kerri and Bianca try to use your help in the kitchen, but you burn all of the chicken on the grill your first night cooking. They switch you to helping with preparing the meals, but you cut yourself so badly with the knife that Joel threatens to take you back to the clinic and give you more of his blood. You stand against the doorframe with your arm above your head for forty five minutes before it stops bleeding and he calms down. No more kitchen work for you, he mutters as he holds you on the couch later, letting you rest while everyone else cleans up the meal.

All of the women are too nice to give you the dirty looks that you think you deserve. They all earn their place here and what can you do? Nothing. You try not to be sad the day that your only friend at the house, Bianca, moves out. Is she actually your friend, or is she just too timid to tell you off? You go up to the attic to help her pack up her few belongings before Tess sends you downstairs to help Kerri pack up to leave the room she’s been sharing with Sasha. 

You’re nervous that with Bianca gone you’ll be expected to take over her chores, which are a little bit of everything. You seem to mess up every chore you’re assigned. What the fuck are you supposed to do with yourself? As you walk down the stairs you hear Tess tell Bianca that this is for the best, and that she’s just getting bigger. You’d noticed Bianca gaining weight but you didn’t know that was a problem. Did Joel say something about her weight gain? Why would he care? 

You let your thoughts spiral a bit, wondering if Joel cared about your weight, if he would ask you to leave if you put on more pounds. Fat and useless, what a combo that would be. You’re not exactly skinny as it is, and you’re not even as nice looking as Bianca, with her kind, warm, brown eyes and her long, chestnut hair. She’s very shy and nearly silent but she’s very pretty. You see men look at her. Most people don’t give you a second glance, but that’s the way you prefer it. There’s a reason you chopped all your hair off and wore tight bindings across your chest for months.

You don’t want men looking at you. When a man looks at you he’s only thinking about one thing. He’s thinking what he can get out of you, what he can take from you; except Joel, you tell yourself. Joel doesn’t look at you like that. Joel doesn’t take, he wouldn’t do that. He still looks at you with wonder. He still has so many questions in his eyes about you that you’ve been slowly trying to answer. Maybe if you let him in, show him you’re trying to trust, he won’t care that you aren’t as useful in the home as the other women. 

–

Joel’s schedule is packed, making up for meetings he missed while he visited with you all day, every day in the clinic for nearly two weeks. It means you have less reading time together during the week, so your time together dwindles to holding hands under the table at mealtimes, quick smooches as he pulls you into his office between meetings, and nuzzling into each other outside your bedroom door in the mornings. 

Your only real alone time now is walking to and from the meeting on Thursdays. Each week after the meeting ends the group members filter out, some staying back to help you put away the folding chairs. As a group, you all walk together to the town square before splitting up; them heading out of town while you and Joel head back to the house. Each of these evenings allows you two a few stolen moments alone on the porch of the house before returning inside.

First you just spend them with your foreheads touching, noses brushing, and shared giggles between your pressed together lips. The second week Joel drags you onto his lap on the front porch bench, kissing and licking at your neck while you card your fingers through his hair. You start to panic when you feel him getting aroused underneath you, but the terrified voice in the back of your mind is muted when the front door opens and Sasha comes out for firewood, interrupting and ending your time alone together.

The following week is Thanksgiving, one of the few holidays The Valley celebrates. Joel makes sure you’re sitting next to him at the head table. There is so much going on, almost every single person – save for a small patrol – is gathered together for this feast. Everyone joins hands above the table while someone makes a prayer, but Joel doesn’t let go of yours for a long time afterward.

Even though you haven’t been getting as much alone time together, Joel feels like you’re still growing ever-closer. He has you next to him for this holiday meal so he can show you off. He wants everyone in The Valley to see that you trust him, that you’re becoming his. He notices your wide eyes scan the room, overwhelmed by the very large crowd of people and the raucous event. He leans over and whispers in your ear.

“What are you thankful for, baby?”

He sees your eyes cast down, trying to hide a shy smile. You squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. He squeezes yours back to ground you, to reassure you, like he’s taming a feral little animal.

The following week as you and Joel put away the chairs after the meeting, you hear a man call out a goodnight and you look up just in time to see the last farmer heading out the door. You turn in a circle to confirm there is no one else in the room with you and Joel, and your eyes come back to the door just as it clicks shut. The silence that follows is deafening. You’re completely alone with Joel. Completely.

What strikes you is not the all-encompassing fear that grips you; what strikes you is how this is not the usual fear you have come to know from being alone with a man. For once, you’re not scared of what Joel might do – by now you trust him not to hurt you. You have been mostly alone with him so many times in the last two months and he has always been gentle and respectful, never crossing your still-unspoken boundaries.

After he told you about his daughter, something inside of you shifted. For the first time in your whole life you thought that perhaps you belonged somewhere. Being here with him feels right, it feels like your destiny. You’re not scared of him doing something, you’re scared of him doing nothing. What if he doesn’t want you as badly as you want him? What if he got tired of waiting for you? What if he rejects you?

Joel sees you staring at the door with that look in your eye, the look like you want to run right through it, leaving behind a cartoonish hole in the door in your wake. 

“PJ”, he says, and your eyes find his, “Let’s put away these chairs and we can go.” 

–

He doesn’t try to hold your hand on the way home, worried that you’re too skittish for him to touch, sure that you’d bolt if he tried. You’ve never done that, you’ve never run from him and yet it’s always in the back of his mind. He’s so worried about losing you. He thinks about it all the time. It terrifies him.

The hour is late when you return to the house and you find it dark, everyone already in bed. You both head upstairs but instead of heading into his room as he usually does, he turns with you and stands outside your door. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Your hair has been growing out, looking more like a pixie cut now. He can just see the wet of your eyes twinkle in the darkness.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, your voice faint even in the silent house. 

A deep rumble emanates from Joel’s chest. He can’t enter your room. It’s been one of Tess’ rules since the beginning and it’s very important to her. The position he holds in The Valley, the way that everyone looks up to him, she said they’ve put him on a pedestal. And once on a pedestal you have to be very careful because everyone can see you. 

Everyone knows he lives with all of these women, and everyone knows that he sleeps with most of them. Everyone but you. He’s kept this knowledge from you on purpose. They are consenting adults, they each have their own space and their own autonomy. If they want to initiate sex with him, they come to his room. He doesn’t go to them, keeping it entirely on their terms. 

But how does he reject your offer to come into your room without telling you the rest? Without revealing all of his half-truths and omissions. It’s taken so long for you to trust him, he can’t destroy that trust. But won’t saying no hurt you too? He wants to say yes but he can’t. How the fuck does he say no to you? Shit. He’s already waited too long to answer, his silence has gone on for too long.

“We could… close the door,” you offer. His eyes clench shut.

Jesus Christ you’re going to kill him. His dick is aching in his jeans right now. He’s been waiting for you to make an offer like this for so long. Waking up every morning hard, having to jerk off like a teenager before he can even start his day. None of the women have even tried to come to his room for sex since he brought you down off that mountain. He didn’t ask but he’s sure they see him preoccupied with you. Hell, he’s damn near drowning in you.

He’s never been like this with a woman he’s brought into the house. Never kissing them in the kitchen or touching their knees under the dinner table. He’s never made out with one of them in his office between meetings or woken up early just to smell their hair in the hallway. He’s gone off the fucking rails and it’s all because of you. But he can’t break the rule, he can’t accept your invitation into your room. He also can’t tell you about the rule.

Your heart is going to beat out of your chest, you’re sure of it. Joel reaches one hand forward to grab yours, finally touching you. His calloused fingertips trace the inside of your wrist, gently moving across the delicate skin. You can barely see in the dark but you know he’s moved closer because you can smell him, feel the heat of his body radiating off him. His clothes smell like sunshine, line-dried in the crisp autumn air. You smell the day wafting off his skin, a hint of sweat and leather hits your nostrils.

Your knees begin to knock together and you’re so afraid that they’re going to give out under you when he rejects you. You reach your free hand up to brace yourself, placing it on his chest, feeling his own heart thumping wildly underneath. You barely hear him say not tonight PJ over the pulsing beat in your ears, but before you can react to his refusal you feel his arms snake around your waist and he’s pressing his lips onto yours, hard. 

He pushes you up against the open door frame of your room, his feet planted securely in the hallway. You immediately grant his tongue access to your mouth and he begins to explore it, for the first time. You’ve never felt his hot wet tongue against yours, and you think it just might be the thing that kills you. You moan into his mouth as you throw your arms around his neck.

He continues to kiss you with moving lips and licking tongue, your hands moving to twist in his curls – curls that are a bit longer than when you first met him. His arms roam freely up and down your back, pulling you close to him and pressing your hard nipples against the broad planes of his chest. You’re lost in the heat of him, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressing to yours. You’ve waited so long for this. You don’t know how long it’s going to last but you never want it to end.

Driven by lust, madness, or both, you cup your hand over the zipper on his jeans, palming his erection. It feels so big in your hold. He exhales a moan into your mouth and clutches his hand overtop of yours, pressing you into him more firmly, curving your fingers around the heft of it. Fuck, it’s so hard. You feel wetness dripping out of you into your underwear. Holy fuck you’re getting dizzy. 

Unable to even think straight, you don’t notice he’s let go of your hand until you feel it cupping the front of your jeans, and the noise that leaves your mouth is sinful. He slams his mouth overtop of yours to muffle your wail but it still echoes down the silent hall. You know he must feel the heat radiating off your core, he must already feel how embarrassingly wet you are. He brings both hands to the front of your jeans and undoes the button, pausing to look you in the eyes and wait for you to nod him on further. You do.

As he takes down the zipper you close your eyes and think this is finally it, you’re finally going to feel him where you need him the most. But instead of feeling his fingers skirt along the waistband of your underwear, you feel them touching your lips. You open your eyes and his face is inches from yours. He nods his head and tells you to open, and lets his index and middle finger pass over your lips and touch your tongue.

He doesn’t have to tell you to close your mouth, you do it on your own, closing your eyes again and letting your pooling saliva coat his digits. You lick your tongue between them, along his knuckles and the pads of his fingers, then you gently suck, running your tongue flat along the underside as if it were another part of him in your mouth instead. You wish there was more light in the hallway because when you open your eyes to look at his face you’re pretty sure he looks the way you feel.

He takes his fingers out of your mouth slowly, a trail of saliva connecting them to your tongue briefly, before he dips them into your underwear and slides them right over your clit. He wouldn’t have known of course, but he didn’t need you to wet his fingers, you were already soaking wet from just his touch. The state he finds you in sends jolts of electricity surging down his cock. 

He gently rubs his finger alongside your bundle of nerves, dragging them down to collect even more of your ample wetness. You scramble your hands up the front of his shirt, longing for skin-to-skin contact with him. You shuffle your fingers through his sparse chest hair and drag your nails over his hardening nipples, causing him to crash his lips against yours to silence his own groan this time.

