#lust programming? incredible

[lustsright-handman]

hmmhmmhmmmm i will share with you all, some content

im making a bedrock addon! my initial goal was to overhaul and populate the deep dark, but there's some hardcoded spawn & worldgen rules messing with that plan, so all the new entities will just hang out below y=-40 until i become brave enough to add a new biome for them.

to be clear: i do not know if i'll be able to share this soon. it may be that i could put the files up in a google drive link to share, but then only pc and mobile players would be able to use them. it is my goal to put these guys up on the marketplace (for free, because i want them to be accessible), but as i understand it, i have to talk to microsoft and get them to let me put them up, and that could be a pain.

these guys are called kits, and they're meant to be baby wardens. they run around defending the depths of the Overworld caves from hostiles, and can be tamed and kept as pets with glow berries. more of their animations under the cut!

here's the run cycle that i spent over 2 hours on,

and their melee attack. be careful, they bite!

a couple of bonus in-game screenshots:

they're little!

once tamed, they can be told to sit!

they're mutually neutral to wardens!

[beejunos]

SPEAK TO ME | Alastor x f.reader

Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.

FULL STORY!

Here we have it! The full story! 5k of pure smut. Enjoy darlings! Tags: Dom!Alastor, masturbation, oral, light bondage, fingering, dirty talk

Attraction was a funny thing. It could never be explained, and often, it just appeared one day. Attraction could hit you like a train in the dead of night, but sometimes, it would follow you like a shadow. Whispering sweet words in your ear without making itself too known, not until it was too late, and you realised that you had stayed awake for two hours when you should have been asleep instead of thinking about what someone's hands would feel like on your skin. 

Attraction was an annoyance, but lust, its evil twin, was irrational, unpredictable, and, worst of all, it made you stupid. 

So incredibly dumb.

The lust had crept up on you like a thief in the night. Stealing your rational mind and sanity, leaving only the body to fend off the raging attraction that wanted to sink its teeth into your tender flesh. 

Having a crush on the radio demon was a poor choice and a painful one.

It began weeks ago when you first arrived at the crumbling hotel. 

Hazbin Hotel, with its rehabilitation program, had been your last resort after your landlord, who really deserved to be in Hell, kicked you out of your apartment. 

You had been tired of fending for yourself, trying to work, feed yourself and find an apartment with a landlord who wasn't a humongous creep. It seemed to be an impossible task in Hell. It wasn't until you heard one of your coworkers talk about the interview on the news with the princess of Hell that you found out about her little redemption project.

The Hazbin Hotel appeared like a lighthouse on the horizon for you, and the prospect of a warm meal and a soft bed was too enticing to pass on.

Charlie had, of course, taken you in straight away and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally catch your breath. 

The bath you took that evening in your own bathroom, connected to your own bedroom, was heavenly. Almost sinful with how much pleasure you took from it. 

The next day had been quite overwhelming to you, to say the least. Thrown into the middle of trust exercises with people whom you had known less than 24 hours, where you had, in the span of two hours, visited a bondage club and escaped a turf war that Vaggie had thrown you into. If that was how she had learned to trust others, then maybe you weren't cut out for redemption. 

While the other hotel residents turned out to be a wonderful company, one, in particular, made your little sinner's heart skip a beat. 

Alastor, the infamous radio demon. 

He had ... not been what you had expected. 

From all the tales you'd heard of him, you expected a grotesque monster who murdered anyone who would just look at him funny. But he couldn't have been further from the image you had created of him from all the rumours. 

First of all, he was beautiful. His soft red eyes were so hypnotising that you feared you would drown in them, with a smile showing rows of sharp teeth. One thing was for sure: Hell would contort any morals and virtues you may have had, and if you had liked the idea of lovers biting your skin during intercourse before, it was now a raving obsession. An obsession that would fule you nightly fantasies for weeks and weeks. 

Sometimes, that was the only thing you could think about, his sharp teeth grazing your neck or nibbling your ear. 

Alastor was also very charming in his own way. A gentleman by hellish standards. Whenever you were going somewhere in the same direction, he would always hold up doors for you or pull out the chair for you during dinner time. Something you were highly unused to, and it had taken a long time for you not to blush whenever he did it. 

Whilst his jokes were lame at best, the conversations you would have late at night by the fireplace were your favourite time of the day. Because you loved his voice. You really loved his voice. 

There was something so bewitching with that transatlantic accent and that strange buzzing overlay to how he spoke. It made it sound like he was far away when he was, in fact, right in front of you, and the gentle buzzing had made you tremble more times than you could count.

Something that you suspected that Alastor had caught on to with how often he would appear behind you, only to put his head right beside yours and say the most innocent things that would make you react in the most sinful ways.

The day he had started to call you 'my dear' had been a day you would never forget, for you had laid awake all night imagining him whispering those exact words in your ear as you brought yourself to climax. Again, again, and again. 

You had had a tough time the day after looking him in the eyes without thinking of all the times you had desperately whispered his name into your pillow with your fingers between your legs.

"What's this?" you asked, surprised as you sat down to eat breakfast. On the table sat a red present with a big black bow right in front of the seat you always occupied. You could recognise Rosies' gift rapping technique anywhere.

"It is a gift, my dear. Open it," answered Alastor and sat down to your right at the end of the table.

You and Alastor were always the two residents in the hotel who were awake first: You because you wanted to spend as much time as possible with the strange but charming sinner. Unfortunately, he had the habit of disappearing during the day, so you only ever had the morning and the night to talk uninterrupted with him. You also suspected that Alastor barely slept because, after your evening chats, when you went to bed, Alastor would go up to his radio tower to host his show, and you had no idea when he would end them.

You opened the gift slowly as if savouring it, trying not to get too excited about having gotten a gift from Alastor when, in reality, you just wanted to rip it open.

Inside the box was a beautiful antique radio in pristine condition. The dark wooded exterior was smooth and shiny as if someone had just polished it, and it made you almost not want to touch it in case you left fingerprints on it.

