#like WHY have I been IGNORING these DYNAMICS

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby���s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[zvezdacito]

First analysis on Sebek's attitude towards humans that actually takes the human colonization of the Briarlands into account instead of stopping at "its internalized racism because nocturnal fae are just conservatives clearly🤓☝️". I'm genuinely so thankful for this💀😭🙏

I don't blame people for misunderstanding the power dynamics between humans and fae here before Book 7 because there was literally no info/they SEEMED to be leaning on the "biracial kid hates his other half" trope/them leaving it so the initially elf-like fae could be interpreted as elitist snobs to human innovation, so the Briar Valley's history was intentionally set up to be a surprising revelation as to what actually motivates all of the afformentioned. But Book 7 has been out for 2 whole years; 2 whole years worth of time to actually catch up on lore. Twst is literally spoonfeeding its sympathetic stance to how the fae feel about their history the entire time too, its not as if its easy-to-miss subtext😭

Some real world tension Sebek's case is *more* comparable to is probably like Korean, Chinese and SEAsian elders having a strong grudge against Japanese people because of all their warcrimes in our countries, but it technically becoming "less relevant" to the daily lives of succeeding generations (and it seemingly being irrelevant to Japan from the start with the historical revisionism + refusal to acknowledge and apologize for said warcrimes) thus leading to some today seeing that hatred as some sort of reverse racism (even if it isn't)

I don't think it's comparable to the dynamic of racial oppressor and racially oppressed in western countries since its still very structurally relevant/less malleable between positions I'd say? (Even tho this is people's default when thinking about Sebek's "racism")

And Sebek's position is more similar to the mixed children of occupying soldiers/settlers with native women being conflicted about their identity and place (less because the "white" side being a (statistical) minority in the colonized-majority community, but a sense of guilt that their very existence feels like a reminder of the brutality and suffering that community faced). Though I'm not claiming it's a DIRECT parallel or allegory for these, since Mr. Zigvolt is not a soldier and may not even be part of the soldiers' descendants, just bringing it up to illustrate Sebek's actual place in the dynamics implied by Book 7 lore

Ngl I think twst fans have this issue of understanding stories where systemic issues contextualize why characters do what they do based entirely on how "nice" or "polite" that character is as an individual😭 Same reason people think Jamil (a literal modern day slave) is evil and "should've just talked to Kalim", or attempt to downplay the Dawn Knight's accountability in the invasion because he did lip service to wanting peace between species (even though it's likely a white-saviory idea of peace where human ideas take the lead and there's no trust for fae's autonomy. Just the bare minimum that they survive and get along with everyone else at their own cultural expense, if the loss of Fae tongue to Common even in the BV is anything to go by)

Idk I guess this is just my long comment about my pet peeve on people oversimplifying Sebek's attitude to "racism" because historically fae were not the ones with the systemic power and authority to discriminate and control the humans on the basis of them being human (which is what racism is systemically, it's more than just personal feelings of dislike lmao. And either way it was more the other way around for humans vs fae but fanon ignores this because "well, sebek is annoying")

Is sebek racist? Only a fun question, do not take seriously

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question, I have been so excited to discuss Sebek's speech patterns since Book 7 reached EN~🥳

Silver says outright that Sebek can be prejudiced at times and Lilia states in the beginning of Book 7 that Sebek is the very picture of his grandfather, from the way he talks to the way he thinks.

We as the players do not realize how literally he means this comment until later in Book 7 when we meet Baul Zigvolt and realize that their speech patterns have a lot in common:

While maybe difficult to put across in the English-language adaptation of the game, Sebek has always spoken very old fashioned.

(Ace: "Okay grandpa, you gonna take her for a buggy ride next?")

He will occasionally say "this Sebek" in reference to himself, which Baul also does. (They are also both canonically quite loud, possibly another trait that Sebek adopted from Baul).

Sebek will also infamously refer to others using the 貴様 form of "you," which doesn't really exist outside of fiction and is such a rude form that it is practically a swear word. More here ->

Sebek uses it constantly, in everyday conversation.

And see Baul using it in Book 7 just all the time, with everyone except his superiors such as Lilia and Maleanor (there is even a time he becomes very angry and uses it with the senate).

Also like Baul, Sebek will switch to the extremely old-fashioned and formal "kiden" to refer to people who have impressed him. More here ->

Sebek's battle cry of "I'll swallow you whole" even seems to come from Baul!

And another thing Baul did in Book 7: refer to Sebek as human rather than by his name until Sebek earned his respect, which we have also seen happen between Sebek and Azul.

(In a Nightmare Before Christmas voiceline Sebek refers to Zero as a ghost and then a dog, eventually settling on his name, while he refers to Jack Skellington as "Bones." Is Sebek not just calling out humans, but referring to everyone by what they are rather than who they are?*)

(Does he simply yell human more than "dog," "ghost," etc., because humans are the species we have seen him interact with the most? It was confirmed in the novels that mermaids, beast-people, etc., are all referred to as "human" within the Twst universe, which has yet to be confirmed by the game but also has yet to be disproved.)

Sebek also refers to Grim as "dire beast."

There is a significant moment where he shifts to calling both Grim and the prefect by their names in Book 7, which the prefect even has the option of acknowledging aloud: "Whoa, you called me by my name?"

In a Harveston sub-plot Sebek even refuses to use an honorific with Epel's grandmother Marja until she proves herself worth of his respect.

Silver calls Sebek out on his inappropriate use of "kisama," while both Riddle and Sebek scold him for referring to people as "humans."