He pushes his middle finger towards your hole and feels you nodding as he does it. His finger slides inside you so easily; you’re so fucking wet. He’s never felt anyone this wet before. You reach around behind him and shove your hands down the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass, squealing against his mouth when you discover that he’s not wearing underwear.

He continues to work his middle finger in and out of your tight hole, spreading his index finger to run it up alongside your exposed clit. He knows you like it because you’re whimpering and clawing at him non-stop. It’s so loud in the otherwise dead-silent house but he can’t bring himself to give a single shit who else can hear you. Every sound you make goes straight to his leaking dick.

He pulls his mouth off yours and brings his face to your hair, inhaling deeply. Today was your bath day and your hair smells like soap and lavender. He likes it but he prefers when it smells slept-in, smells like you. He lowers his mouth and sucks a dark mark into your skin just below where your neck meets your shoulder, then he brings his lips to your ear, biting and kissing your earlobe. 

He whispers in your ear; you’re so fucking wet baby, you’re so tight, can feel how wet you are, can you feel it baby?, I’m gonna smell like you after this ya know, you’re all over me, can you hear it?, you’re gonna feel me for days baby, for days.

You yank on his arms, pulling him as close to you as possible and orgasm with a squeal, shuddering in his hold and panting his name over and over into the hollow of his neck. He takes his hands out of your pants, glistening with your release, and greedily shoves his fingers into his mouth above your head. Once clean he brings his face to the side of your neck, nuzzling you and nipping at your skin there and breathing in your heady scent.

Before either of you get a chance to give any due attention to his painful, raging erection, Tess’ door opens and she comes out of the room to head towards the bathroom. You yip in embarrassment and cross into your room, closing the door in Joel’s face. Joel shoots Tess a pissed off look and Tess shrugs her shoulders.

“Sorry, it sounded like you guys were done,” she says flippantly as she closes the bathroom door.

Joel knocks lightly at your door a few times and you open it a bit, mortified at being caught acting like a couple of horny teenagers. 

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he coos. “We didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” 

That’s true. He made sure to stay outside of your room so Tess has nothing to be upset about. He leans his face into the crack of your door and you give him several kisses on the lips but then you hear Tess coming back out of the bathroom and you shut the door in his face again, muttering a flustered goodnight from the other side of the wood.

He turns to Tess again, visibly angry and she suppresses a smile. She resists teasing him verbally and instead kisses him on the cheek and wishes him a goodnight also, closing her door behind her. Joel takes himself into his room and fucks his fist – again – to thoughts of you.

–

The week passes quickly, alone time together still nonexistent as Joel’s responsibilities increase. He always seems to be out of the house on patrols, having meetings, and visiting community members. He argues with Tess about his schedule being too full and she tells him winter is hard, and that people need extra reassurances to make it through. She also reminds him, in a whisper, that he has spent a lot of time focusing on one person and ignoring the rest, and he needs to make up for that. His only response is a growl before he leaves the room.

Joel finds you outside the bathroom door one morning and you blush, realizing you’re wearing one of his button-up shirts, ready to defend yourself for pilfering it off the laundry line. Instead of admonishing you, he wordlessly pulls the open collar over your one shoulder a bit, observing the fading mark he’d sucked into your skin. He kisses over it gently and you think he’s having regrets about marking you like that, but you say nothing, a little embarrassed by the fact that you stare at it every morning in the bathroom mirror.

When Thursday comes around again you find yourself alone once more after the meeting, entering a house that is dark and quiet. Instead of going upstairs you both go into the kitchen for a glass of water, slowly taking sips from your glass before you lose all control and launch yourself at him. This might be your first time instigating this kind of behavior but your need for him fuels your boldness.

You grab at him everywhere you can reach, pulling him tight to you, feeling the hardness of his shoulders under your hands and the softness of his belly against yours. You pull on fistfulls of his hair and shove your tongue into his mouth, eliciting groans from him. You don’t even care how desperate you appear as you writhe against him, whimpering. You are desperate for him. 

You need him to hold you tight, to kiss you hard, to make you feel like a woman. You need to belong to him, to matter to him, to make him happy. You need him to give you purpose, to bring you joy, to make you whole. You need him to make you forget every man that came before him, every hand that touched you with bad intentions. You need to feel his body enveloping you. You need him to consume you.

He pulls you into the dining room and lifts your legs up to place your butt on the table’s edge but instead you wrap both legs around his waist. He growls at your aggressive move and pushes your back down firmly on the dining table, keeping himself against you. He begins to grind himself against your core, unable and unwilling to hold himself back.

Feeling like feral animals, you lick and moan into each other’s mouths as the table creaks beneath you. You shove your hands up the back of his shirt, clawing marks down him. He moves his face along your neck, taking deep inhaling breaths and nipping at your skin, debating on whether to give you a fresh mark. Fisting your hands in his hair, you tug on his locks and interrupt his thoughts, earning groans that he muffles into the crook of your shoulder. 

Suddenly the lights in the kitchen flip on, and Tess is standing in the doorway.

“Please,” she says calmly, “Not on the table where we eat.”

You clap your hand over your mouth, silencing your loud yelp. Joel pushes himself off the table, also startled by her appearance. You take the opportunity to scramble away and run up the stairs. Hearing your door slam closed, Joel turns to Tess, snarling.

“What the fuck, Tess? What the fuck,” grabbing the edge of the table in a splintering grip. 

“Why don’t you two just fuck already?” she chuckles, trying to rile him up.

“That’s what I’m fuckin’ trying to do,” he growls, slamming his fists down several times. 

“Don’t break my fucking table,” she snaps at him. 

Joel grabs her by the hips and pushes her face down bent over the table, slamming his body into her ass. Tess just lays there, letting him rut into her for a moment. He grabs her by the hair, yanking her up, and takes a big inhale into the back of her head, continuing to grind his pelvis into her. He takes a few more breaths and stops moving his hips, calming down. Eventually he releases her, pushing her away from him harshly.

“Yeah, I don’t smell like her, do I?” Tess says. 

He mutters something she can’t quite make out, still pissed off. She can see his softening erection but a wild fucking look remains in his eyes. She watches him point to the table several times before he opens his mouth. 

“That’s my fuckin’ table. I’ll do whatever I fuckin’ want to it,” and with that he goes up to bed. 

He jerks off in his room alone. Again.

–

Once again the interim week is relatively tame, as you don’t have much chance to be alone together. You manage to sneak in kisses and touches when you can, but your stolen moments are no longer innocent. There’s no more playful giggles or gentle caresses. You exchange lustful glances over the table, your kisses are laden with tongue and your touches are now groping and needy. 

You wake up every morning having dreamt of him all night, and spend every day wet and wanting, full-body shudders running through you at the memory of his hands and lips on you. Everytime you pass him in the hallway you ache for him, fleeting touches never fulfilling the longing you feel. You can’t get to sleep at night without touching yourself, covering your face with your pillow to muffle your pleasure. 

You don’t remember being this wound up over anyone in your whole life, especially not since the world ended and every day became a fight to survive. Touching yourself never brought you such relief before, but imagining it’s Joel touching you ignites a spark deep inside and your desire is driving you mad. Joel makes you forget how miserable things are, how scared you’ve been. He makes you feel safe.

The next Thursday you come back from the meeting much later than expected, Tess is waiting up – drinking tea in the dining room, a bit concerned. She sees you both enter, him practically carrying you inside and up the stairs. When he comes back down she goes to make some commentary about you two “finally” doing the deed when she sees a fresh wet stain high inside the thigh of his pants. Did he come in his pants?

“What the fuck?” she can’t help it from slipping out. 

He doesn’t meet her eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and shuffles into the kitchen for a drink. He doesn’t seem agitated like he was when she interrupted him before so she thinks he must at least be satisfied with whatever happened tonight. He passes back through the room and mutters a goodnight, heading upstairs without elaborating on the state he’s in or what kept you two so late.

She’s known Joel for many years and has felt a lot of things for him, but at no point did she let herself believe that he felt anything close to love for her. She had actually convinced herself that he was incapable of feeling love, and is pretty sure he’s convinced himself of the same thing. But what is this if not true intimacy?

She wasn’t sure about you at first, especially given your penchant for fucking up your chores. But you are friendly to your housemates and giving in the community. You’re kind but reserved, and although it takes you a while to warm up to people, Tess firmly believes that you’re a genuinely good person, and – most importantly–- could be truly good for Joel. She sees that Joel lets his guard down around you, and that you like Joel for who he really is, which is something he doesn’t show to anyone.

She knows he’s kept things from you, and wonders how much he’s been manipulating you in-between letting his true self show. Maybe that’s not the right word for what Joel does, manipulate. It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing when you’re the target of it. It feels good, amazing even, because when Joel makes you feel like you matter to him, it’s intoxicating. It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.

She wonders if things are going to change, and how they might change. She thinks that if Joel can admit his true feelings and commit, then his relationship with you could change the very trajectory of this community. She and Joel worked very hard to build this community up but she knows that it’s stable enough now that a change like this won’t topple it. She quietly hopes it will change significantly.

She doesn’t love how subserviently women are treated in this community and has always wondered if it would transform if Joel took a partner. For a while she hoped that partner would be her, but that thought died out long ago. If Joel is seen in public showing love and affection for an equal female partner, it could benefit women and the community as a whole going forward.

She lets herself envision that future, where Joel embraces his feelings and makes changes in his home and the community, and the positive effects are felt all across The Valley. But the biggest hurdle will be getting Joel to admit to himself – and everyone else – the softness and vulnerability that you bring out in him. Letting himself love someone means opening himself up to loss, and if there’s one thing that Joel Miller does not do, it’s lose.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Arthropoda - Thecostraca

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Thecostraca is is a class of crustaceans, many of which have planktonic larvae which become sessile or parasitic as adults. The most well-known group are the Barnacles (subclass Cirripedia), but Thecostraca also includes the parasitic Ascothoracida, and the mysterious Facetotecta.

Facetotecta, comprising only the genus Hansenocaris, are known only from their larvae (image 3) and adults have yet to be recognized, though some scientists believe they may actually be larval tantulocaridans.

Ascothoracidans are parasites of echinoderms and cnidarians. Most genera are meso and endoparasitic (living inside the host) while some are ectoparasitic (living on the outside of the host). They are similar in anatomy to copepods, with six pairs of legs, an abdomen with four segments, a telson, and a bivalved carapace. They feed on their host via piercing and sucking mouthparts, and some more advanced species also absorb nutrients through the carapace. They are sexually dimorphic, in many cases so much so that the smaller males will live inside the larger female’s mantle cavity.