You looked up at Alastor, whose smile seemed to grow as he looked at you.

"I remember you telling me that you had never had the pleasure of hearing my radio show, and now you can listen to it whenever you want!"

At times like these, you wondered if Alastor knew of your slightly obsessive crush on him. He struck you as a man who liked to play with his food.

The radio turned out to be a great gift that you used almost religiously. Every evening, when you were preparing to go to bed, you would turn on the radio and listen to Alastor's radio show. You would have the radio on softly in the background as you walked around your room doing your nightly routine. Sometimes, you would even invent stuff for you to do so you could stay up longer just so you could listen to his voice.

It was almost like he was in the room with you, talking just to you about anything he found interesting. On the odd occasion, Alastor would incorporate a passive-aggressive threat into the show for some poor sinner getting in his way, but that never scared you. In fact, you looked forward to those instances.

Alastors' voice would drop and get darker, reminding everyone who listened that he was still dangerous—a predator waiting to strike.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, and what a stupid sheep you were. Yearning for the wolf bite.

Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room. 

"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!" 

Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on. 

You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. Leaving the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you. 

The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent. 

You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex. 

Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak. 

Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hands, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard. 

Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.

One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear. 

You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.

You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. 

You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer. 

You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.

You are so, so close.

"What are you doing, my dear?" 

Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes. 

His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you. 

"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched." 

Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red. 

Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked before him. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago. 

"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?" 

Shaking all over, you lunged for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble all over again over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.

You would be lying if you said you had a good night's sleep after that fateful evening—or if you said you had slept at all.

You had stayed up all night replaying the previous night's events, unable to comprehend what you had been through. Had it really happened? Had Alastor really listened to you masturbate while you were moaning his name? It had almost felt like a fever dream had you not stared at the pulled-out electrical cord for the radio all morning.

The clock on your dresser kept ticking as you sat in your black dressing gown on your bed. The time was about to turn nine, and you had not stepped a foot outside of your bedroom, too scared to face the man after your night. You knew you had to leave your bedroom sooner or later, but you were waiting until you were sure that Alastor would have gone for the day to do whatever he usually did during the day. As soon as you were sure that you would not encounter him in the hallway, you would sneak out of your bedroom and go down to the kitchen to steal all the snacks you needed to survive the day cupped out in your own room, like the coward you intended to be. 

It was one thing to fantasise about Alastor naked, but it was a completely different thing to now face the possibility that maybe he would like to see you naked, too. 

Three knocks were heard from your door out of nowhere before Alastor slammed the door open and stepped in with a silver tray full of food in his band. You let out a small yelp before climbing further up into the bed to get away from the other sinner, who waltzed into your room as if he owned the place.

"My dear, what are you doing in bed at this hour? Don't you know that you've missed breakfast?" Alastor's voice was laced with a hint of amusement as if he found your predicament delightful. He walked over to the little table and armchair you had in front of the unused fireplace on the opposite wall to the bed and sat down the tray on the table before conjuring a matching armchair out of thin air. He sat down as if nothing was out of the ordinary and leaned his cane against the armrest as soft jazz music began playing.

As you sat on your bed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your underdressed state, you watched in disbelief as Alastor, seemingly unperturbed by your unease, crossed his legs and settled into your room. His casual demeanour, coupled with his humming along to the music, only served to deepen your sense of bewilderment, and you were sure that you were hallucinating. 

You must have eaten something terrible yesterday, and maybe everything you thought happened last night and now was all in your head. 

"Are you going to eat or not? Your food is getting cold, my dear." 

The look Alastor gave you from the corner of his eye told you that it was in your best interest to sit in the armchair in front of him and eat. 

You slowly left the safety of your bed and walked over to Alastor. However, the steps you took on the way were tiny, considering that your dressing gown ended in the middle of your thighs, and you didn't want to flash him accidentally. Not caring about the look you got from Alastor, you shuffled your feet across the room and sat down in the armchair, struggling as you continued to keep your legs as close together as possible. 

With shaking hands, you took the small coffee cup and were about to put it to your lips for a sip when Alastor spoke up again:

"Aren't you forgetting something, my dear?" 

The look he was giving you made shivers travel up and down your spine. Shivers dipped in fear with a hint of excitement. He had never looked at you so intensely before. 

"Thank you for bringing me breakfast," you whispered hoarsely. 

"Good girl." You almost choked on your coffee, "And you're welcome." 

You had a tough time looking into his eyes after that comment as your cheeks grew warmer and warmer. 

Without warning, Alastor began to talk about everything that needed to be done that day. Apparently, Niffty had found a cockroach infestation in the basement, and Charlie had decided they would use chemicals instead of Niffty's needle, which she liked stabbing them with. 

Alastor kept talking on and on about work and the hotel as you ate. On the outside, you kept calm as you finished the last of your breakfast, but on the inside, you wondered if he would mention what had happened yesterday. Had it even happened? 

Maybe it hadn't, and your obsessive crush had finally broken you. 

"Ah, I see that you have finished your breakfast! Well, I best be on my way!" With a snap of his finger, Alastor made the breakfast tray disappear into a red cloud. He did, however, leave the extra chair he had conjured up. 

"Could you be a doll and tell Vaggie that I'll need the documents later today and that she can leave them in the bar? I need to head out today, and I don't think I'll be back until this evening," said Alastor as he stood up, brushing invisible dust off his impeccable suit. 

"Uhm, sure. I'll do that. Just close the door when you leave, please," you answered as you looked as Alastor made way for the hallway door. He waved absentmindedly over his shoulder in affirmation of your request.

A small part of you were disappointed that this little breakfast meeting had turned out the way it had, no matter how confounding it had been. If only you could have gotten a hint from Alastor about what he was thinking and why he frankly was there.  

Maybe he had just brought you breakfast from the goodness of his heart? Or he had just missed your company that morning since you usually only got to talk uninterrupted in the morning.