Whereas Epel's rude speech patterns can be explained by how it is a part of the dialect he was raised to speak and therefore he doesn't know any better (more here ->) Sebek is consciously and intentionally speaking down to others until they prove themselves worthy--is this something he learned from Baul?

Sebek says that Baul provided him with "an enriching education," but what exactly did that education entail?

Lilia expresses frustration with Sebek's inability to adapt to society, but canonically Sebek has only been outside of Briar Valley for 6 months, while he's been emulating his grandfather for 16 years.

Lilia says that Sebek has always been close to Baul and Jamil has a line of, "When admiration goes too far, the consequences can be dire."

I always assumed this was meant to be about Malleus, and while it still might be, is it also a reference to Sebek's devoted imitation of his beloved grandfather?

And we can go even deeper if we want, though this goes into theoretical territory:

Sebek was born after Briarland had already fallen to its invaders, but he was raised in a community where the war is still living memory.

Baul fought to protect his home against those who overran the land, exploited its resources, labeled him a monster, and drove them all into a fraction of their former territory.

He remembers what Briarland was before it the invasion, he fought to save it, he failed, and he survived to help put what was left of the country back together.

And then his daughter married someone who is potentially a direct descendent of the very invaders who had spent years killing anyone who looked like him and destroying everything he'd known (with even his native language possibly disappearing: Sebek says that speakers are "somewhat rare" in modern day, as the fae have generally adopted Common as their language of choice).

Sebek: "This has been weighing on me ever since we entered Lilia's dream. That my own father's distant ancestors may very well have been involved in all this too..."

And due to the long lifespans of the fae he isn't the only one with trauma and loss that feels both recent and personal.

Sebek and his siblings were not raised amongst the offspring of those who survived the war but the literal survivors themselves, unlike the humans to whom the wars are ancient history.

Sebek: "You must remember: from Lilia, Grandfather, and Malleus's perspectives...the Dawn Knight is not likely someone they consider to belong to the 'distant past.'"

While not confirmed in-game, it is not too wild to imagine that Sebek has chosen to ally himself with the survivors rather the invaders, and especially when he has been raised to idolize Malleus, whose own mother they killed not very long ago by fae standards.

While humans have been reproducing and dying at such a rapid pace that the current generation might not know that dragons are real, the same fae that managed to escape the slaughter are still there, and are now being met with the people born of those who stole their country but to whom there doesn't seem to be much significance to it all beyond a chapter in a history book.

And that might all be very well tied up in Sebek's use of "human"! (Disclaimer: this is all just a personal analysis and one of many possible explanations!)

Not only does it seem to be a speech pattern that Sebek has adopted directly from the grandfather he adores (and from Lilia and Malleus, who are also known to refer to non-fae as "humans" and whom he idolizes), but it may also be a reminder both to himself and to everyone around that while he may be two worlds in one, he does not approve of those that tore apart the community he grew up in, lest someone wrongfully assume that he agrees with the actions of his human ancestors.

Which would make it a form of self-preservation while growing up in a predominantly fae area.

Sebek's speech patterns and behaviors might be serving as a way for him to assert his loyalty to the fae, the people whom he admires, identifies with and was raised by, and distance himself from the humans who tried to eradicate them.

(If Sebek’s mother brought his father to Briar Valley from somewhere else (possibly Sunset Savanna) as has been implied, it’s possible Sebek’s human lineage isn’t tied to the invaders at all, but this is still vague.)

*Sebek refers to Sally as "Sally" throughout the Halloween event, using her name without an honorific but at least using it, much like he did with Marja. He also chastises Trey for failing to offer his hand to Sally and help her to her feet when she falls to the ground. Does Sebek possibly have a chivalrous side, not dissimilar to Leona? Memo: must check.

[sincerelyriize]

cotton candy | p.wb

“so we just have sex to solve all our problems”

💿now playing: cotton candy by yungblud

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Wonbin, is so fucking stubborn that he never knows when, how or why he should apologise. Good thing he’s good at hot, sweaty make-up sex though.

❯ pairings: wonbin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, angst, smut

❯ words: 1.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, make-up sex, pretty arguing for like a second, wonbin is insufferably stubborn, mention of marking, unprotected sex, lowkey a toxic dynamic oops

an: this fic has absolutely nothing to do with cotton candy, or the song really lol, i was just inspired by this one lyric.

Park Wonbin is stubborn—but not as stubborn as you.

He never thought he’d meet someone who could rival him in that department, let alone end up dating them. It’s a mess, really. Maybe even toxic. Because while he loves every single part of you, when the two of you argue, it’s like fire meeting fire.

It gets nasty. Personal. Downright vicious. Honestly, your friends can’t figure out how you’ve lasted this long—especially since neither of you ever wants to be the first to back down. Apologising? Yeah, no.

Wonbin doesn’t apologise.

But this time, he really should.

It started the same, always does, over something petty like the dishes, or jealousy or when he works long hours and forgets to schedule you in but always seems to have time for the boys. That last one was oddly specific because it’s the exact reason you’ve been screaming at each other in his apartment for the past twenty minutes.

You’d jabbed at his chest with your finger and he’d swatted it away. The fury in his eyes lit aflame, and you weren’t sure you saw an end in sight.

But then he said it.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

That was the end. Because stubborn might as well have been your middle name, and you were ready to make good on his threat—if only his apartment wasn’t so far from yours.

“Fine, I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“Fine,” he spat.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed off to the bedroom, your footsteps heavy with anger. You didn’t bother slamming the door—too cliché—but the sharp click of it shutting was enough to drive your point home.