Barnacles (subclass Cirripedia) are more well-known than other Thecostracans. Adult barnacles are sessile filter feeders, except for the infraclass Rhizocephala, which are parasites of other crustaceans. Barnacles attach themselves to a surface as adults, be that a rock, the shell of a mollusc, a ship, or a large animal such as a whale. They come in two common forms: acorn barnacles which grow their shells directly on a surface (image 4) and goose barnacles which attach themselves via a stalk (image 1). Barnacles have a carapace made of six calcareous plates, with a lid made of four more plates. They attach themselves to the substrate by means of a cement gland at the base of their antennae. Eight pairs of thoracic limbs, called cirri, extend from the carapace to filter plankton from the water and bring it towards the mouth. The hairs on these limbs are very sensitive to touch, and help the barnacle sense the world around them. They also have three simple eyes (ocelli) which can sense changes in light, allowing them to close their plates quickly if a shadow is detected.

Thecostracans have nauplius larvae, characterised by a head with antennules, antennae, mandables, and a single eye, three pairs of limbs, a carapace, and a telson. Barnacle larvae are brooded by the parent until their first moult, after which they are released to swim freely using setae.

The oldest known thecostracan fossil is dated from the Middle Cambrian. Traces of the parasitic forms have been dated from the Cretaceous.

Propaganda under the cut:

Barnacles have the longest penis (relative to body size) of any living animal. You can see it in action in the above gif and in this video.

Most barnacles are not parasitic (other than hitching a ride) and usually do no harm to the large animals they attach to. An overload of barnacles tends to be a symptom of an underlying issue, such as the animal being unable to shed its skin. Non-professionals scraping or pulling barnacles off of whales and turtles often does more harm than good for the affected animal!

12th-18th Century Europeans thought that Brants and Barnacle Geese emerged, fully formed, from Goose Barnacles. Gerald of Wales claimed to have seen the birds hanging down from pieces of timber, William Turner accepted the theory, and John Gerard claimed to have seen the birds emerging from their shells. In County Kerry, until relatively recently, Catholics abstaining from meat during Lent could still eat this bird because it was considered a fish.

As filter-feeders, barnacles play an important role in the ecosystem: not only for transferring nutrients up the food chain, but also for keeping the water clean.

When a barnacle chooses its home, it produces a biological glue made of six different proteins. While the glue hardens, it accumulates limestone salts, turning into a concrete-like shell. Barnacle glue is six times stronger than any manmade glue. Scientists are trying to replicate this glue for use in the fields of engineering, construction and medicine, where it can be used as a biological sealant during or post-surgery.

[litnerdwrites]

I was out all day yesterday, so I couldn't upload it then, so here it is now. Day seven, extended version. I do have plans to make this a series, and once I have all three series planned out, I'll be sure to ask who's you want to see first. Be sure to look out for more Euphemia content until then too. On a side note, did anyone see Kerri's stories, where she was scrolling through the first few pages of Throne of Secrets. We got a glimpse at the first couple of pages and honestly, ever teaser just makes me more impatient to read it.

This is probably my favourite piece, and the longest that I've written. Even though it's extended, there's so much more that I wanted to add, that I'll probably put into the series. I really loved writing Lust, and trying to balance gentle, romantic side with his lustful, jovial one. Although, I don't think there was much room for the latter here but I'll be sure to give it ago in the series. What are some of your favourite Lust moments from the trilogy? Let me know! @princeofsinweek

Day 7: Lust/Lover

Speak Now - Lust x OC

WC:4,077

TW: Almost forced marriage, abuse (father striking his daughter, plus forced fiancé hurting bride), mentioned death of a parent, mentioned canon typical violence.

Amara was stone faced as her ladies maids tittered around her, tugging, tucking and tidying up her hair in preparation. They had tried to make smalltalk at first, but when she didn’t respond, they quickly gave up. 

She wanted to grimace at her reflection. She wanted to tear the pins and veil from her hair. She wanted to smear the makeup from her face, even if she had to break a few nails and tear her skin to do it. She wanted to rip the silk and lace from her body, and throw it to the pigs. 

She wanted to run.

But she couldn’t. 

All because she had nowhere to go. Noone to turn to. 

The gown itself was classic. An a-line gown made of silk, with a sweetheart neckline, and thick lace sleeves. The ivy patterned lace reached right to where her neck met her head, and somehow managed to irritate her skin. Yet, despite her growing discomfort, she remained like a statue, even as the maids began wondering if she even lived or not. 

“You will wed the Prince, and you will finally make yourself useful to me,” 

Even as it echoed in her own mind, her father’s voice remained harsh, arguably colder than even the northernmost flaming tombs. It became his usual attitude after her mother had been killed by who Amara now knew was the Goddess of Death in an act of vengeance. The father she knew and loved lasted until the funeral, but once people began moving on with their lives, things began to change. Gone was the gentle, doting father she knew, and in his place was a shell of a man who only sought power and fame. 

Even at the expense of his own daughter.

Part of her, thinking back to that night, when she felt as though things had turned around for her. 

Growing sick of the scent of alcohol and sex in her home, she’d wandered to one of the many cliff sides in Palermo. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, eyes locked on the crashing waves below, but not really looking at them. 

It would be so easy to just… Push herself forward, and let herself fall. So, so easy. 

But, before she could properly contemplate the idea, he was pulled from her  thoughts by the distant sound of music. As if in a trance, she made her way down the side of the cliff wondering if it was the cold, or anticipation that had her limbs trembling. What she hadn’t expected was to find a bonfire, and a single male dancing on the beach. 

The sculptures that nobles commissioned from renowned artisans to line their overly elaborate halls must’ve been inspired by the man. His skin was gold, and hair dark. His charcoal eyes seemed to glow under the light of a flaming circlet that wrapped around his head. Yet, somehow, she got the impression that if she met his gaze, she’d feel like she was trapped in a darkened abys

se of desire. 

“If you like what you see, then why not join?” The male’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. 

He had been across the beach a moment ago, but now he stood right in front of her. Too close. His face was too close, as he bent at the waist to examine her. It was only then, when she felt that flaming circlet flicker against her forehead that she realized how… Wrong- no. Not wrong. How… Strange it was. 

“Doesn’t your head get hot during the summer?” she had blurted out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. 

The man’s eyes widened, and he had jerked back, clearly surprised by the question. He observed her, eyes narrowing somewhat, before leaning back, letting his lips spread into a grin.

“There are no summers where I’m from,” he shrugged. She blinked up at him, hands still pressed to her mouth, but eyes wide and curious. He seemed so jovial when she first saw him, then he looked like he could see all of her secrets laid bare, before going back to seeming like he was having fun. “Should you not be more concerned by this?” he cocked his head to the side.

Amara dropped her hands from her mouth, and blinked up at him again. After a few moments under his expectant gaze, she raised a brow, and rocked on the soles of her feet, answering with a shrug. “No. My mother was a witch,” 

Lust’s brows shot up. 

“You seem remarkably comfortable sharing that, when all it would take is the wrong person overhearing for you to be condemned,” 

“You aren’t exactly human either, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she pointed out, “I know enough about malvagi to know that if you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Clearly, you don’t. Not as of yet, anyway,” 

Lust’s brows shot up again, as he circled her. 

Amara held her chin high, eyes tracking the male. 

Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, though was likely only minutes.

“Do you know who I am, Stella Stregah?” he finally asked.

“A Malvagi,” she stated, matter of factly, before looking behind him, “Why are you having a bonfire all alone?” 

“Would you care to join me?” was the only response he gave.

“Will you attempt to use your powers on me?” she asked.

“Dance with me, and perhaps you’ll find out,” the demon bowed at the waist, offering his hand to her. 

Amara eyed him skeptically, but shrugged and accepted.

Music filled her ear again, though there was no discernible source, as the demon guided her through the steps. Amara let him. She followed his lead, though never once made eye contact with the demon. 

“Which one are you?” 

“I am the Prince of Lust,” 

She narrowed her eyes on him. Taking a moment to examine herself, and thinking over their interactions thus far. It didn’t seem like he used his powers on her.

“Why haven’t you tried to influence me with your sin, yet?” 

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” Lust huffs. 

“What?”

“Our powers can only inflate emotions that are already present. When I reached out to inflate yours, I sensed no emotion to inflate. Either you truly feel nothing, or they’re so deeply buried that even I can’t find them,” 

“I…See,” 

“Is that why you considered jumping from the cliff, Stella Stregah?” 

Lust raised a brow, examining the way her face scrunched. 

“That’s not your concern, Malvagi.” Amara snapped, moving to pull away.

He chuckled, yanking her into a spin, before she could, then caught her, and pushed her into a dip, hand cupping the thigh of her raised leg. His face was mear inches from hers.

“No need to be so wrathful, little witch. Let go of your troubles for a night. Release those pent up feelings and give in to your desires,” 

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she told him, point blank. 

“I never said you should. Not unless those are your desires,” Lust shrugged, not rising from the dip, letting his hand trail down her leg, “Dance. Drink,” she glanced behind him to see a table of drinks and food she hadn’t noticed before, and on the other side, comfortable looking chairs were laid out around the bonfire, “Rest. Talk. Sing. Give into whatever brings your pleasure,” 

“You mean to feed your sin,” 

“Perhaps. But can you deny that giving in to pleasure, forgetting what ails you, even for a single night, would be bad?” 

It wouldn’t. She knew it wouldn’t. 

“Surely you have plenty of people available to feed your sin,” 

“Yet I crave you,” 

Amara’s eyes narrowed. 

“If I give into pleasure, you won’t use your sin on me?” 

“Not unless you ask, little witch,” 

“Then it’s a deal. Just for tonight.” 

“Just for tonight.” 

It hadn’t been just for a night. 

She had returned two nights later, and made the same deal again, swearing it was the last time. Then again. And again. And again. And again. 

Eventually, she gave into more and more of her desires, spending more than a couple of those nights with him making love on the beach, or in a cave. One time, he’d even appeared in her bedroom while her father was out drinking. Lust had wrinkled his nose when he appeared, be it at the sorry state of the place she lived in, or the clear evidence of her father’s vices, despite his  own position, she couldn’t tell. 

Eventually, she’d found herself coming to enjoy the jovial prince’s company. Perhaps it was unwise to do so, given what she knew of the malvagi, yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Even as she began to desire more than just his body. Instead, she longed for tender nights where he held her by the fire after a particularly vigorous session of love making in a cave. 

Foolishly, she longed for the scowl he gave at her proposal to roast marshmallows over his flaming crown, before reluctantly agreeing if only she never shared it with her brothers, only to watch her oh, so tenderly as she made s’mores for them. Above all, she longed for the high she felt in his presence, which she recently learned wasn’t due to his sin, but rather her own feelings, and delusions.

That was all it was. Delusions. 

Princes of Hell are content to rule alone, with no desire to share their power with anyone. 

Now, at least she had her memories to hold onto as she got married. Then, when Prince Zarus would transform her into one of his own at the reception, right before injecting her with his venom, she’d likely lose all senses, or memories of her Prince. Perhaps that would be the mercy. To forget all of it, and be lost in the oblivion for the rest of eternity. 