You turned around to walk to the bathroom as he left your room. Letting your shoulder slump in disappointment, you wondered what you would do that day. You remembered that Charlie had mentioned that it would be nice if the hotel's garden were more well-kept but that she couldn't hire a gardener just yet. 

That could be the thing you did today. Find some gardening tools and surprise Charlie by pulling out all the weeds in the flowerbeds. 

Oh, what a joy, you thought sarcastically as you started to open the bathroom door. However, it slammed close hard in front of you as a hand shot forward and a hard chest pressed into your back. 

All around you began shadows to dance as if they were made of mist, and the air got charged with a static you were all too familiar with. The shivers came back, but your whole body shivered this time as his other hand gripped your hip, pressing you closer to him, but the only thing you could focus on was his breath fanning over your ear as he whispered:

"I will be back at eleven tonight, and when I get back, I will find you in your bed, naked, waiting on me. You are not allowed to touch yourself, and don't try to defy me, my dear, for I will know if you do." 

In a heartbeat, Alastor was gone, and your body instantly felt colder. Shaking all over, your knees finally gave away under you, and you collapsed in front of your bathroom door. 

Behind you, the radio began to play softly���the same music Alastor had played during breakfast. Looking at the blasted thing, you could see that the radio wasn't plugged in.

The clock was about to strike a quarter to eleven, and you had been a nervous wreck for the past three hours. Time couldn't have gone by slower as you constantly turned to look at the clock hands to see how far they had moved. 

You had tried to distract yourself during the day with the gardening, but you constantly got distracted by all the fantasies you had of what Alastor would do to you. Turned out that it was really hard to work when horny. 

As you looked at the clock again, you re-adjusted in your bed for what felt like the thousandth time. 22:47. 

Ugh, this is taking forever! 

Laying down again, you looked over at the radio on your nightstand. It had been quiet since the morning, but you still waited to hear the tiniest sound from it that would indicate that Alastor was with you. But nothing came. 

You turned on your side to continue staring at the radio as you took one of your pillows and pressed it against you. The air in your room was cold against your skin, yet you ignored your chilled skin, for the mere thought of what would happen tonight warmed you from the inside out. 

The benefit of laying on your side was that you now could feel the slickness between your legs, coating almost all of the insides of your thighs. You knew that Alastor had said that you were not allowed to touch yourself, but he had never specified in what way you could not touch yourself, and if you didn't get some of your release soon, you felt like you would spontaneously ignite.   

Slowly, you started to press your legs together as you rubbed them against each other. Sweet pressure was building up the pleasure within you as you pressed your face into the pillow. Harder and harder, you tried to push your legs together, increasing the pleasure you had longed for all of them. 

Close, you were so close, and the excitement of defying Alastor just heightened the experience. 

You only needed one more push until you would fall over the edge into sweet release, but it never came as something grabbed onto your ankles and roughly pulled your legs apart. 

"I must say, I am really disappointed in you, my dear." 

From the shadows stepped Alastor out and looked down at you from the end of the bed, but what scared you the most was that he was not smiling. 

Looking down at you from heavily hooded eyes, Alastor dragged your body further down the bed, keeping your legs spread out with the help of his shadow tentacles. 

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it," you pleaded, hoping he would show you mercy, but from the looks of it, you would not be shown any. 

"Don't lie to me. You know very well what you did." With a snap of his finger, the armchair Alastor had conjured earlier that day dragged across the floor and stopped behind him. He sat down and made himself comfortable, looking over at you as he had a full view of between your legs.

"Now, darling, since you didn't listen to me, there will be consequences," said Alastor, crossing his legs and leaning his head in his hand lazily. You pressed up on your elbows to look over at him, and while his body language did not look interested, his eyes were sharp, focusing on your wetness that glistened in the light from the chandelier.

"One, you are not allowed to touch me." 

"What?!" you cried, the fear that you had ruined your only chance with Alastor burning within you like a forest fire. 

"Silence." You instantly shut your mouth as static filled the air and prickled your skin. Alastor's antlers had grown in size. He sighed and continued when he was sure that you would not say one more word.

"As I was saying, you are not allowed to touch me, but I can touch you however I want. If you wish me to stop, you will simply say television. Understod?" 

"Yes."

"Yes, and?" 

"Yes, sir?" You weren't sure what Alastor wanted to hear, but from the smirk that started growing on his lisp, you were sure that you had said the right thing. 

"What a good little doe you are, my dear." Whilst you were sure that was said condescendingly, you could not help the pride that grew in you that he thought you were good for him. A small yelp was pulled from your lips as you felt Alastors tentacles start to massage their way up your legs.

"You seemed to like my voice so much, my dear, that I thought you must love it if I command you as well. Isn't that what you want? For me to tell you exactly what to do to you and how to do it? Wouldn't you like to put on a show for me, darling?" 

Your brain was short-circuiting as you could not get a single word out. The only thing you could do was nod enthusiastically as Alastor's shadow tentacles gently began to play with your lips between your legs without touching your clit.

"Lovely." said Alastor, now giving you his trademark smile, "Why don't you show me how you touched yourself yesterday? I could hear those delicious sounds you made, my dear, and I want to hear them live."

And so, with shaking hands, you began massaging and caressing your body, making sure that you touched every part of your body that made you sing in pleasure. You wanted to put on a show, but you were so eager, so impatient as you played with your body that you could not bear the thought of prolonging this torture. 

You needed to be touched, and you needed it now. 

Dipping your hand between your legs, you could feel Alastors tentacles pull away from your genitals but keep a firm grip on your thighs. The first time you touched your clit was electric, as you made sure to look Alastor deep in the eyes when you did it. A soft moan from you filled the air.

Rolling the tip of your finger lazily against your clit you looked on with great satisfaction as Alastors eyes dropped from your down to your finger between your legs.

"Drag your fingers between your lips, darling, but before you do, circle your opening. Slowly without pushing in," commanded Alastor, and if you weren't delusional, you thought you heard the desperation in his voice, but his face gave nothing away. He readjusted in the chair by uncrossing his legs, giving you a full view of his hard cock in his pants. 