You busied yourself with grabbing whatever you’d brought over—a spare set of clothes, your charger, a few toiletries—but the more you moved around the room, the more frustrated you became. Your hands shook as you stuffed items into your bag, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from yelling.

Yelling would give him too much satisfaction, and satisfaction was the last thing you wanted to give him right now.

You throw yourself onto the bed, glaring up at the ceiling. The covers feel cold, they always do when he’s not there to cuddle you asleep, not that you’d want that right now, you’d technically just broken up—maybe—ugh, you don’t know. He’s too complicated to work out.

Instead, you curl up on your side, the pillow barely softening the tension in your neck. And sleep doesn’t come easily—your mind replays every word, every jab, and that final, infuriating sentence: “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Asshole.

Hours pass, the silence of the apartment punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the low hum of the city outside. Your phone screen glares at you from the nightstand, but you ignore it. You weren’t about to scroll through social media for comfort—not tonight.

The doorknob turns with a faint click, and the door opens just enough for him to slip inside. The soft rustle of his clothes and the weight of his footsteps tell you exactly who it is.

You don’t move. Don’t look. Just stay still, pretending to be asleep.

And then the bed dips—but it’s not like you can be mad—this is his house, his room, his bed.

Just…why did he have to be so goddamn stubborn? You’re not going to apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.

And like you said, Wonbin doesn’t apologise either.

Well…not verbally, at least.

Because within minutes, the shift in the mattress goes from tentative to deliberate. His hand slides across your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you can even protest, he’s pressing into you—pinning you to the bed, his actions saying everything his pride won’t.

Because when Wonbin knows he’s wrong, he’s bad with words. Instead his body moves against yours, wordlessly pleading for forgiveness the only way he knows how—telling you he regrets what he did.

This is the exact reason he doesn’t apologise. Why should he when he can just fuck you silly and make up?

It’s always from the back after you fight, and you’ve come to understand that it’s because Wonbin doesn’t want to look into your eyes and see any lingering hurt. He's not supposed to be the one that hurts you, he hates it actually.

His hands wrap around your wrists, smashing your palms against the mattress as his slender frame rubs against your back, allowing you to feel every inch of his hot, sweat-soaked skin as he thrusts.

His face finds his favourite place, buried in your nape, because there’s something so possessive about it; and he needs to mark it because he doesn’t want you to leave. He might have said it, yes, but he didn’t mean it. You have to know he didn't mean it.

Your nails dig into the sheets as he licks and sucks, leaving his signature purple love bites across your flesh. You practically mewel into the pillow you’re chewing on when he dips between your shoulder blades and marks there too.

He’s really drilling it home, and you can feel all of the passion and love he has for you poured into his fucking, but it’s almost not enough.

It’s too easy. He’s too easy to forgive considering he hasn’t muttered the word ‘sorry’ since you met him.

But as you turn around to try and even attempt to reprimand him, one look at the crimson tint on his pale complexion and the heavy lidded haze on his eyes has you clenching around his cock. And then the fucker had to go and whimper, the sound so faint and vunberable it was impossible to be mad at him.

“Binnie—” you moan, arching your back to give him a better angle, pushing yourself into his fervent rutting.

Your head rolls against your shoulders, tilting back, needing a better look of him. His unruly black hair damp and sticking to his own face, his lip chewed from biting down. He nuzzles close to your cheek, panting and grunting in your ear and it becomes your undoing.

“Baby, kiss me…” you plead with him for just a little taste, your lips parted, jaw hanging slack and your eyes dazed.

You can’t believe you’re the one begging him right now.

Instead of answering you, Wonbin only grunts and nests his face into your neck, where he kisses and sucks and nibbles on your pulse point as his hips slap against your ass in rapid, needy thrust. He keeps uttering your name, whining it in between his ragged breaths, squeezing both of your wrists until your fingers are tingling.

You can tell that he’s right on the edge, chasing his elusive high deep into your cunt, his sensitive tip twitching and throbbing as it daubs at your inner nerves. Your stomach knots up.

“Oh, fuck, Bin—!”

Wonbin wraps a gentle fist around your neck and guides your face back into the pillows, shushing you breathlessly as he does so. You know why— you’re so damn loud when he fucks you like this, and Wonbin is a jealous man. Your moans are his to hear—not his lousy neighbour who he has seen checking you out a couple of times.

That could start another argument on its own.

As you both settle, your body trembling with aftershocks and his twitching needily, you feel him pull out with a long, shaking moan. Your body reacts, missing the feel of him. You roll onto your back, panting whilst staring at the ceiling and he sits back on his knees.

You look at him and manage a small smile, though his face remains clouded with a frown. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before darting away. You sigh, already knowing what this means—you’ll have to be the one to speak first.

“Baby, c’mere,” you say softly, opening your arms.

It’s all the invitation he needs. Without a word, he slides into your hold, his movements almost hesitant as he rests his head against your chest. He avoids your gaze, even as your fingers thread gently through his damp hair.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, your voice tender and low. “I forgive you. I love you.”

Maybe Park Wonbin was as stubborn as you.

[astro-stars]

lions dont purr (TWST)

The Savanaclaw common room was a chaotic yet oddly cozy mix of noise and motion. Beastmen lounged on couches, joked loudly, and occasionally wrestled in good-natured bouts of strength-testing. Yuu had somehow found themselves in the middle of it all, seated cross-legged on a large, well-worn rug as they watched the dorm dynamics with mild amusement.