A sharp knock snaps her from her thoughts. In the mirror, she watched the lady’s maids quickly shuffle out, but glanced away at her father’s entry. She refused to even look at him. 

He, obviously, noticed this too, but for once, did not strike her. Instead, he examined her.

“You don’t look like a whore, for once,” he comments. Amara said nothing. “Don’t look so sullen when you walk down the aisle. You are to wed royalty, and if you wish for comfort in your new life, do not let the prince tire of you.” 

“Don’t pretend this is for me,” she whispers, “All this is so you can gain wealth, power and immortality. You care nothing for how I feel about the matter.” Tears well in her eyes as she gazes at her reflection, feeling like an imposter. 

Her father approached, ignoring her flinch as he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning beside her head to watch her in the mirror.  

She refused to meet his gaze.

“Nonsense. You’re the precious,” his hands squeezed uncomfortably tight, voice strained, “daughter that my wife left behind before she died. I am merely doing what is best, so that you might live a life of comfort,” 

Amara wanted to retort. To hurl insults and decor at him, but knew the guards would happily inject her before the wedding started, upon their Prince’s orders, and drag her down the aisle in that state of euphoria if that’s what it took. She didn’t want that. She wanted to put it off as long as she could. Yet, she also wanted to be rid of her father. 

Mercifully, another knock at the door dragged her father away with one, final, painful squeeze of her shoulders. 

She barely noticed the newcomer enter after her father, the woman draped in silver, emanating a familiar sensuality. Amara’s eyes snapped to hers as she pressed a finger to her lips. A slip of paper drops in front of her, before she uses transvenio to make her escape. 

Eyes wide, Amara reaches for the paper, slowly unfolding it. 

My dearest Amara, You don’t have to say yes. Meet at the back door and I can take you away from here, somewhere you’d be happy. I’d give absolutely anything for that, so I ask that if you wish to escape this, then come find me. I’ll be there until the reception ends.  Forever yours, Prince Lust. 

The message burst into flames, leaving behind a slip of paper with a map drawn on it. It appeared to lead from her room to the place he was waiting. The only issue were the guards outside her room. With furrowed brows, she shoved the paper into her pocket, hoping she’d have a chance on the way to the altar. 

Finally, when her father came to collect her, she walked to the end of the hall. 

“Father. I- I forgot my necklace! Could you go back and get it?” 

“Just leave it, before we’re late,” he assures, with thinly veiled irritation and faux kindness.

“But it was a gift from the Prince. He’d be terribly angry if I don’t,” she tried.

Her father raised a brow, but nodded to the guards, who turned back. She and her father had watched them head back up the hall, to her room, before she turned on her heel, reaching for the paper. She’d made it halfway up the hall before a firm grip pulled her back. 

“Where do you think you’re-” he noticed the paper. His eyes slid over the map, narrowing on it. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp sting was felt across her face, strong enough to send her to the ground, “You whore! You think you can escape this? You think you can embarrass me?!”

She shrank under his ire, more tears welling in his eyes. 

“I- I’m sorry-”

He yanked her up by the arm. 

“No. But you will be. Just you wait until the reception is over,” he hissed, “Now compose yourself,” 

She did her best as they stood in the hallway, certain that the guards heard everything. A put of dread opened up in her stomach and minutes ticked by far too slowly, yet far too quickly at the same time. Each second was like a step towards the gallows. 

She barely processed the guard’s return or her father clasping the necklace around her. She didn’t bother to hide her stiffness, or heartbreak, even as her father snapped at her to smile. As far as she was concerned, this was as good as walking to the executioner’s block. 

The doors to the throne room opened, revealing the altar, where the immortal throne, where Zarus, sat at the end of an aisle laid with red and black petals. 

Amara didn’t care much what plant they were from, only that it felt like a mocking reminder that the path to her future was scattered with more and more burdens to laden her shoulders. 

She didn’t notice when she got to the altar.

She didn’t acknowledge the priest, or her fiance. 

She stood in stony silence, with the eyes of bloodsucking monsters pinned to her. 

The lines she dreaded most were coming.

She hardly felt like she could breath, much less speak. 

She wanted to run.

She had to run.

She needed to run. 

Run. 

Run.

Ru-

“Do you, Amara Willows, take Prince Zarus to be your Prince and your husband, and to serve him and his court, for the rest of eternity?” 

Her throat dried up. 

She couldn’t speak.

“Amara?” a distant voice called.

She couldn't discern who.

She could feel her father’s harsh glare on her, and the Prince’s hand tightening on hers. 

“Amare Willows, do you take-” 

She couldn’t take it. She ran. Amara practically jumped off the altar, gown bunched in her hands, as she raced for the doors. There was yelling, and she felt pain in her foot as she stumbled, shoe falling off in the process, but she refused to acknowledge the pain as she made for the doors. It only really sunk in as two guards caught her arms in a bruising grip.

“Let me-” 

“Aren’t you supposed to ask those with objections to ‘speak now’ or some bullshit?” 

Amara’s head snapped towards the door at the familiar voice. Charcoal eyes met her own, and the flames that circled his head flickered somewhat brighter. As per usual, he wore an embroidered suit jacket and pants, foregoing the shirt. 

It was him. 

He was here. 

Her prince was here. 

“There is none in this court who would dare object to their Prince’s union,” scowled Zarus. 

“Luckily I’m not part of this court then,” Lust grins, ever the jovial one, “So allow me to say with all sincerity in my non-existent heart,” he mocked, only, there was something different. His eyes had an intensity about them that she’d never seen before, “that I object,” 

“Lu-” she tried to reach out, only for Zarus to appear in front of her. 

The guards back off when Zarus grabs her wrist. 

“On what grounds? You have no right to interfere in our affairs,”  

“I do when you take a member of my court,” 

“My daughter has never been a member of your vile court!” Her father interrupted, his face going red, from embarrassment or rage, she couldn’t tell. 

“You see, that’s where you're wrong,” Lust starts, as he begins his way up the aisle, “She and I had made a deal, that involved her allowing me to fuel my sin through her several times a week. Marrying you would prevent her from holding up her end of the bargain,” 

Her eyes widened as she recalled the deal she made, time and time again. 

“Each corner of The Underworld has its own set of laws. Human law, the law of the Shifting Isles, dictates that a woman may not enter such agreements without her father or husband’s consent, deferring only to their female line in the absence of a male relative,” her father snapped. 

“Yes, however, each law can be overturned by The King,” 

“Not without valid reason to-” 

“And there is,” a new voice called. 

The man who just entered is burly, with dark hair, tied back with leather, and upswept, dark eyes. A scar is carved through his right cheek, a silver gleam against his darker features, and fine black suite. Despite how bored the man seems, the way his hand remains in reach of what appears to be a dagger’s sheath makes it clear that he’s been assessing everything with a warrior’s eye. He came prepared for violence. 

Lust told her about him before. Anir. The King’s second. 

“Consent is the most important aspect of courtship and marriage. Yet your bride doesn’t appear to want to be here at all,” Lust muses.

“What nonsense-” her father snapped, but was cut off by a withering glare from Anir. 

“The King has asked me to confirm this. If it is true, then he’s willing to recognise House Lust’s claim of the woman, and has ordered me to leave behind a declaration of war as a result,” Anir holds an envelope between two fingers. 

“This is ridiculous-” her father attempted again, only to be cut off again.

“Of course my bride wishes to be here,” Zarus turns from Anir to Amara, grip tightening painfully on her wrist, “don’t you?” 

Amara winces, unable to speak from the strength with which he was holding her. Anir examined her, waiting, but the pain in her wrist became too much. She was sure he was crushing the bone, even before she heard a snapping sound coming from there. She wanted to cry out, only for the pressure on her wrist to vanish in a moment. 

That was the moment the petals scattered on the aisle started coming closer. It was as if she was falling.

It wasn’t until warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to a warm chest, that she saw Lust kneeling beside her. Through her gaze, though blurred with unshed tears, she noticed a female demon, the one from before, gripping the Prince’s hand almost as tightly as he did her’s. Tighter perhaps. 

A warm hand gently guided her face away from the sight, so that she might meet the gaze of her prince instead. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make it,” she whispered, thinking to her failed attempt at escape,” 

“It’s okay, little witch. I’m here now,” Lust whispers, cradling your body. 

You turn to see the man, Anir, approaching too. His gaze is calculating as he observes you, likely trying to figure out what to report to his prince. 

“What’s important now is that you’re honest,” he tells you sternly, though not unkindly, “If you don’t wish to marry Zarus, speak now, Miss Willows,” 

Her heart races at his words, at the opportunity to escape. She wants to reach for it, to grasp it but-

“But where will I go?” she asks weakly. 

Lust, who was cradling her wounded wrist in his hand, smiled gently at her. Like he had many times before. 

“You’ll come with me,” he whispered. 

“But why? You have so many demons to feed your sin, so why-” 

“Because I want you,” he reminds her, “I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I want you. Not anybody else,” he leans down to your ear, “Come back with me, to House Lust. Join my court officially. Be mine. Let me make you my princess, and then be mine. Mine for eternity,” 

“Lust-” 

“Hush. Let me finish,” he waits for you to nod before speaking, “In return, I’ll give you all the comfort and pleasure you want. I won’t have dalliances with anyone else. I won’t look at anyone else. Nobody but you. I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, if you just say ‘yes’” 

He’s practically begging, in front of the entire vampire court, and his brother’s second, no less. 

You don’t bother to contain your tears as you lean up, wrapping your good arm around him. 

“Miss Willows-” Anir begins. 

“Amara, I forbid-” 

“Yes,” she manages to get out through her sobs, not breaking your gaze from Lust’s, “I want to go to House Lust. I want to leave this place,”

Anir nods, beginning to address the room again, but you pay it no mind. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Lust’s shoulders, mindful of the injured wrist, and buried your face there. The demon from earlier tried to console her, only for Lust to wave her away. He could feel her emotions. The fear, and heartache for her situation, all overshadowed by relife, joy, and desire for her freedom, for Lust. He felt no need to inflate it, instead, he gently encouraged her to let it out however she needed. 

It was only when Lust deposited her on a bed covered in deep plum silks, and overly stuffed pillows.

“Care for a bath?” he asked.

“As long as it stays one. I’m far too tired to do anything right now,” she murmured to him.

Lust chuckled, but agreed, as he helped her from, what he called, an inordinate amount of fabric, as she giggled and reminded him that it was only two layers.

“Two layers too many,” he huffed, before tearing the dress from her body and depositing her in the bat. 

While she soaked, Lust gently wiped the makeup from her face, before pressing a kiss to her temple. He brought some ointment and bandages for her wrist, silently wrapping it, before carrying her back to bed.