Never had you been filled with the need to fall on your knees and suck someone's cuck as if it was what you were created to do as you did now. You licked your lips and whined loudly as you circled the opening to your vagina with your finger, wishing it was Alastors finger or tongue that did it instead.

After circling for some time, you pulled your finger through your lips up to your clit and began touching your clit again. This time, with additional wetness, you let all the sounds you wished to make leave your mouth as you quickened the speed of your finger. 

"That's it, darling, you are doing so well." Whispered Alastor as he leaned forward in his chair, "When you feel like you're about to cum, remove your finger immediately."

The demand almost made you want to cry, but from the look Alastor was giving you, you did not want to challenge him. Savouring the feeling of your fingers a few seconds more before you removed your fingers from your clit that begged your release. The orgasm that had been at the tip of your fingers slowly fizzled out as you started to calm down. 

You looked at Alastor, who had moved from his chair to sit on the bed by your feet, waiting for his following instructions. 

"What a treasure you are, darling. So willing, so needy."

Alastor lifted his hand and, with the back of his fingers, caressed the inside of your thigh. The touch was so charged that it felt like you could cum from that mere touch alone. As your leg twitched from his touch, Alastor's tentacle tightened around your leg, pulling you closer to him. Your breath got stuck in your throat as you watched Alastor climb onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs.

"How long have you dreamt of this? How long have you been mine without me knowing it?" The look in Alastor's eyes grew increasingly intense as he leaned over you, looking down at you with an almost mad look in his red eyes. Out of nowhere, Alastor pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them, making your hips lift from the bed involuntarily at the pleasure. 

"How long, my dear? Answer me," he growled as his antlers grew. You could barely breathe as he continued to curl his finger repeatedly inside you, hitting the spot that made your toes curl. 

"Since... since I first met you!" you cried as your breathing quickened. Above you, Alastor chuckled darkly as he put his free hand on your left thigh. 

"So long. We have much time to catch up to, don't we, dear?" 

You could barely comprehend a single word that left his sinful mouth as you neared the orgasm you desperately wanted. And had you not made the mistake you would have made, you would have cum on Alastors finger. 

In your lustful haze, you placed your hand on Alastors arm, holding your thigh. Instantly, Alastor recoiled from you, and the second orgasms you had almost tipped over were ripped from you. 

"What did I say about not touching me?" 

Two new tentacles came out of nowhere and wrapped around your arms, pulling them above your head. 

As you begged and pleaded for forgiveness, the weight of your desperation was palpable. You implored Alastor not to leave you like this with every fibre of your being. The thought of losing him now was unbearable, and you knew that if he did leave, it would be the end of you.

Your legs shook from the strain of being in the same position for so long. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You were overwhelmed with emotion, your heart aching with the fear and uncertainty of what would happen next. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and you held your breath, waiting for Alastor's response.

But he only looked at you from under heavy lids. Slowly, he lifted his hand that had fingered you and licked the wetness that was still on it. 

"If you think I would leave you now, my dear, you are indeed mistaken. You are mine now, and I will do with you as I please." Grabbing both of your legs under your knees, Alastor pulled you towards him before bending you backwards so your toes almost touched the bed beside your hands. He stared deep into your eyes as he put his tongue against you and licked you from your vaginas opening up to your clit. The sound you made had been ungodly and would have been a miracle if no one else in the hotel had heard you. 

Alastor quickly started to suck and lick your clit as your legs began to shake. You could feel the sinner's claws dug into your flesh as he grew increasingly frantic in his administration, acting almost like someone who had just been presented with a glass of water after 12 days in the desert. 

Pressure built up within you for the third time, this time stronger and more intense than the previous ones. Closer and closer, he took you to the edge you wished to fall from. 

Shaking, twisting, and pulling against your restraint, you let Alastors name fall from your lips loudly as you looked at him, giving you pleasure. Blood was dripping down from your thighs where his claws had dug into your skin, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the sweet release that you begging for. 

"Close, Alastor, I'm so close," the words tumbled out of you in a whisper as you looked on as the man licked your clit with the tip of his tongue. The only thing Alastor did was briefly look up at you as he continued to give you pleasure. 

Closer, closer, and then you fell. 

The orgasm ripped through your body like a tidal wave, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your toes curled almost painfully as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

You had no idea when Alastor had put your legs back down, but suddenly, when you came to it, he was sitting by your head, gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. 

"What a good little doe you were for me, my love." 

Thank you for reading my little story! I hope you like it!

Taglist: @mossingvines @kitty-kei @chibistar45

[janearts]

I couldn't help myself from referencing Highlander. There can be only one [wielder of the Netherstones]!

Proper answer (and some character analysis for Roisia) under the read-more.

Roisia was surprised by Gortash, but pleasantly so. In the first place, as far as Roisia is concerned, Ketheric and Orin recall their respective gods in their appearance: Ketheric is withered, a husk of a person, but indomitable, and Orin... well, Orin looks like a flayed corpse with meat-suit clothes, but close enough. Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to be more... physically domineering. Terrifying. Intractable. ...Loud? Instead, here's this charming handsome fellow who is really rather ordinary. If Roisia met him on the street, he'd just be another debonair noble lusting for power. (Join the feckin' queue!)

And neither does Gortash behave as Roisia would have expected Bane's Chosen to behave. She would have expected a Banite to be a tyrant, a Faerûnian-version of the Machiavellian prince, who instils a terror of himself and who rules through fear. Instead, Gortash gently curates among the populace not a fear of him, but a xenophobic fear of The Outsider (whether that outsider is a cult like the Absolute or a group of people like the Coast's refugees).

Roisia—by all accounts an oppositional force to his own—encounters a man who is genuinely, fully, confidently willing to partner with her to achieve a common goal and is willing to swear a divine oath to secure that partnership...

Poor man. What a fool.