Leona lay stretched out on one of the larger couches, looking as uninterested as ever, his tail flicking lazily over the edge. Ruggie was nearby, munching on a snack he’d probably swiped from the kitchen, while Jack sat beside Yuu, arms crossed, quietly observing the room.

“You’re quiet today, herbivore,” Leona drawled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Just thinking,” Yuu replied, their tone casual.

“Dangerous pastime for someone like you,” Leona teased, earning a small chuckle from Ruggie.

Yuu ignored the jab, their thoughts bubbling to the surface unprompted. “You know what still bothers me?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Yuu sighed dramatically, leaning back on their hands. “That lions don’t purr. It’s so disappointing. Like, you have this giant, majestic creature, and you tell me it can’t make the cute little purring sound cats do? Feels like a rip-off.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Ruggie let out a bark of laughter. “You’re upset about that? Really? That’s what’s been eating at you?”

“Yes!” Yuu said, sitting up straighter. “It just doesn’t seem fair. You’ve got all the cool lion traits: the roar, the mane, the strength. Why not purring too? It’d be the full package.”

Leona cracked one eye open, looking at Yuu with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. “You’re ridiculous, herbivore. Why would I need to purr? Roaring gets the job done.”

“But roaring isn’t cute,” Yuu countered, crossing their arms. “Imagine how much more approachable you’d be if you purred. People wouldn’t be as scared of you.”

Leona smirked, sitting up slightly. “Scaring people is kind of the point.”

Jack frowned thoughtfully. “I think it’s a biological thing. Lions use roars to communicate over long distances. Purring’s more of a domestic cat thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the science,” Yuu said, waving a hand dismissively. “It still sucks, though. Imagine cuddling with a lion and hearing it purr. It’d be perfect.”

Ruggie laughed again, his grin wide. “Prefect, you’ve got some weird priorities. But hey, maybe you can train Leona to purr for you.”

Leona glared at Ruggie, his voice a low growl. “You’re pushing your luck, hyena.”

“See?” Yuu said, pointing at Leona. “Growling is close, but it’s not the same. You could totally pull off a purr if you wanted to.”

Leona rolled his eyes, lying back down. “Keep dreaming, herbivore.”

Jack shook his head, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You really do think about the strangest things, Yuu.”

“Hey, someone has to,” Yuu said with a shrug. “Life would be boring otherwise.”

As the conversation shifted to other topics, Yuu couldn’t help but glance at Leona’s still form, half-hoping to catch him purring in his sleep. Some dreams, they figured, were worth holding onto.

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky @lunasmisosoup

DIVIDER: me!!

[that-ari-blogger]

Complex Motivations (You Didn't Know)

Hazbin Hotel is about redemption, and a large part of that is the complexity of motivation. Sinners have unique reasons for what got them into hell, and that intricacy is explored in great detail with the main cast, but also everyone around them.

This is actually a mercy extended to the villains. Because contrary to popular belief, having a reason for doing what your doing doesn’t make you right. The Vees, for example, are characterised entirely by their dynamic with each other, and understanding their motivation means understanding just how cruel of a person Valentino is, for example. It doesn’t justify his actions, it explains them, and makes him a more complex character than “he does bad things because he is bad”, a mentality that the show criticises at every opportunity it gets.

Speaking of which, that reductive worldview is exemplified by the folks up in heaven. Specifically, by Lute, Adam, and Sera, and You Didn’t Know exists to show them on a sliding scale of villainy, and how their place on it doesn’t matter.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (Hazbin Hotel)

CONTENT WARNING: (Language)

“But she was right”

The first words in any story give context to what is to come. They set up the plot, provide a question or mystery, and establish pacing. Songs in musicals are parts of the story told in microcosm, and so they apply these rules. In this case, it is important to understand that each of these people has been proven wrong.

Their worldview is measurably false, and the question is, what do they do now?

This isn’t a presentation of ideas, this isn’t a philosophical debate, this is an exploration of character in the face of challenge, and how it exposes a person's true motivation.

Starting with Lute, because she is, in my eyes, the simplest. She believes everything that she is saying with no one hundred percent certainty, and it’s almost refreshing in contrast with everyone else.

Adam and Sera are both fickle in morality, but Lute is rock solid. She is bigoted and evil, and she is owning it. She is, for lack of a better term, a paragon.

Why are we having this conversation? Angel Dust is a sinner, therefore incapable of making any points. Any evidence presented is invalid because he’s the one presenting it.

“What are we even talking about?

Some crack whore who fucked up already?

He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth.

This discussion is senseless and petty!”

Redemption can’t be proven because redemption doesn’t exist.

It’s a flat, mindless understanding of the world that a lot of people carry, more than you think.

Dutch angle. These two make the scene unsafe. Standard filmmaking but worth pointing out.

This is called Doxastic Anxiety, according to the philosopher, Jenifer Foster. I recommend her dissertation, as well as the video by Philosophy Tube (@theabigailthorn), which discusses it in the context of deliberate ignorance, amongst other things.

Doxastic Anxiety is an aversion to forming new beliefs. In this case, Lute doesn’t want to believe that redemption is possible, so she, quite efficiently, doesn’t believe.

This isn’t an argument or a conversation, this is one side presenting evidence, and immediately getting shot down with “shut up, I’m right.” You can’t change the mind of someone who refuses to open it in the first place.

This is matched by the music itself. I’ve talked at length about Adam and Lute’s obsession with rock music and what I think about that, but there’s a gaping hole in Lute’s argument here.

The drums are doing something interesting, and I will come back to them later, but the guitar is remarkably restrained, which isn’t what you would associate with rock at all.