“If you don’t wish to sleep bare, I could have some night clothes brought,” he gently offered, as he helped her dry off.

Amara shook her head.

“I’ve slept beside you, naked, in caves, and on sand. I think I’ll be fine to do so while wrapped in the most comfortable silks I’ve ever seen,” she assured.

Lust smiled, nodding, before reaching for something from the bedside.

“I only wish for your comfort, little witch, before I make good on one of my promises,” 

Amara blushed at the reminder.

“You don’t-”

He ignored her as he took a ring in one hand, hew good wrist in the other. 

“I want to. Let me make you my princess. My fiance. My only lover,”

She stared at him, noting sincerity in his dark eyes. Amara nodded.  

“Then, from now until eternity, be mine, Lust,” 

Lust slid the ring to her finger, then pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Mine,” he nipped at her.

She giggled, and nipped back.  

“Mine,” 

[divinatorydoll]

venus in pisces: 📝

in june, i replied to this beautiful post from @saturnsdreamgirl about lakshmi and her emergence from the sea of milk:

like i said in my tweet, venus is exalted in the sign of pisces !! venus represents softness and ease, even her birth from the ocean was gentle. aphrodite was protected by uranus' shell and lakshmi found eternal residence inside vishnu's heart

yesterday, i made several other tweets about venus' exaltation in pisces and how venus relates to our satisfaction:

pisces is also the final sign, associated with the very last house of the wheel, the 12H (where saturn rejoices). showing how most beautiful things appear right before their ending

a flower blooming, a butterfly spreading its wings, how people have wonderful visions before they die. phrases such as “aging like fine wine” embody this concept (saturn governs aging, pisces governs wine)

venus in pisces in an absolutely wonderful placement that provides people with gentle, creative personalities and an ability to resolve conflict easily between others. many famous artists, actors, and musicians have their natal venus in pisces !!

NOTABLE FIGURES WITH VENUS IN PISCES: nathalie emmanuel, mariska hargitay, barbra streisand, sarah jessica parker, kerry washington, marc jacobs, reese witherspoon, kurt cobain, natasha lyonne

if you have any questions about venus in pisces, let me know in the replies :)

book a reading !!

my linktree

[iamafanofcartoons]

Not going to lie, but I wish CRWBY brought over some of the writers that worked on the anthology manga to work on the show (if they haven't already). I read all of Team RWBY's (haven't seen Shine yet), but the manga had moments that I wish we got to see more of from the main team. Stuff like seeing more of Yang's and Ruby's childhood while Tai was out of it, Blake having more time to just relax, Weiss growing out of her ice shell, and even Ruby getting some expansion. I know a lot of it's non cannon, but it was all a fun read for me and makes me hope we get moments like these in the canon show.

My main concern is how a number of them could get misinterpreted.

Furthermore, the toxicity of certain people who will get upset at Miles, Kerry, Eddy, Kiersi, etc simply for working with the Manga Writers would be ridiculous.

Still, its an interesting idea!

I'm not opposed to it, but its not my call to make.

RWBY will forever be a melting pot of ideas and possibilities.

This is certainly one such example.

[the-archangel]

Finally!

We've all waited for it to happen, for weeks and weeks we've hung on, finally it does and V is awestruck - and maybe Johnny is too. Also, it's accidentally exactly 1000 words long and still very little happens!

“It’s 4AM V, go the fuck back to sleep.”

V had been tossing and turning for hours, Johnny could sleep through that, but now he’s (albeit very quietly) talking to someone over the holo and that’s just a step too far.

“Gimme a minute,” the merc whispers softly to whoever is in the other end of the call, “Just fuck off if I’m disturbing your beauty sleep, no one asked you to lurk on the side of my bed.” he hisses to Johnny.

“Where else am I going to go in the middle of the night? Sides, I’ve been looking after your interests.” V looks at the Rockerboy quizzically. “The egg moves…”

V follows Johnny’s eyes over to the other side of the room, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask what new gonkery Johnny had dreamt up to stop him talking to Kerry when he saw it, the egg moved. “I’ll call you back.” he tells his new input and crawls over the bedding to sit next to his imaginary friend. “What’s it doing?” he asks in hushed tones.

“How the fuck should I know?” Johnny replies, “and why are we whispering?”

V shrugs, if he’s honest the stupid egg had been sat in that bowl for so long he’d presumed it was a lost cause, but there it was rattling around the ceramic and making a gentle tapping noise. “How long’s it been, y’know, moving?”

“Couple of hours. Few more and you’ll be living the high life.”

Johnny receives another confused look, “What?”

“Think of the eddies V, there’s idiots who’ll pay through the nose for an iguana.”

They sit staring a little while longer as the egg jumps and skitters around the bowl, “What’s an iguana?”

The exasperated look Johnny gives V is almost audible, “It’s a lizard,” he tells him surprisingly patiently, “mostly found in South America. Though where a low-rent merc like you found it I can’t imagine. Been looking at that thing for months wondering if it was ever going to do something.”

V goes over to the bowl crouching until it’s at eye level and looking with child-like wonder as a tiny crack appears in the shell. “Got it from Yorinobou’s suite at Konpeki Plaza, wasn’t even sure the lizard was real, it was just sitting there like some kind of weird statue. Thought the egg would make a preem souvenir… though it turns out I got more than one of them that day.”

Johnny nods, “Shoulda maybe stopped at the lizard.” He looks at the back of V’s head waiting for a reaction, receiving none he crouches down beside him joining the vigil. “Look, you can see it through the crack.”

Sure enough, movement can be seen through the growing crack, a tiny nibbling action working on expanding the hole and making an escape.

“I used to know a guy in the market in Japantown that traded in exotic shit like this, doubt he’s still there but someone over there’s bound to still do shady lizard related dealings.” V nods in a non-committal way, he’s mesmerised by the newly revealed pink nose poking through the gap with every nibble. “Ten thousand at least,” Johnny continues, “prolly more, if you’re lucky there’s a few gonks out there ready to get into a bidding war for a super-rare dude like this one.”

“Jackie would’ve really loved this,” V murmurs wistfully, “he’d be calling Misty over so they could sit and watch it together thinking of names and picking out tanks.”

“Yeah well, you’ve just got me. Call it Eddie and let someone else do the hard work.”

The two men continue to stare at the slowly dissolving egg, mesmerised by the emerging hatchling. When nothing appears to happen for several seconds the pair exchange worried looks, but the tiny animal is merely taking a breather from its hard work and soon resumes the destruction of its former home. More of its face is revealed, big eyes and bright green skin, a pink tongue helping it gulp down its first meal. V’s face softens, this may be the most magical thing he’s ever witnessed – apart from that one guy who miraculously came back to life after V’s blades cut his head off, but that was more a cyberware malfunction than an actual miracle.

“What do iguanas eat?”

“How the fuck should I know, bugs or some shit. It’ll do just fine in here.”

V considers giving Johnny a dark look for that crack, but he has a point; Nibbles is often noisily wrestling some sort of wildlife in the middle of the night.

“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping it? Think of the eddies!”

Both pair of eyes swing back to the tiny lizard drawn by the sound of the egg shell quietly falling to one side allowing the hatchling to push itself free and lay panting in the detritus. It’s intelligent eyes roam curiously around the room finally focusing on a surprised Johnny who lifts a finger to stroke it’s head. “It can see me!” He marvels as the creature preens under his touch.

“There’s a tank at Jackie’s place we could use,” muses V.

“Nah, this one’s a free spirit. Let it have the run of the place, it can share bug duties with your ugly cat.”

“The ugly cat you spend most of the day murmuring to whilst you’re both curled up on the couch?”

“Only cuz you’re such shit company. Look, it wants to get out of the bowl”

V gently lets the lizard skitter onto his hand and holds it up to look it over. Johnny leans in looking over V’s shoulder and the men have matching smiles as the hatchling’s tail wraps around V’s wrist. “I think I’m gonna call it Jack.” The brown eyes look straight into V’s and seem to approve.

“Yeah, that’s a good name, I’m just gonna, y’know keep an eye on it for while.”

“You do that Johnny.” Says V grinning.

[r3d-f0xs-blog]

Too Loud

Another prompt short fic. Voss is autistic (like me) so the prompt was perfect to show one part of that in his life. It's a long read but hope you enjoy.

The day started well enough for Voss. Breakfast was leisurely, Kerry had made effort to cook. Eggs broken into a bowl, the shells making a crisp crunch on the edge. The light scrape of the whisk beating them into a froth then sizzling in the pan. The coffee machine chimed above the music and Kerry’s singing along to the song.

“Somebody’s happy.” Voss chirped. China clinked sharply as he hunted for his favoured mug in the cupboard.

“Should get the last pieces to this track laid down today.” Kerry smiled over his shoulder. The slotted turner made a plasticy scrape as he loosened the omelette. The sizzling intensified when he flipped it over. Voss could almost feel it but the sensation passed once it settled to a gentle fry.

Voss set the table, felt his jaw clench at the sound of metal and ceramic being placed down. He brushed it away. He was just hungry and he wasn’t always a morning person.

Voss sighed when the cooking sounds stopped and all that was left was to eat.

“You alright? You seem a little tense.” Kerry asked as he slid a hand under the table onto Voss' knee and gave it a shake.

“Hmmm? Oh, just a little noisy. I think I’ll be okay once I’ve eaten.” Voss looked over at the touch. “Counting on it because my schedule is full.”

For the home of a rockstar, it was pretty quiet. Thick glazing blocked out all but the loudest of the city noise. For Voss, riding into the city on his bike was like diving into the sounds. The deeper into the city the more the sounds wrapped around him, worming into his ears. Voss' helmet muffled much of it, the rest was drowned by the sound of the motorbike engine as he rode to the Afterlife.

His phone rang, insistent, demanding. The vibrations like an angry hornet trapped in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Voss sighed sharply as he dug it out to answer, composing himself before he spoke.

“Hello, Voss speaking.” He managed to arrange a cordial tone. Breakfast wasn’t quite having the desired effect yet.

The caller’s voice grated against his ears and Voss found himself struggling to digest what he was hearing.

“Could I call you later? I’m a little pressed for time as I’ve a client to meet soon so would be better if I can give you my full attention at a more convenient time. I’ve some time at thirteen-hundred.”

They made some confirmatory sounds and apologised.

“Thanks for understanding.” Voss heard himself say. Standard reply he had in store for biz. Kept it all smooth and even. Made them feel better for the inadvertent disruption.

“Please don’t be all day. I don’t need this today.” He sighed to himself and massaged his temples. He ran his fingers through his hair flattened by his helmet.

First up was the client meeting. Rogue had Voss on this one to gather the deets and start coming up with a plan of action for her. The bar was already busy. Voss half heard the calls of his name and waved, smiled as he passed them by. Claire must’ve seen as she waved and gestured towards Rogue's booth. The bar music was pounding like the sound of blood pulsing in his ears when he was caught in a fight on a gig.