You see, Roisia is something of a Machiavellian prince. She would despise to think of herself in that way were she to read Il Principe, but she has within herself some (but not all!) of the traits and qualities that are described within. She is frequently a mirror: where she meets evil, she wields evil with aplomb. ("You desire me to kiss your foot? I think not. You shall kiss mine.") She would very much prefer to offer mercy, but if her mercy is rejected—like when Ketheric imprisons Dame Aylin once again before yeeting himself into the primordial soup—then she will dole out cruelty in equal measure. Most importantly of all, Roisia is a liar and a deceiver, all while appearing compassionate, guileless, and true to her word. Roisia only really keeps her word when it suits her purposes. Were she otherwise, she would have found that Gortash would have been faithful to his word to the last. But as the Machiavellian prince, she betrays and slays him.

Actually, having written all that, Roisia is more of an embodiment of the Machiavellian prince than I originally thought: she is virtuous and good, sure, but she is also intimately familiar with baser behaviours (lying, cruelty, conspiracy, etc.) and wields those base behaviours like a tool when and where she feels it is needed and necessary.

Which is why I was absolutely thrilled when I had her do what was only natural to her and had her speak to Gortash post-mortem. Roisia is a character who believes herself to be godless: damned and/or abandoned by Kelemvor, Lord of the Dead and Judge of the Damned, for being a Necromancer. She had a sliver of hope that she would find favour with Myrkul, but Myrkul thought only of the Chosen stolen from him. She thought, perhaps, that she might find favour with Bhaal because, let's face it, she had slaughtered and bloodied so many in her long journey to Baldur's Gate, but the skull only wept blood and that was that. Bane, however, actually speaks to her, acknowledges her, validates her. She won his favour the moment she betrayed and slayed Gortash. She is in her very nature a stellar Banite. Incredible! And absolutely absurd. Thank you to Larian for programming that opportunity in. 😂

[hobby1008]

could you do a impregnating Wonyoung smut? but where she consents instead of it being non-con.

Lovely wife

If you use a translator, the sentences may be strange.

wonyoung x m reader

Tags: creampie ,Pregnant

Word count: 4717

IVE Jang Won-young She has enjoyed immense popularity since IZ*ONE, and in terms of visuals, she is the best among the 4th generation idols. She's my wife.

Since Won-young is an idol, dating is taboo, but we always did our best not to get caught, and as a result, we ended up getting married in secret.

However, due to Won-young's busy schedule, we didn't have much time together. That's why we were always hot and happy when we were together.

The company gave Won-young, who worked hard without a day off, a vacation, and she happily asked me to go on a trip.

However, because she was an idol, she couldn't date ordinary people.

However, she was incredibly happy that she had time with me, and decided to go on a hotel vacation without being disturbed by others.

The day before the trip, she packed her bags with excitement and great anticipation for the trip with me. She looked so lovely and made me happy.

The next day, we packed our bags and headed straight to the hotel. We checked in and unpacked right away and started to enjoy our vacation.

This hotel was a place where we could enjoy without worrying about the privacy of celebrities.

We had a simple meal and started to enjoy a full-fledged date.

We watched various programs provided by the hotel, such as massages and movies.

We had a happy time like that, and soon it was evening, and we decided to drink wine together in the room.

We started to have a conversation while drinking wine, just like any other newlywed couple, and the mood got warmer, and we explored each other's lips and kissed deeply, and headed to the bedroom.

When we arrived at the bedroom, she pushed me onto the bed and started to take off her clothes.

She started to do a strip show just for me. She made seductive gestures and expressions to me, and one by one, she took off her underwear, and I started to get even more excited when I saw it.

She wore lingerie underwear that was different from usual for me, and I couldn't help but admire her beautiful body and the combination of it.

She was satisfied with my reaction, and sat down in front of me, took off her pants, exposed her cock, and said, “I’ll make it better for you, oppa,” and stroked my cock to make it erect.

She then bit her lower lip with a lustful expression, and began to caress my cock with her mouth.

She slowly licked the glans with her tongue and sucked it slowly.

I stroked her head and moaned faintly.

She looked up at me with a bright smile, “Do you like it, oppa?” I asked, and when I nodded to her answer, she started to really suck my dick quickly..

She knew what I liked, so she put my dick in her mouth, moved her head back and forth, and sometimes used her tongue to lick my dick, and knew the right timing and intensity, and she took my dick out of her mouth, stroked it with her hand, sucked my balls, and said, "Oppa, I love your dick so much," and put my dick up to her throat and deep-throated it, pleasuring me.

I had a lot of experience with her, but her mouth still drove me crazy.

Then she took my dick out of her mouth, and said, "Oppa, I want to do it now," and I laid her down on the bed and started to take off her lingerie.

When I took off her bra, her beautiful nipples rose up to greet me, and when I took off her panties, due to excitement, a lot of love juice came out, and a thin thread was connected to her pussy and panties. It broke.

“Oppa, put it in right away, I want to feel it quickly,” she said, acting cute, and I tried to put on a condom right away.

She immediately stopped me, saying, “Oppa, just do it today, I want to feel all of it.”

I smiled at her lovely request, and immediately aligned my cock with her vagina, and slowly inserted my cock.

As my cock filled her entire vagina, she moaned softly, and said, “Oppa, it’s so good, I love you, oppa,” and squeezed my cock, and I started having sex with her in earnest.

When I started to poke her pussy hard, I slid in a little further each time I inserted it. Wonyoung looked up at me with eyes full of lust and happiness and moaned to the rhythm.

“Oppa, Wonyoung, I love you so much, do it faster.” I started to insert it deeper and faster each time as she wished, and as my cock hit her cervix, she fell into a swamp of pleasure. Her body trembled with the power of my penetration, and her pussy squeezed my cock even more.

He grabbed her ass and started to pound her while holding her in place, and I rubbed her clitoris with my hand for her. Her pussy started to release more fluid.