There's some colour symbolism here that I love. Traditionally, there is a correlation between good and evil, light and dark, white and black. Those three categories align and while there are implications there, it is storytelling standard. Except here, in this scene, the brightest part of the shot is the window into hell, and because of the shadows rendering lute in grayscale, the closest things in the scene to pure white are Angel Dust, and Charlie's hair. The filmmakers are messing with morality, so naturally, they can't resist a chance to mess with the imagery thereof. Also interesting here, the shadows are of the Angels own making because it is their architecture. They aren't just made to look bad by contrast, it's their own actions that lead to this symbolism.

Music is emotion, that’s why character playlists exist. Songs convey themes through vibes, and rock music is about big, unrestrained emotions. Rock music is fundamentally wild.

Consider Bullet With Butterfly Wings, by the Smashing Pumpkins. The song is about anger at an inability to claim freedom, and so the guitar evokes the pacing of a caged animal during the verses, then comes out swinging in the chorus only to, for lack of a better term, fumble it. The resolution at the end of each musical phrase is clumsy, like falling back to square one. The final chorus, notably, doesn’t do this, and is much more comfortable, evoking a feeling of catharsis that contrasts with the lyrics of the chorus.

Powerlessness. The character is trying to claim freedom and has transcended their anger, but it hasn’t worked. The finale is desperate, and the music thrashes against its bars, trying to break either them, or itself, all while repeatedly screaming the words:

“Despite all my rage,

I am still just a rat in a cage.”

“And I still believe that I cannot be saved.”

Maybe the bars are more than just physical. Maybe there is a psychological element to this kind of oppression.

Even Sweet Child O’ Mine, by Guns and Roses (they’re a small, up and coming band. But I think you should check them out. There’s promise there) which is calm and reminiscent for most of its runtime, is built on being dynamic. The iconic riff famously bounces between highs and lows to mimic the highs and lows of a life lived.

It’s messy in the way that memories are messy, and the solos are wild and meant to be experienced more than just listened to. They chomp at the bit during the lull at “where do we go now”, before climbing back into soaring expressions of glee and, for lack of a better term, raw power. It’s a very different emotion to Bullet With Butterfly Wings, and you don’t need the lyrics to understand that.

The point I am making is that rock music is intrinsically expressionistic and unchained, and when Lute sings, her portion of the song is anything but. Lute is angry, and appropriating imagery that is not hers to use to justify that anger. But what is the anger at? Being proven wrong.

Case and point, her guitar is simple and even. It rises, then stops, then repeats, then plays a nice little melody at the top, before resorting to power chords. She has tried to form a point, but has been unable to, and instead of examining that, has resorted to anger and displays of force.

There is something in that "stick it to the man" thing. People in power almost seem to fetishise rebellion, but when it actually happens, they get all upset. Adam likes to appear as the underdog, and I think he likes to feel like the underdog, but he isn't. He's the one the underdogs are fighting.

Moving on to Adam, who doesn’t believe anything he is saying. He is doing genocide for entertainment, and he doesn’t care about justifying it. There is nothing behind this man, he gets what he wants because he wants it. He is a man child.

He has also already had his views explained in detail, so this song gets to shine as a character beat for him, because of the aforementioned framing device. What do you do when you are proven wrong? Do you change? Do you shout down what the person is saying like Lute? Or do you get petty and start being an arse because you can?

This is where we see Adam’s vindictive side, and it sure is a coincidence that the guy who champions retributive justice has a habit of taking what he views as revenge and multiplying it tenfold. That’s probably not important.

Anyway, this is used to bring up Vaggie’s deceit, but it also exposes something interesting about Adam’s villainy. It’s innately self-sabotaging.

Adam could have kept his gob shut and this would have gone off without a hitch, but he didn’t. His villainy is based in retribution, and so he had to dish it out when he was slighted, even if it undermines his greater scheme.

Which, if I may get a bit soap boxy, is how villains work in the real world.

I get frustrated with the view that kindness is hard and that being awful is easy because it isn’t. Don’t let people tell you the world is naturally terrible, because if you believe them and expect the worst, then you don’t call people out on their nonsense. “Oh, the world is bad, it was the easiest choice to do this awful thing.” No! It took a choice to cause suffering, someone made that decision.

Evil is difficult and self sabotaging and will wreck you for doing it to the point where it stops being worth it. Truly evil people are those that make the decision to do what they are doing because they have weighed up the consequences and decided that they don’t care.

On a day-to-day level, kindness is easy. It costs you nothing. Don’t use the mundanity of misery as an excuse for your own shit behavior, and call people out on theirs because they are actively making the world worse, not prolonging the status quo.

But on a grander scale, this is where Adam comes in. I would argue that it would be easier for Adam to not do a genocide. Like, it would be easier to just sit at home, drink soft drink, be a tosspot. He wouldn’t be a nice guy, but it would be an improvement.

But to do what he is doing right now, he had to come up with the idea, something that probably took him a while. Then he had to persuade Lute and the other executioners, which probably took less time. Then he had to run it by Sera, and then he had to amass an army in secret and keep that same secret of genocide from an entire population.

But he did. He went above and beyond so that he could kill people for sport.

Adam actively made the world worse, and crucially, that directly led to his death later on in the series. He gave people motivation to want him dead.

I mentioned at the start of this post that the sliding scale of villainy doesn’t matter, and that brings me to Sera.

Sera isn’t evil. She doesn’t directly cause bad things. But that “directly” is doing a lot of heavy lifting, because Sera is an enabler. She doesn’t have a moral compass at all. She doesn’t stand for anything, so she lets everything happen.