“Voss.” Rogue nodded and motioned for him to sit. Coffee was already on the table.

“Private booth is all yours. Client is running late but we can extend the time to make up for it.” She explained.

“Mind if I go and set up? Unless you’ve got more deets for me?” Voss asked and sipped his coffee.

“Nothing. It’s all on you so make sure you don’t miss a thing.”

Voss nodded and took himself to the booth in the back. He sat and kept himself sink into the couch and the empty silence, savouring it while he could.

Two hours of almost constant chatter, questions, answers, information to be analysed and picked through. Voss felt like his ears were about to fall off or were still reverberating with the talk. The client left. Voss checked they were gone out of the room before he stood up and swung his arms, wrapping them around himself into a tight squeeze.

“Fuck! I thought that was never going to end!” he sighed aloud.

His phone began to ring. The chime somehow seemed to ring inside the booth, amplified instead of dulled as it should be with the soundproofing. It cut through the air.

Voss let out a sharp breath. It was time for the call again. He knew he’d said yes to it but he couldn’t stand to hear the nasal drone. It wasn’t their fault. It would only take five minutes.

The call over, Voss tapped out a draft of his analysis for Rogue while it was fresh. The keyboard unfortunately was one off those old style ones where the keys clicked and clicked. He couldn’t help it, years attached to a computer and desk had honed his typing so the words rattled out and onto the screen. His jaw tightened at the repetitive tapping like machine gun bursts. It was made worse by the metal alloy of his fingers. Voss blazed through the report, fired it away to Rogue.

He leaned back in the chair, it made a long, high pitched squeak. Voss sprang up out of the chair.

“Oh fuck this!” he cursed and stomped out to the main bar area. “Rogue, the report is done. Just a draft but I’ll think more on what else we can do. Need your input of course. I’ve got some things to deal with but if you need more...argh just text me first please.”

He spoke quickly, almost stumbling over his own words tripping over the other thoughts that ran in parallel with the matter at hand. Voss snapped his mouth shut. His own voice sounded like a babble to his own ears. He knew it wasn’t, but he had to keep Rogue from seeing the itchy feet he had to get out and deal with the rest of his schedule.

Helmet shoved onto his head. The rumble of the motorbike. A temporary relief. Voss rode into the centre of the city. Most days he’d be looking forward to it. It was a hum and buzz he’d been brought up with but today his brain decided it was not one of those days.

Wheels squeaked on the smooth concrete as he rode around the car park. The sound made his teeth feel on edge and his ears itch. The sounds echoed adding another layer to his discomfort, bouncing off the walls and around his head. He parked quickly in the first bike space he could find. The helmet was off. Keeping it on was a sure way to get the NCPD in his business even although it meant his ears wouldn’t be assailed on the walk to Jinguji.

Problem with the centre was the corporate AVs, people running around like ants, getting too close. Traffic was non-stop. Phones, advertising. Buy this! You need this! Eat! Drink! Give us your Eddies! Slogans, catchy tunes, exaggerated voices to hook your ear and shove their advertising into your memory banks for later. Voss hated it. Much as he tried to tune it out in some quiet moment his brain would jumpscare him with a perfect rendition of the latest Chromanticore advert, or play a branding tune on loop until he could listen to something else.

The facing of the Jinguj shop came into view just up the street. The glass doors slid open silently and bathed Voss in calm, serene quiet. He took a moment to let his mind settle as gentle music played in the background.

“Rough day, sir?” the security guard asked him. Their voice was deep but pitched low so it wouldn’t be obtrusive above the quiet.

“Could say that, could say that.” Voss answered honestly. “We’ve had worse days here though.” He grinned.

“Got that right!” the guard laughed. He had been the only guard to survive the cyberpsycho attack that had made Voss a popular face in the store.

“Voss! Sharp as ever!” Zane cheered as he sauntered towards him. “Everything is ready. I’ve picked put some new arrivals I think are worthy additions for you to try on.”

Voss forced a smile hoping it wasn’t too stiff or strained to be convincing.

“Zane! Amazing! Thank you!” Voss beamed.

“No time like the present, follow me.” Zane beckoned.

Voss followed. He was abruptly jarred put of his peace by a tray of drinks presented towards him.

“Oh, no thank you, I’m riding home on the bike today.” He remembered the words to say. It would have been easier to have said nothing but he didn’t want to come across as ungracious.

“Suit number...fifteen?” Voss wondered aloud as he looked at himself in the mirror. He straightened the jacket so it sat on his shoulders better.

“Eighteen!” Zane gushed. “That looks exquisite. Fits you perfectly although I’m not so sure the colour is doing anything for you so...as it’s for the special day.”

Zane picked up a shallow box and opened it up.

“Jinguji let me show you a selection of fabrics. They would be honoured to make you a unique, not to be worn by anybody else, version of a suit of your choosing to your specification. Anything you want.” Zane dazzled.

Voss looked at the case then back at the mirror as Zane draped a sample of fabric over his shoulder. He barely heard what Zane said to him, it was all noise buzzing inside his brain. He hung his head and squeezed his hands repeatedly. He wanted to do something else but couldn’t, not around Zane and the others attending the appointment.

“I...Zane I really appreciate this. It’s a lot to take in at once and I want to get this right. So do you. Do you mind if I cut this short? Please? I need to bring a friend to help.” Voss blurted.

He saw he had caught Zane mid-sentence. Zane smiled.

“I forgot. I’m so sorry Voss. This was a lot.” He put a hand on his arm. “I’ve got a record of the ones we thought worked so I can keep those in mind for next time. Absolutely, bring a friend. I’d love to meet them.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’m...” Voss began.

“No. No need for an apology. I should have kept that accommodation in mind for you. I will make sure it is in place for next time.” Zane insisted. “Contact us at your leisure. Jinguji always has time for you both.”

Voss sighed in relief as he left and got changed.

The walk back to his bike was no relief. If anything the night made the city louder somehow. Adverts seemed to scream at Voss. Cars roared. People, people, people and voices surrounded him. The sounds of the city drowning out his thoughts. All but one.

“Home!” Voss felt like screaming when he pulled on his helmet and flipped the visor down. His mind still roared, the sounds as he rode out, a cacophony. His head pounded, his heart beating faster. Too much!

The palm fronds rustling in the wind harsh on his ears. Voss knew he couldn’t silence them but how he wanted to scream at them to shut up. He pressed his lips together knowing if he did shout there’d probably be some media snooping close enough to hear and conjure up some fake story from it.

The jacket was thrown off, boots left by the door. Voss hunted around and found exactly what he needed.

“Voss?” Kerry called out. “Where are you?”

The rocker had left his guitar case by the grand piano and picked up Nibbles when she came up to greet him.

“Where’s Foxy, huh, little stinker?” Kerry grinned as he scratched behind her ears.

He found Voss on the couch downstairs, sprawled out on his back, headphones on and music blasting loud enough for him to hear. He looked over wearily at Kerry but smiled all the same. Voss knew from the soft look in Kerry’s eyes that he didn’t need to overexplain.

“Today. Today it was all too loud.” Voss murmured as he took the headphones off.

“So drowning it out with something louder?” Kerry chuckled.

“It just makes sense!” Voss giggled.

“You know it does to me.” Kerry tumbled Voss' hair. “Need anything, babe?”

“Cuddle and then food?” Voss asked.

“That I can do.” Kerry joined Voss on the couch. “Come here, I call this one Snuggling Samurai.” Kerry said as he pulled Voss in for a hug.

[quasarlasar]

HURAKAN SUMMONING BERYL

Here is the color drawing of my version of the storm god Hurakan summoning Beryl. As I mentioned before, Hurakan wants Beryl to be his retribution upon humanity for making his job of protecting the tropical climate and oceans much harder, but Beryl feels conflicted about this, because she knows that hurricanes when they strike land inevitably die and then end up hurting people that don't deserve it. They cannot target their rage.

In my original sketch Hurakan's staff had two lanterns, that were meant to represent the orange lanterns hung in harbors as the equivalent of the hurricane flag at night. Unfortunately for the likes of me I couldn't find a reference photo for these lanterns, so I just replaced them with the hurricane flag. I should note hurricane flags were discontinued in the 1980s.

I briefly experimented in my drawing of Laura and Marco with making Hurakan have green skin...in Mayan art he was depicted with green skin. However I felt it made him look sickly, when he's supposed to clearly be strong. So I went back to the more bluish color I had for him in my drawing of him sending out Hurricane Harvey.

I made the conch shell around his neck specifically a queen conch as that is the main species of conch shell used as a wind instrument in the Caribbean. In Kerry Emanuel's book Divine Wind, he talks about how the Taino illustrated Hurakan blowing in conch shells to summon hurricane winds, so I figured maybe that could be how he sometimes gives them commands.

I made his left eye hollow like a hurricane's eye, while his right eye is perpetually hidden by his hair. His hair is meant to vaguely resemble a hurricane's rainbands while still looking like hair.

It should be obvious by now that this is not meant to be a version of Hurakan 100% accurate to the myths. I just think it’s cool the word “hurricane” derives from the name of an actual storm god. (“Typhoon” and “cyclone” don’t have quite so interesting an etymology). I was planning for him to play a major role in future Allies of Gaia stories...assuming I ever get around to finishing them of course.

[merge-conflict]

🔎 the search for october 🔍

tagged by @luvwich (bare, disgust, feed, plastic, silence) and @ghostoffuturespast (eyes, dive, water, corner, shudder) Switched it up a little this time to alternate because why the hell not. :3 Starting out strong with a little gender lust and what is technically a twofer making the last one a bonus.

bare [thread safe]

“Very good,” [V] murmurs, licking the shell of [Goro's] ear and making him shudder. Seeing his bare chest sparks the same envy she felt the first time she’d seen it– sparks her desire to crawl under his skin and become him the way Johnny became her. Sitting like this, with her body framing his, she can almost believe it’s possible. “Pretend I’m not here.”

eyes [when her edges soften]

She turned to him briefly, teeth flashing in the dim light. “You want me to say it? Fine: You were right, Johnny. This is my kind of fucking place.”

It was. He had enjoyed it on his first visit, but he liked it better watching through her eyes. The thing about V was that under that fresh coat of corpo veneer she was an animal– and one of the only people he knew who instinctively took to it. He knew because he had felt her savoring it when the mood struck her, chasing the exhilarating high without a hint of shame. Plenty of mercs wanted to be bloodthirsty and carefree, but had to dope themselves into it. V was just the opposite.

disgust [the damn things overlap]

V rose to her feet in stages, feeling heavy and threadbare. She turned off the lights and the room was plunged in deep blues, brushed here and there by the red and orange of the heating coils. Goro’s eyes followed her, irises dark, his pupils shining faintly with reflected light. He stood when she drifted closer, tense like he was waiting for something to happen.