"Okay, Wonyoung?" I growled and gave her a short kiss. “I’m so happy I think I’m going to cum, oppa”

I listened to her words and poked her pussy with her favorite rhythm, and she quickly orgasmed and ejaculated on my dick.

Then her pussy tightened even more, and I started to poke Wonyoung’s pussy again, who had just finished ejaculating.

She, who had not yet orgasmed, was moaning loudly at my insertion.

I also felt the signs of ejaculation soon, and I told her about it.

“Wonyoung, I think I’m going to cum.”

She looked up at me with the most lustful expression I had seen today, and said,

“Do it inside, oppa. I want to have a pretty story like you.”

I ejaculated right away, in the deepest part of her pussy, at her lovely plea.

Her pussy was filled with my cum, and when I pulled out my dick, the cum that her narrow pussy couldn’t handle was coming out.

I lay down next to her, exhausted, and she was like that. After kissing me

"I'm so happy to be with you, oppa"

That's how we ejaculated all our cum into her pussy during our vacation.

A few days later, I got home from work.

She ran up to me, and showered me with kisses, and then said with the happiest smile in the world, "Oppa, I'm pregnant. I'm so happy I can have a beautiful baby who looks like you."

I was so happy to see Wonyoung happy, and I also hugged her with joy.

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.  

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight. 

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos. 

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny. 

You watched her roll her eyes and smile, 

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested. 

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology. 

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back. 

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more. 

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did. 

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous. 

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

[midsummer-semantics]

Private Lessons

Written for Steddie Kinktober Bingo and cross-posted on ao3!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Professor Steve Harrington, Grad Student Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Teacher-Student Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Sort Of, way too much information about Renaissance literature tbh, Flirting, flirting via Google Docs, Age Difference, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Eddie Munson Has a Praise Kink, Steve is kind of a perv, but Eddie is DEFINITELY into it, Masturbation, Kinktober

Summary:

Grad school wasn’t exactly in Eddie’s grand life design, but he’s not really complaining. Especially not when his Renaissance literature professor is the hottest person he’s ever seen.

Or: English Grad student Eddie has an insane crush on his professor, and when Professor Harrington offers his star pupil private lessons in order to give him more than the usual lecture accounts for, Eddie jumps at the chance.

[Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics]

Keep Reading for the fic! ⤵️

Grad school wasn’t exactly in Eddie’s grand life design, but he’s not really complaining. Especially not when his Renaissance literature professor is the hottest person he’s ever seen.

Professor Harrington was the talk of the school from the moment Eddie set foot on campus. The youngest grad professor in the department — though that’s not saying much when most of them look like they’re five minutes from incurring rigor mortis — Dr. Steven Harrington is a world-renowned scholar in Renaissance and Early Modern texts, has publications ranging from “How Shakespeare could be gayer: An analysis of Antonio characters” to “When life gives you Lemons: Early Modern plot themes in Slash Fiction.” And Eddie’s read them all.

If he applied to this grad program in the hopes that he’d get to take one of Harrington’s classes, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

And now he is, sitting front row every Monday evening for three and a half hours, studiously writing notes and asking questions on any and everything Professor Harrington lectures on.

Harrington is even more gorgeous in person. Faint salt and pepper mixed in with soft chestnut hair that practically defies gravity, wire-rimmed glasses that frame his expressive caramel eyes, a body to die for under sharp trousers and button-up shirts that he often rolls the sleeves on. There’s a tiny tattoo of a robin on his left forearm just below his elbow that Eddie wants to see up close, wondering if that’s his only tattoo or if he’s hiding more delicious ink beneath the professional layers he wears to his lectures.

Yeah, sometimes it’s hard to pay attention to what Harrington is saying when he’s looking like a walking wet dream every time Eddie sees him.

It doesn’t help at all that he’s also incredibly charismatic and a huge dork. Harrington is a font of knowledge, and sometimes he goes off on tangents about early modern printing processes or how much he hates one particular academic for stealing his research years ago. Eddie genuinely thinks he’d be fine listening to his professor wax poetic about just about anything and he’d be hanging off of every word the entire time.

Other students in his class are less subtle about the fuck-me eyes they give their professor, but Harrington, ever the consummate professional, ignores it all. Which is fine, really, because Eddie knows it’s kind of a moral gray area to be lusting after a professor, even if they’re both well past the age where they could be considered “young adults.” Hell, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the oldest person in his lectures at 29, but Dr. Harrington is easily in his 40s so the age gap is as unceremonious as it is taboo. And even if his crush wasn’t entirely in his own head, he’s prepared to beat up every one of his classmates for half a chance that Harrington would turn his regular “Good job, Eddie,” into a “Good boy, Eddie.”

Eddie knows he’s probably doing too much to get Harrington’s attention, always raising his hand more than any other student and doing every bit of extra credit he can like it’s going to win him some kind of Nobel Prize, but he genuinely likes the material so it’s easy to get involved in the discussions. 

His overenthusiastic involvement does earn him an exciting benefit two months into the semester, though. Harrington asks Eddie to hang back after class to discuss one of the latest reading responses, and Eddie’s mind immediately goes to all of the ways he fucked up by saying that Robert Greene may not have been entirely wrong for the way he dragged Shakespeare considering the way the bard had similarly dragged him by writing a fool character based on Greene. He’s got a million apologies already waiting on his tongue while the rest of the class files out, leaving them alone in the classroom.

“Listen, professor, I’m so sorry—” Eddie starts, but Harrington holds up a hand, silencing him all at once.

“It’s a bold claim you made in there, Eddie,” the professor says, leaning back against the whiteboard and crossing his arms. 

Eddie’s face flushes, whether from mortification or the way Harrington’s muscles shift under his shirt is unclear. He tries to think of an excuse as to why he’d make a dig at one of his professor’s favorite authors before settling on, “Would you believe I had an aneurysm before writing that?”

Harrington’s eyes narrow, assessing Eddie as he tries not to squirm, before shrugging, his face breaking into a grin. “I might, except all I said was it was bold, not that you were wrong.”