She doesn’t do the genocide, she doesn’t want to be a part of it, and she thinks that makes her a saint. But then again, she had the power to stop it, and the choice to do nothing is still a choice.

General lump of ice for anyone who wants it. If you ever find yourself smiling like a maniac with literal hellfire reflected in your eyes, maybe reconsider your life a bit.

Sera could have said “no” and been done with it. But instead, she signed herself up for a lifetime of subterfuge because it seemed easier at the time. Theoretically, Sera isn’t as bad as the others, but in practicality, oh yes she is.

Sera’s lack of morality is actually what inspired me to analyse this entire musical, because her part in this song is so crucial to my understanding of the musical as a whole and I haven’t seen anybody else’s reading factor this in at all.

Sera doesn’t defend the genocide; she defends her decision to lie. Even when called out on it, it doesn’t occur to her that the murder of civilians is what people are upset about.

“I thought cause I’m older,

it’s my load to shoulder.”

“No”

“You have to listen,

it was such a hard decision

I wanted to save you

the anguish it takes to

Do what was required…”

There are two possible readings here, the first being deflection and the second being indifference.

Deflection is simple. She gets called out for murder and she apologises for lying. That’s not remotely the point, but if you can get someone tangled up in an argument that they didn’t sign up for, you can twist their words into something they didn’t mean.

Anger is a volatile emotion, but it can be lead astray. Deceit is not an easy thing to justify, but it’s a lot less difficult than systematic oppression, so Sera might be steering the conversation to something where she is on slightly less of a rough footing.

The other reading is indifference. Sera genuinely doesn’t care about morality, and so she is trying to keep her public face. She is the leader of… is Heaven a country? Is it a city? What is Heaven? Anyway, Sera is in a leadership position, and so she has made the decision to maintain her image first and foremost.

She spins the genocide as something that was required and starts defending the lie, because that’s what she thinks is most important. To her, the genocide was required, but to that I ask: for what?

Like, what is the end goal here?

Adam has presented the idea that the genocide makes him feel good. Lute is of the opinion that the sinners deserved it. But Sera says “required.” For what?

Is she required to let Adam do what he wants? Is she trying to find a middle ground between “no genocide” and “yes genocide” and landing on “some genocide”?

Alternatively, does Sera think it is required to keep the population of Hell down, so they don’t rise up? Does she think this is needed for her own security? Is it for control? Because, if that’s the case, I think she is talking bollocks.

You don’t need to murder someone to not feel threatened by them, and there are better ways of coexistence than control.

Sera returns to what I said earlier about villainy being difficult. She didn’t need to go along with the genocide. It wasn’t required. But she chose to, and that makes her stand alongside Adam and Lute.

Before I finish up, let’s talk about the drums.

The song is dense, and has a lot of moving parts, so as a storytelling technique, the drums are really impressive. Not only to they separate the sections and make the story easier to digest, adding to the vibes of each part while keeping the momentum going, but they also join the sections with fills to ease the transitions between disparate parts of the story.

The song starts out with no percussion as Emily pleads with the court and specifically with Sera. Then Charlie brings some backbone to the conversation with the concept of fairness, and we get a steady, repeated beat, like boxers circling each other.

We get a fill into the marching beat that backs up Lute’s solo, before a chorus from a rock song follows Adam’s input in the conversation. So far, so good.

Then Adam ruins everything, and the song abruptly cuts back to Emily, who suddenly has percussion accompanying her voice. Although, it is off kilter and unsteady, unsure if it should be here or not. It’s uneasy as Emily tries to work out what is happening and how to feel. Something is wrong, and her music is evolving to keep up.

Sera’s section messes with this in a way I love. Starting off mimicking Emily’s exactly with the unsteady beat as if to say “I’m with you.” Although it adds some bass drum, specifically the rhythm played during Adam and Lute’s chorus.

Then, as she says the line about doing what was required, Emily’s rhythm cuts out entirely to show the falseness of this offer. Sera and Adam are entirely aligned here.

Emily is back, and her rhythm is gaining more and more confidence as she gets more and more angry.

We’re building to a final chorus, and we get a quiet fill before a surprisingly understated chorus.

“Was talk of virtue just pretention?

Was I too naïve to expect you…”

“If Hell is forever than heaven must be a lie.”

The perfect world is built on suffering, which means it can’t be a perfect world. Everything else falls away, including the drums, into short punches that are just off beat enough to feel natural. This is just brutality. Messy, unrestrained, hammering. This is the point; this is the centerpiece of the musical.

Then the drums cut out entirely for the final moments to underscore the revelation, and the song wraps up.

Final Thoughts

I’m about to spoil the rest of the musical, so be warned.

I want Sera to be redeemed so much, and I actually think it might happen, here’s why.

First, I think it would be funny. I think Sir Pentious being in heaven would be an excuse to torment her into changing. Like, she gets so frustrated by the snake boy who’s voice she recognizes for some reason, and who proves her wrong so entirely, but whom she can’t escape from and whom she can’t bring herself to dislike.

Drag the angel, kicking and screaming, into being a better person. Commit to the theme, damn it.

But I do think there is a chance of this actually happening, and that is because of the expressions that Sera makes. When Emily snaps, the show makes a point of showing Sera’s response, and it is abject horror and sadness. There is no anger or spite there, it is just shock and terror.

A sinner couldn’t convince her, but she is willing to listen to Emily, and that is the expression of someone who’s entire world just came crashing down.