“There,” she said, quietly. “Now you know all of my shameful secrets. Be all my sins remember’d.”

The words came easier than she had thought they would. For once she didn’t feel the shiver of self-revulsion or disgust. She was just tired, and a little buzzed, and possessed by the urge to touch him and make sure he was still real.

dive [fleeting fits of reason]

Mostly Johnny sat, and got drunk, and played until he re-opened the raw skin of his fingers, too impatient to slowly build up his calluses. Sometimes he disappeared for hours, out driving around in one of Kerry’s cars, hitting up some dive bar at the edge of town that catered mostly to nomads and anyone too down on their luck to make it entirely in or out of the city.

V had been a ghost for at least two days, and Kerry only knew she was around because the mugs in the kitchen occasionally moved. She was partial to the novelty mug that swirled iridescent colors with temperature changes– it was the only dish he’d ever seen her wash. Whether she was avoiding Johnny or just him he wasn’t sure. The entire villa felt like those last few Samurai roadshows, when everyone knew it was about to explode, but nobody wanted to be the one to light the match.

feed [fleeting fits of reason]

The first notification [Alt] receives that is early in the morning, the strength of Johnny’s adrenaline response overriding several other weighted variables. She sees what he sees, time shifted by several seconds after she frees her attention. There’s not much for her to see, except that the decreased frequency of his dreams have not been accompanied by a decrease in intensity. When he catches his breath he moves to swing his legs out of bed and then stops for no reason she can discern, watching the sleeping forms of V and Kerry. His eyes linger on the rise and fall of their chests, the place where their shoulders touch– she dismisses the feed and returns to working through Smasher’s black box.

water [the damn things overlap]

“Everyone here has one job,” [V] murmured. “Keeping on schedule. Come hell or high water, everything has to be ready.”

“They did not even scan your face.”

“Contractors aren’t in the main database. Decade or so ago Militech got into the HR system off access from a local vendor, whole big shitshow.” It had been before her time in CounterIntel, but the incident had left behind a scar that was not so easily forgotten.

plastic [the damn things overlap]

V stayed only as long as she was able, seeing the room through Goro’s expression as he surveyed the damage. Everything else was a hostile smear of color and texture, threatened by the overwhelming ringing of fading gunshots and adrenaline. She returned up the stairs, past the clinic room and into the small waiting area. It was dark and deserted still, and she sank into one of the cheerfully colored plastic chairs, leaning forward with her elbows propped up on her knees.

corner [the damn things overlap]

“Maybe I just came here to smack you around,” [V] mused, stepping closer, boxing [Hellman] into the corner his cot made with the wall. “Just to make myself feel better about my inevitably painful ending, and one of the assholes responsible.”

He withdrew into himself, and she could see he was deciding whether or not to fight back. “I didn’t make you put that shard in your head. Is that why you are here? Is Silverhand’s influence corrupting you so quickly?”

silence [the damn things overlap]

“Mm. The proper punishment for all traitors.” [Goro] turned his head, breath sending chills up and down her spine. “And such disloyalty must be punished.”

V shivered; her teeth ached. There was a procedure for that sort of thing, clean and professional, no warning and no mess. Plenty of paperwork. But this wasn’t just some exec jumping ship or getting too greedy. No member of the board had so much as hinted at public opposition of Yorinobu’s rise to power. Doubtless all of them had their own private plans, but the silence spoke volumes. On that level, the entire matter could be solved quite easily through a visit to the next physical board meeting, like the one that was sure to confirm Yorinobu as head of the company. And Arasaka knew when to be showy, knew when bloody and brutal was a better lesson than a suddenly vacant chair.

shudder [the damn things overlap]

The space where V should have been was blank. Like static on the tv, bright empty white and black pixels, a low hiss like something being vaporized. Focusing too much on it was making her heart race, her lungs shudder. Her left hand felt like it was caught in a net, and though [Johnny] instinctively tried to move he could only make her fingers twitch.

All at once whatever was under her hand moved, and he managed to peel back her eyelids just enough to see the deep shades of blue that made up her nightvision. It was Takemura, raising his head, V’s fingers still tangled in his hair, which meant this was really not a situation Johnny wanted to be in.

<V, time to wake up!> He might as well have been screaming into the void. <Fuck me, if you die on me here, the first thing I’m going to do is dye your hair black. You listening?>

---

Tagging @corpocyborg, @another-corpo-rat, @corphoe, and anyone who wants to play and hasn't already been tagged :3 with heat, shot, luck, elbow, death

[anamoon63]

Not everything went wrong for Dale on the first day of school. Still at El Grotto, he had the opportunity to meet Kerri Shell, a beautiful and interesting vampire girl. Dale doesn't remember ever meeting anyone like her before.

Kerri is actually very pretty, but Dale has promised to be faithful to Kelly, so… Dale: (to himself) Geez, are all vampire woman this beautiful?

Kelly is nearby and has just detected the danger. Dale promised her he'd be faithful, and she believes him, but a vampire girl is a bigger word. She can't leave him alone with her, but she also doesn't want to look like one of those toxic girlfriends who follows her man everywhere to keep an eye on him. She'll have to approach him under some kind of pretext.

[awardseason]

Oscars 2023 — Winners

Best Picture “All Quiet on the Western Front” “Avatar: The Way of Water” “The Banshees of Inisherin” “Elvis” “Everything Everywhere All at Once” — WINNER “The Fabelmans” “TÁR” “Top Gun: Maverick” “Triangle of Sadness” “Women Talking”

Best Director Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) — WINNER Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”) Todd Field (“TÁR”) Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Actress Cate Blanchett (“TÁR”) Ana de Armas (“Blonde”) Andrea Riseborough (“To Leslie”) Michelle Williams (“The Fabelmans”) Michelle Yeoh (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) — WINNER

Best Actor Austin Butler (“Elvis”) Colin Farrell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brendan Fraser (“The Whale”) — WINNER Paul Mescal (“Aftersun”) Bill Nighy (“Living”)

Best Supporting Actress Angela Bassett (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”) Hong Chau (“The Whale”) Kerry Condon (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Stephanie Hsu (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) Jamie Lee Curtis (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) — WINNER

Best Supporting Actor Brendan Gleeson (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Brian Tyree Henry (“Causeway”) Judd Hirsch (“The Fabelmans”) Barry Keoghan (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Ke Huy Quan (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) — WINNER

Best International Feature Film “All Quiet on the Western Front” (Edward Berger, Germany) — WINNER “Argentina, 1985” (Santiago Mitre, Argentina) “Close” (Lukas Dhont, Belgium) “EO” (Poland) “The Quiet Girl” (Ireland)

Best Adapted Screenplay Edward Berger, Ian Stokell, and Lesley Paterson (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) Rian Johnson (“Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery”) Kazuo Ishiguro (“Living”) Ehren Kruger, Christopher McQuarrie, and Eric Warren Singer (“Top Gun: Maverick”) Sarah Polley (“Women Talking”) — WINNER

Best Original Screenplay Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”) — WINNER Todd Field (“TÁR”) Tony Kushner and Steven Spielberg (“The Fabelmans”) Martin McDonagh (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Ruben Östlund (“Triangle of Sadness”)

Best Animated Feature “Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio” — WINNER “Marcel the Shell with Shoes On”  “Turning Red”  “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish”  “The Sea Beast” 

Best Cinematography James Friend (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) — WINNER Darius Khondji (“Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths”) Mandy Walker (“Elvis”) Roger Deakins (“Empire of Light”) Florian Hoffmeister (“Tár”)

Best Visual Effects “Avatar: The Way of Water” — WINNER “All Quiet on the Western Front” “The Batman” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” “Top Gun: Maverick”

Best Editing “Elvis”  “Everything Everywhere All at Once”— WINNER “Top Gun: Maverick”  “TÁR”  “The Banshees of Inisherin”

Best Production Design “Avatar: The Way of Water” “All Quiet on the Western Front” — WINNER “Babylon”  “Elvis” “The Fabelmans”

Best Makeup and Hairstyling “Elvis”  “The Batman”  “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”  “All Quiet on the Western Front” “The Whale” — WINNER

Best Costume Design “Elvis” “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever” (Ruth E. Carter) — WINNER “Everything Everywhere All at Once”  “Babylon”  “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”

Best Sound “Top Gun: Maverick” — WINNER “Elvis”  “Avatar: The Way of Water”  “All Quiet on the Western Front”  “The Batman”

Best Original Song “Hold My Hand” — Lady Gaga (“Top Gun: Maverick”) “Lift Me Up”— Rihanna (“Black Panther: Wakanda Forever”) “Naatu Naatu”— Kaala Bhairava, M.M. Keeravani, and Rahul Sipligunj (“RRR”) — WINNER “Applause”— Diane Warren (“Tell It Like a Woman”) “This Is a Life”— David Byrne, Ryan Lott, and Mitski (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Original Score Justin Hurwitz (“Babylon”) John Williams (“The Fabelmans”) Volker Bertelmann (“All Quiet on the Western Front”) — WINNER Carter Burwell (“The Banshees of Inisherin”) Son Lux (“Everything Everywhere All at Once”)

Best Documentary Feature “All That Breathes” “All the Beauty and the Bloodshed” “Fire of Love” “A House Made of Splinters” “Navalny” — WINNER

Best Documentary Short Subject “The Elephant Whisperers” — WINNER “Haulout” “How Do You Measure a Year?” “The Martha Mitchell Effect” “Stranger at the Gate”

Best Live Action Short “An Irish Goodbye” — WINNER “Ivalu” “Le Pupille” “Night Ride” “The Red Suitcase”

Best Animated Short “The Flying Sailor” “The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse” — WINNER “Ice Merchants” “My Year of Dicks” “An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It”

[battlelegendsredandblue]

Red vs Kerry!

( @contest-winning-pest )

[A video is posted!: Li- The Mienshao has a twinkle in its eye as it stares down its opponent, Kerry seems to have one as well, though with a hand on her chin in thought. On the other side of the field, Red has a poker face, but his Lapras doesn’t. It having a bit of a steely gaze. Understandable given the Type weakness.

The rain is already around them, making small puddles in the etching of the wood. The Expert Belt Li’s wearing waving in the wind. Something Red’s Lapras doesn’t look thrilled about. Still, Red points a finger at Li, and not intentionally in turn, Kerry. Lapras sending Confuse Ray towards it. Li jumps away, but the Ray hits. Dizzy, Li’s fur swings toward the Lapras’ shell. It makes contact, the Lapras falling back from the force. Li happily looking better from the previous attacks, Drain Punch.

The drizzle stays up in the air as there’s a few options each trainer could take. The sky crackles for a moment and Thunder hits Li hard. Once again there’s another Drain Punch to take back the health stolen.

More Thunder, zapping Li, if there was another one, its fur would possibly look like a cotton ball with all the static electricity. At low health, it could go for another Drain Punch, but the move had ran out of energy. So, instead, though the Lapras was slower, if this Thunder possibly paralyzed again- Force Palm!