Eddie’s brain stops short for a moment. “W-what?”

Harrington snickers and reaches over to a stack of papers to pull Eddie’s, right from the top. “I have a proposition for you, which you’re welcome to turn down without explanation.”

Eddie’s heart beats double-time in his chest. He knows it’s delusional, but he’s had many fantasies of Harrington saying words just like those ones and then bending him over the nearest desk.

“A proposition?” he tries not to choke out.

Harrington hums as he scans over the paper again before handing it back to Eddie. A red A+ is circled at the top, which is a common sight, but still makes Eddie swell with a little bit of pride.

“I get the feeling sometimes that I’m not doing my part in giving you enough material during lectures. So I wanted to offer a compromise. Once a week we can meet in my office, and I’ll give you a private lecture on any topic of your choice as long as you write a 1000-word research project on it before the next meeting. In exchange, I’ll wave your final project.”

Eddie blinks at his professor owlishly for a moment. The math doesn’t make sense considering the final project is 20-pages minimum and what Harrington is suggesting would mean writing almost double that over the course of the next 8 weeks, but like hell is Eddie going to turn down the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with his gorgeous professor discussing their mutual love of Renaissance literature.

“Deal,” he agrees easily.

Harrington smiles, a big one that lights up his face for a moment before schooling it into kind neutrality once more. “Wonderful. Email me your availability and we’ll go from there.”

That’s how Eddie finds himself once a week doing the absolute most work he’s ever done in his life, and Harrington’s class isn’t even his only one.

It’s worth it, though, for the two uninterrupted hours of Steve’s attention every Thursday evening. They cover a wide range of topics, and Steve never gives him shit for interrupting to ask more questions because that just means Steve gets to talk more about his passion. It’s one thing, Eddie thinks, to watch the man lecture to a class of semi-enthused grad students once a week, and something else entirely to watch him go on about something Eddie asks him to talk about. If brain boners are a thing, Eddie’s had a continuous one for this man for weeks.

He’s also had an innumerable amount of real boners, but he gave up caring about cranking one out to mental images of his hot professor two weeks into the semester. What Harrington doesn’t know won’t hurt Eddie, and it helps his brain not turn to actual mush every time he has to be in the same room as him again.

Eddie quickly gets into the habit of sharing his working docs with Harrington — Steve, his professor insists after their sessions go on for a few weeks — so he doesn’t have to worry about it slipping his mind later. Sometimes Steve will open the doc while Eddie’s still working on it, a tiny random animal popping up in the corner signaling Steve’s presence. It happens at odd hours, which Eddie supposes is fair since he knows now that the professor has a weird sleep schedule thanks to his own academic work. In the moments where Eddie finds himself and an Anonymous Axolotl both up at 2am, he likes to pretend like Steve’s watching him do something other than writing about the latest discussion topic. Like Steve’s actually in his own bed, his laptop resting on his lap, wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs (or maybe nothing at all) and touching himself while he watches Eddie do the same. 

Eddie didn’t know academics could make him so goddamn horny, but by the time the end of the semester approaches, he’s basically Pavloved himself to pop a boner every time the tiny Anonymous Giraffe or whatever appears. 

The last two weeks of the semester, Eddie’s mostly in attendance out of obligation (and to ogle Steve more) since he doesn’t actually have to do the final project. His last meeting with Steve is the week before finals, the professor telling him he should take the week off to relax and get some actual sleep because he’s more than earned it.

As such, Eddie’s determined to make the final research project for their private lessons the best one yet.

It’s almost 3am when the tiny Anonymous Moose in the corner disappears for the night, and Eddie blinks blearily at the words on his screen that are starting to blend into a big blob. He’s well past the 1000-word mark at this point — 2041 the last time he checked — and he knows he should end it here and go to bed, especially since he hasn’t actually put more words on the page in over an hour. 

He checks his word count again just to remind himself that he did more than enough and —

Wait a minute.

That can’t be right, he thinks. Eddie highlights paper from bottom to top, hitting the keys to display the word count again.

“What the hell?” he mutters to himself, undoing the highlight and trying again. The same number pops up: 2069. There’s 28 words unaccounted for that he’s pretty sure even in his sleep-addled state he didn’t write.

He tries highlighting it all again and that’s when he sees it: down at the bottom of the doc under all of his writing are several words he, in fact, didn’t write, but he didn’t see them before because the font was the same color as the page itself.

He doesn’t have time to squeal over there being a secret message because the message itself nearly gives him a heart attack.

It’s too bad the semester is over. I was hoping to see you bent over my desk with those tight black jeans around your ankles at least once.

Eddie’s pretty sure his heart stops and starts several times as he reads the words over and over again.

He double-checks the doc access, and sure enough it’s only Steve that has it, which means…

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie groans, his erection from before coming back with a vengeance when he realizes his insanely sexy, insanely intelligent professor whom he’s been pining after for four months is flirting with him in secret in his Google docs.

He palms himself over his boxers, trying to manifest the stupid Anonymous Whatever to pop back up so he can keep up the illusion that Steve really has been spying on him, and then a thought occurs to him.

What if this isn’t the first time Steve’s done this?

With one hand still grasping his cock, squeezing rhythmically to relieve some of the pressure, Eddie swipes over to his Private Lessons folder and starts opening all of his past papers. He scrolls to the bottom, highlighting page after page, uncovering message after message that Steve’s left for weeks with Eddie being none the wiser.

It’s hard not to watch your lips as you talk. I bet they’d feel amazing wrapped around my dick.

Eddie moans outright at that and slips his hand under the waistband of his boxers to tug at his cock while he reads the rest. Some are complimentary, but most are downright filthy and Eddie feels like he’s going to pass out from all the blood rushing from his brain to his groin.

You’re so expressive when you get going on a topic you love. I wonder how expressive you are when you cum.

Those fucking pants are going to be the death of me. 

God you’re pretty when you smile. Those fucking dimples. I want to lick them every time.