Maybe it’s the fear that Emily will fall like Lucifer, or maybe it’s the fear that she won’t. I cannot wait to find out.

Next week, however, is Out for Love, and I have thoughts about that song. So stick around if that interests you.

Previous – Next

[mothballmilkshake]

Behind the Scenes Writing

This scene was never used, because I decided to start Stolen Moments with their dynamic already being established. The initial first ideas for the RadioApple series I had would have been a bit of a slower burn, but I decided 'slow burn but they're fucking the whole time' would be more fun.

In any case, this would have been set after they'd established a truce of sorts, a reluctant getting along.

“I might be out of my fucking mind,” Lucifer muttered, speaking as much to himself as to Alastor. Alastor raised a brow, glancing down at the man beside him, holding himself back from commenting on his lack of skill with a trowel through sheer force of will.

“I've long suspected as such, sire! What finally brought you to this conclusion?” he replied with a trace of mockery in his voice, canned laughter echoing in the air.

Lucifer's eyes flashed, glaring up at the taller man. It seemed like he was struggling with something, some internal battle that was rather amusing to watch play out on his face. Alastor tipped his head, his smile not moving an inch.

“For some god-forsaken reason – I want you,” Lucifer bit out, a record scratch betraying Alastor's surprise. Of all the things he'd expected the other man to say, it certainly hadn't been that. Lucifer ran a hand through his hair, smudging dirt into the blonde strands and knocking them loose as he gave out a little self-deprecating huff.

“Sorry if that's too blunt. I don't exactly have a lot of experience with the whole flirting thing – I was married to the same woman for ten thousand years, and I didn't know what I was doing at the start of that relationship, either. Look, you don't have to – to say anything, but it's been driving me mad, trying to keep it a secret. So now you know.”

Alastor blinked as Lucifer's voice trailed into a mutter, his eyes going back to the bulbs at his knees. He picked one up with slightly shaking claws, plunging it into the earth as the silence dragged on.

An egotistical sense of smugness welled in Alastor's chest. He'd been wanted before, of course he had, but to know that even the King of Hell had fallen for his charms? Why, it was enough to make a man preen.

Something else fluttered behind that ego, though. A heart-beat sounding a fraction too late, and before he could call the words back, they'd already left his mouth.

“So what do you plan to do about it?”

He wasn't sure why he'd said such a thing. He'd never entertained anyone else's desire for him – had in fact burnt a decades long friendship to the ground because of it. But there was something about Lucifer, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Nobody else seemed so capable of getting under his skin, of infuriating him so. Seeking out the king and pushing him to anger or irritation had become an underrated thrill in his day, a bright spark in an otherwise rather repetitive life.

Lucifer's gaze snapped back up to him, shock writ large in those yellow eyes.

“I – are you messing with me?” he asked, glancing around as if he thought Alastor had overcome his aversion to cameras just to pull a prank like this and film his reaction. Something twisted in Alastor's guts, an uncertainty he ignored.

“As hard as it may be for you to believe... no. I don't believe so.”

[the-crazy-2]

This. Like this is why I find them so interesting.

I do disagree with the "power trip gone wrong" tho. To me it's much more "gifted child graduates and has an identity crisis".

Definitely correct with the rebellion stuff, even down to the way she becomes a lyctor (finding a way to avoid any of the trials). But her role on the third seems to have been that of potential first and human last. She always had to be smart and strong enough for two, that both damages and overinflates your ego. Then she gets out of the third but she's still in a controlled environment where she is clearly superior (Canaan house), which like... Not great.

But she meets her agenda and ends up a lyctor and... She never learnt how to be a human and how to stand out so she doesn't matter anymore. And that fucks her up I think. She did all that to get attention from the world, and God and his saints almost entirely ignore her existence. She likely doesn't even realize this, but she's continuing her cycle of abuse. Hide and power up someone else (Crown, Jod, even Babs in ntn), while keeping a fucked up dynamic with whoever is closest to her (Crown, Lob!Harrow, Kiriona).

I don't think the way she interacts with Harrow in htn is that different from how she interacts w Crown, except that harrow doesn't play by those same rules and that throws Ianthe off her game.

The thing I rarely see adressed about the Third house is how abusive it is. People agree that Harrow's parents ruined her life with what they did, we also agree that the eight house is fucked up.

The Tridentarii twins were probably abused as children. They were forced to perform as the princesses of Ida from a young age, they were a status symbol to their parents. Forcing two kids to dress in a way that was probably uncomfortable and do things that they probably did not want to since they could walk likely made them feel that their emotions don't matter and no matter what happens to them they will be forced to perform their roles. We live in an age where we are starting to see the damage child stardom and children performing (family chanels and alike) can do. We now also see that it's a sliplery slope to other types of abuse.

I am not trying to compare the trauma of different tlt characters. But Coronabeth reads as someone who grew into this dynamic of "I am the thing mom and dad put in front of people to oogle at" and when it stopped working with Blood of Eden she almost feels... Relieved? She is no longer an object to these people, she is a person with flaws now. The idea that her parents have been putting her on a pedestal like this, maybe from a very young age also leaves a bad taste in my mouth becuase how predatory it is. Yes, they thought her a necromancer but she was the "pretty thing" first, necro after.

Ianthe's actions could be interpreted as a rebellion, killing Babs, becoming a Lyctor and later the Tower Prince have a common thread among them: she killed her connections to the Third. First she got rid of Babs. Then she became a lyctor and I have this suspicion that their parents wanted Corona as a lyctor instead for the afformentioned reasons. Ianthe was not the crown princess od Ida, so she found something better and became the Tower Prince. As soon as she was free of their parents influence she flew off the handle, murdered someone, tried to fight a lyctor and did a lobotomy. These actions are totally not normal and her entire arc in Harrow the ninth reads as a power trip gone wrong.