But dizzy and confused, Li had to blink lights out of its eyes, that Force Palm instead Forcing it to stumble back, whipping itself in the face. Another zap of electricity being insult to injury, it being slowed down now.

A final Ice Shard before Li could even move called the battle, the ice twinkling just like Li and its trainer had been before.]

[thekyterion]

TOP 10 FILMS OF 2022

In a year full of huge blockbusters, record-breaking indies and a sequel for just about every movie ever made, here are my top 10 films of 2022.

“Aftersun” (dir. Charlotte Wells): An incredibly personal, poignant and heartbreaking directorial debut with performances for the ages from Frankie Corio and Paul Mescal. Following a father and daughter on holiday, the film’s editing and sound design also stand out in this 96 minute emotional masterwork. I’d type more but I’d start crying. Seriously.

“Babylon” (dir. Damien Chazelle): A three hour spectacle of filmmaking and the perils of transitioning through one’s career as the environment around you shifts uncontrollably. Chazelle goes back to his “Whiplash” roots, with tension dialed up to 10 for most of the film, especially the final hour. Diego Calva leads the film perfectly, Margot Robbie gives one of the best performances of the year, and the entire supporting cast (especially Jovan Adepo) are phenomenal. Brilliant crafts and one of my favorite endings in recent memory. Definitely worth the big-screen experience.

“The Banshees of Inisherin” (dir. Martin McDonough): The perfect encapsulation of the deterioration of a friendship that should not go to the levels it does. The entire cast is superb, with all four stars (Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon, and Barry Keoghan) deserving of awards recognition and will likely be huge threats in their respective acting categories. It’s a gorgeous film that is absolutely hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time, with a thesis that leaves you questioning everything but also never once lets you pick sides in the central battle. And it only gets better and funnier on each rewatch.

“EO” (dir. Jerry Skolimowski): One of the most immersive cinematic experiences I have ever had. The film, Poland’s submission for Best International Feature, places you directly in the eyes of a donkey named EO as he ventures across Europe and the many types of people and perils the world requires you to face, should you be brave enough to venture outside into them. Despite never saying a word, the film uses its breathtaking cinematography and sensory-inducing editing to allow you to understand everything EO does on an incredibly emotional level unlike anything I have ever witnessed.

“Everything Everywhere All at Once” (dirs. Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert): The best and most original film I’ve seen in years. I’ve spoken so much about my absolute love for this film. I saw it 8 times in theaters in 2022, including one screening in IMAX at the TCL Chinese Theatre (which was life-altering). The multiverse masterpiece follows Michelle Yeoh playing a woman who just wants to do her taxes, but finds herself trapped in an inter-dimensional war that affects her current universe all too much. Stephanie Hsu and Ke Huy Quan deserve Oscars for the heart and soul they are able to bring to the film, and Yeoh is my pick for Best Actress, brilliantly balancing every version of her character within a film that changes genres so quickly and dramatically. A brilliant feat of filmmaking.

“Living” (dir. Oliver Hermanus): Based on the 1952 Akira Kurosawa film “Ikiru”, “Living” centers on a man (Bill Nighy) who is coming to terms with his impending death and understanding what it means to be alive and live. Nighy is brilliant and leads the film with impeccably perfect acting, and the film ponders and allows for many questions about life. It’s simply beautiful and never goes where you think, despite being given a road map at the start of the film. If I left the film with anything, it’s that what we choose to do with the time we have matters.

“Marcel the Shell with Shoes On” (dir. Dean Fleischer-Camp): A feature length film based on the YouTube short films, Fleischer-Camp returns to the world of Marcel with star Jenny Slate back as the voice of the a tiny shell you will instantly fall in love with. It’s a stop-motion animation marvel that is able to beautifully combine genres together and never once feels like the bit is going on too long. You’ll want to stay with Marcel for a very long time, and he, once you see the film, will stay with you.

“Nope” (dir. Jordan Peele): Yep. Peele leads Daniel Kaluuya, Keke Palmer, Steven Yeun and Brandon Perea, among others, in this beautifully complex and terrifying thriller that never once goes where you think it will. Peele gives all the puzzle pieces to us in the first watch, but repeated viewings continue to make the puzzle more complete. With some of the best crafts and scenes of the year, especially the score, “Nope” proves that Jordan Peele isn’t running out of brilliant ideas anytime soon.

“TÁR” (dir. Todd Field): Cate Blanchette is terrifying and brilliant as Lydia Tár, a conductor preparing for one of the biggest career achievements of her life while also dealing with the consequences of her previous actions. The film asks some incredibly difficult questions and, even with a daunting 158 minute runtime, doesn’t leave anything unanswered. The film at times feels like a horror film, and is incredibly tense and filled with flashes and visions of the past. Repeated viewings will reward with hidden ghosts and a greater understanding of Todd Field’s vision as a writer and Blanchette’s performance, both of which cannot be praised highly enough and will be huge and deserved contenders during awards season.

“Women Talking” (dir. Sarah Polley): The ensemble of the year, the film follows a group of Mennonite women who are discussing the best course of action to take after an incredibly dark discovery. Polley bakes in the questions of what it means to have a voice and how it can be silenced without realization. The entire cast is absolutely astounding (Claire Foy, in particular, gives a stellar performance), and the score and cinematography are simply stunning. It’s a film that asks hard questions and deals with even harder subject matters, but still remains hopeful even in the darkest of moments.

Score: “정훈희” (Jeong Hun Hi or Jeong Hoon-hee) (안개(Fog) 1967)” from “Decision to Leave” (dir. Park Chan-wook)

[weclassybouquetfun]

One more awards show down. We next have the SAG Awards (Feb. 26th), the Independent Spirit Awards (Mar. 4th) and the Oscars (Mar. 12th).

I must say if we get these exact same winners for the major category at the Oscars I would be very happy.

Except for score. If Justin Hurwitz doesn't win an Oscar for the BABYLON score I tear the Dolby down.

The Winners and host Richard E. Grant

Leading Actress Viola Davis, The Woman King Danielle Deadwyler, Till Ana De Armas, Blonde Emma Thompson, Good Luck To You, Leo Grande Michelle Yeoh, Everything Everywhere All At Once Cate Blanchett, Tár – WINNER

Leading Actor Colin Farrell, The Banshees Of Inisherin Brendan Fraser, The Whale Daryl Mccormack, Good Luck To You, Leo Grande Paul Mescal, Aftersun Bill Nighy, Living Austin Butler, Elvis – WINNER

Supporting Actor Brendan Gleeson, The Banshees Of Inisherin Ke Huy Quan, Everything Everywhere All At Once Eddie Redmayne, The Good Nurse Albrecht Schuch, All Quiet On The Western Front Micheal Ward, Empire Of Light Barry Keoghan, The Banshees Of Inisherin – WINNER *He thanked his baby Brando.

Supporting Actress Angela Bassett, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Hong Chau, The Whale Dolly De Leon, Triangle Of Sadness Jamie Lee Curtis, Everything Everywhere All At Once Carey Mulligan, She Said Kerry Condon, The Banshees Of Inisherin – WINNER

Best Film

The Banshees Of Inisherin

Elvis

Everything Everywhere All At Once

Tár

All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER

Outstanding British Film

The Banshees Of Inisherin – WINNER

Aftersun

Brian And Charles

Empire Of Light

Good Luck To You, Leo Grande

Living

Roald Dahl’s Matilda The Musical

See How They Run

The Swimmers

The Wonder

MORE WINNERS AND FASHION

Director Edward Berger, All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER Martin McDonagh, The Banshees Of Inisherin Park Chan-Wook, Decision To Leave Daniel Sheinert, Everything Everywhere All At Once Todd Field, Tár Gina Prince-Bythewood, The Woman King

EE Rising Star Award (Voted For By The Public)  Emma Mackey – WINNER Aimee Lou Wood Daryl Mccormack Naomi Ackie Sheila Atim

Make Up & Hair Elvis – WINNER All Quiet On The Western Front The Batman Roald Dahl’s Matilda The Musical The Whale

Production Design Babylon– WINNER All Quiet On The Western Front The Batman Elvis Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio

British Short Animation  The Boy, The Mole, The Fox And The Horse– WINNER Middle Watch Your Mountain Is Waiting

British Short Film  An Irish Goodbye – WINNER The Ballad Of Olive Morris Bazigaga Bus Girl A Drifting Up

Costume Design Elvis – WINNER All Quiet On The Western Front Amsterdam Babylon Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris

Sound All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER Avatar: The Way Of Water Elvis Tár  Top Gun: Maverick

Original Score  All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER Babylon The Banshees Of Inisherin Everything Everywhere All At Once Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio

Documentary Navalny – WINNER All That Breathes All The Beauty And The Bloodshed Fire Of Love Moonage Daydream

Special Visual Effects Avatar: The Way Of Water – WINNER All Quiet On The Western Front The Batman Everything Everywhere All At Once Top Gun: Maverick

Original Screenplay The Banshees Of Inisherin – WINNER Everything Everywhere All At Once The Fabelmans Tár Triangle Of Sadness

Animated Film Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio – WINNER Marcel The Shell With Shoes On Puss In Boots: The Last Wish Turning Red

Outstanding Debut By A British Writer, Director Or Producer  Aftersun – WINNER Blue Jean Electric Malady Good Luck To You, Leo Grande Rebellion

Cinematography  All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER The Batman Elvis Empire Of Ligh Top Gun: Maverick

Editing Everything Everywhere All At Once– WINNER All Quiet On The Western Front The Banshees Of Inisherin Elvis Top Gun: Maverick

Casting Elvis – WINNER Aftersun All Quiet On The Western Front Everything Everywhere All At Once Triangle Of Sadness

Film Not In The English Language All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER Argentina, 1985 Corsage Decision To Leave The Quiet Girl

Adapted Screenplay All Quiet On The Western Front – WINNER Living The Quiet Girl She Said The Whale

Some of the fashionable people at the BAFTAs.

Is Martin Freeman's partner going for the Sigourney Weaver in GHOSTBUSTERS look?

*See Emma, if Sir Kenneth Branagh hadn't cheated on you with Helena Bonham Carter you would have never married Greg Wise and in him you found a partner who is game with wearing trainers on the red carpet.

A ROCKETMAN and KINGSMAN mini-reunion for Taron Egerton

*Taron and Kit Connor - Then and Now.

Taron and friend Jack.

Everyone should look at Angela Bassett like this.

Another mini-reunion: Florence Pugh and her LADY MACBETH costar Naomi Ackie. I highly recommend that movie. It's a whole trip.

Her after-party fit.

I really thought Sophie Turner was Karen Gillen for a moment.

Best Dressed Man.

Best Dressed Woman.

Her after-party fit.

Runner Up