What I'm trying to say is maybe the Ianthe and Corona we saw so for is not their true self, just the mask they were forced to wear. Corona's mask started to slip in Nona the ninth, but Ianthe's is yet to be cracked. I think she will have some kind of breakdown in the next book and I am not ready for it.

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

I will now present some Ghostbur dynamics I have absolutely been sleeping on for two years:

Ghostbur and Quackity

Ghostbur and Fundy

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[rakkuntoast]

my enjoyment of philever is a constant battle of deciding if its funnier them getting platonically involved or forever being permanently in his boyfailure era

[arabella-s-arts]

After watching the first two episodes of MAWS season 2 I can confidently say...

Lois what the #$%#!

[thawthebeez]

oikage......... if you carry the one and factor out a four... are a manifestation of the thin line between admiration and jealousy .... i've solved it....🚬

[mangoofthesea]

what I say: I like reading fiction about power structures and systems of governance outside of our usual - like royalty fantasy or rogue criminal heist kind of thing. The action sequences and higher levels of consequences are really cool

what I mean: it's about the experience of being trapped within a system which you hate but want to sustain in a better way than it has been for the good of its members its about loving your family while hating your family while being stuck somewhere you want to improve you can't escape your responsibility but you can try its a never ending struggle of deciding who you are and who you could be and how you can live and live with yourself while within such systems that feel like a wall closing in on you and your life as you try to build a life with less corruption than the last generation its about th-

[tvxcue]

ik it's been four years since bridgerton was first released and i just started getting into it this year so it's probably already been discussed but one of the aspects of the racial dynamics in the show, specifically in s1, that frustrates me a lot is the awareness of race that the characters of color show versus the ignorance of white characters.

like simon's entire background is shaped by his and his family's race. his father was also ableist and abused him because of that but that abuse and ableism is also intrinsically tied to the fact that the elevation of people of color is NEW in this society and he calls it precarious. we get lady danbury who essentially argues that this new racial order is permanent and that fear is irrational and sure we can take that as fact for this universe but this doesn't erase the fact that simon's trauma and resistance to having children is informed by a very recent history of discrimination and bigotry towards people of color and that daphne never has to learn about this or confront this. she's not only backed by the narrative in her assault of simon, he is treated as unreasonable and prideful for his anger at her afterwards. their story ends and their conflict is "resolved" when she "forgives" him and he "accepts" having children by "getting over his pride."

and sure, she learns that he was abused and realizes that's why he didn't want children (and that leads to her forgiving him) but 1) he doesn't really get narrative space to work through his trauma and 2) the racial underpinnings of his trauma are ultimately ignored and treated as irrelevant and it's a topic that's never addressed again in the show.

and this feels particularly dismissive because we get lord featherington (the first one) literally referencing slavery and the fact that will's father was enslaved in the american colonies as he's trying to convince will to throw his last fight so there ARE white people who are aware of these racial dynamics and history and here, see one using that history to manipulate a black man. yet the "good" white characters are allowed to be ignorant as a way to maintain that "goodness" because otherwise, we would have to actually reckon with the colonial and white supremacist underpinnings of this society and how white people perpetuate this structure.

and lord featherington is kind of useless and antagonistic throughout s1, so he can be a this mouthpiece but that also throws into question marina's place in the featherington household and portia's treatment of her and penelope eventually writing about her pregnancy but that's still never acknowledged! portia gets a line at the end where she calls marina strong and her actions are validated as her trying her best to make sure marina + all the featherington women survive but it still feels like a gap in the show's discussion of race that exists so that none of the white characters have to grapple with race while non-white characters (and in s1, black characters specifically) are subject to horrors.

and s2 continues this because even as british colonialism in india is gestured to throughout, no white character has to acknowledge the specificity of the sharmas' vulnerability and status as indian women in this society. kate talks about forcing herself to tolerate british (white) culture for the sake of edwina's future with lady danbury, but anthony never really has to think about that. (and yes in s3 we get anthony suggesting they go to india and wanting to learn about kate's culture for their child but that's literally the one and only time a white character has actually considered that the experiences of non-white people is different from white people and still doesn't address the implied racism that's still present in other parts of the show. like we get anthony, benedict, and colin being directly confronted by women about the misogyny in their society and their privilege as men but NOTHING about whiteness despite characters of color being aware of the difference and inequality.)

and even though s3 is abt two white leads, the parallels with the mondrich family's plot that season raises a lot of questions about how truly equal this society is because penelope and colin are both allowed to be writers (have jobs) and be part of the ton while will and alice have to sell their club in order to be respected and accepted by the ton. and while yes, the mondrich's are newly elevated and it's their son that is titled, not them, while colin and penelope come from established nobility so classism is at play here.......black people and other people of color have only been granted titles within the last 50 years, that's why the two white characters have the privilege of class, so it's still valid to question that double standard because it's directly related to the show universe's established history of racial discrimination. moreover, the people who directly tell will and alice they should give up the club in order to be accepted are literally two black characters (lady danbury and lord garrett). which comes back to the point that people of color in this universe are aware of race and racism but white people are not and are allowed to stay that way, which is an incredibly frustrating dynamic to watch.

[dbphantom]

Nooo tumblr don't erase an entire character's motivations and personality to force them into a generic shipping dynamic ahah you're so sexy