Do you have any idea how hard you make me? How difficult it is to get through a lecture or a private session without pinning you to the desk and eating your ass right there?

Eddie comes with Steve’s name on his lips, shaking and shivering through an orgasm so intense just from words on a page.

When his brain reboots and his soul returns to his body, Eddie is left staring at the screen of his computer, the cursor blinking in time with his heartbeat and his hand tacky with cooling come. 

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, using his clean hand to close the laptop and shove it away.

The semester is over. He doesn’t have any reason to see Steve again before winter break commences, and he doesn’t have him on his class roster for Spring. 

But like hell is he going to leave this alone now that he knows his professor wants him back.

[curvylizzie]

the journey

it starts with little things. maybe something you do different as a child, something others point out "it's too girly". you hate getting haircuts and you specially hate how short your parents have your hair be cut. you grow up wondering why do you dislike boy toys, boy sports, boy things in general. you love watching cartoons intended for girls instead, but something in your mind tells you you should watch shows such as dragon ball or Naruto.

then puberty happens, and with that comes anxiety. you start questioning things more often such as why can't you have your hair long? why do boys need to do sports? why do you resonate more with girls group of friends? things make absolutely no sense. you start to grow bitter, because you have no idea what is happening. you do not know why do you need show yourself as a boy. everyone is having a crush, most guys in your class already have a girlfriend. for some reason you are finding it hard to have one. you think "am i required? do i need one? i guess...." and so you start trying.

girls aren't your thing, at least not right now. you realize that when you do have crushes, it's usually with guys, but you mistake these feelings with lust according to your christian parents. you try again and finally get a girlfriend. however you have no idea what to do with her, or how to be a boyfriend. eventually you find yourself dshopping with her often, opening up about how you'd like to dress less boyish.

she seems to love you, until she doesn't. she cheats on you instead with a senior high schooler, and you're left in your room with a broken heart, a disillusioned mind and vow to never date again.

at the same time, you keep questioning what is happening with you and why sometimes you have those dreams about being a girl, you question yourself why do you like skirts more than pants and you try on eyeliner at school

all this has to be placed on pause however, as your parents have finally had enough of each other, and your father decides to move out with his new wife. you're left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart again, along with those of your mother who couldn't bear to see him leave the way he did.

you stay awake at night, crying your eyes out, making sure that mom stays in her room. one night you see her in the kitchen, she has a knife. you sit down with her and cry, cry and cry some more until you have no more tears, then you bring her to bed.

overtime you forget everything you questioned. you decide to be what your family wants you to and start working to maintain your siblings. since you don't have enough for three lunches, you decide to give up yours so that they can eat, you can survive on water after all. you start eating once a day. you lose weight at a alarming rate, your pants need belts, and you fall into a silent depression that you refuse to get treated for because it would take time away from your studies and work.

you finish school and work right away, you join the forces in an effort to make enough for your family. your sister decides to enroll in a private program, and you help pay for it. your brother needs school lunches, and needs a ride often. you help around the house and think it is enough. but soon, your siblings grow up and you realize they won't need you anymore. you realize your mom doesn't need you as she did. you start to lose your purpose.

in an effort to keep it, you study a trade, but this still doesn't fulfill you. you feel empty. you feel defeated, you feel sad and angry. you go to a cliff and look down. suddenly you break into tears because you are not strong enough. you try again a couple of times without success.

you start questioning again yourself, and finally try on a skirt you just bought. this feels incredible. and so you put on some makeup. eventually you make friends online who go through similar stuff and you realize, you were never a boy. never a man, you were just a woman all this time who was forced without ill intent to be a boy.

you go on dates, some nice some not so much.... one in particular that broke your heart again, to the point you finally snapped. you ran to your kitchen, just like your mom did, you take a knife, you contemplate what you're about to do and just before you cut yourself with it, you start crying again. and so you decide to instead start yourself in the stomach. suddenly your brother walks in and sits with you just like you did with your mom.

you come out to everyone, your sister doesn't take it well at all, your mom threatens to kick you out, and your brother is the only supportive family member you have. you cry, and you keep crying every night before bed.

that's when you meet him, the one man who seems to not give an absolute shit about what i am, to him you're a woman, to him you're beautiful, to him you're the most divine creature to ever walk the earth.

and so you move in after 2 months of dating. you two love each other, things finally look up. you start applying again for school. you get accepted into a program. you start using more ad more makeup. experimenting, using different outfits. his family is supportive, they clothe you and accept you, they love you and even let the little ones call you aunt.

your mom comes around finally and she accepts you. your grandma calls you before she goes and does so as well.

life is looking so much better after looking so bad for so many years. and suddenly, you see a ring in front of you, and the man you met, decides to propose. you sit in awe, and accept. you look around, making sure you memorize every little detail of this moment, because this is the moment that your happiness peaked. you have come so far, you have gone through so much and finally life is on your side for once.

you cry again, but not out of sadness, instead out of pure joy and happiness, you look around and cannot believe that this is your life. you cannot believe this is how your story is going, and you wish you could go back in time and talk to your younger selves, and reassure them that things will look up one day, and everything will be more than okay.

this story is one of many transwomen in this world, and there are many like it, all different but beautiful in their own way. some are way beyond what this story says, some are still going through the hard times. but every single one is the story of how one woman fights to survive in a world that is so cruel to us all.

Hello, my name is Samantha Danielle Elizabeth, and this is my story

[araivallejo]

I’ve only ever “shipped” characters in two programs I’ve watched. The first one was Niles and Daphne from Frasier, when I was a teen/young twenty something, and Ted and Rebecca from Ted Lasso.

These two pairings could not be more different. Niles was smitten from the start with Daphne, despite being married (!) with seemingly everyone clued in except Daphne herself for seven years (!!) until Frasier blurts it out to her. Only then does she start to view Niles as someone she might love. The Frasier writers had all the tropes on display for this one. Ah, the 90s.

Looking back now as a much older adult, I see glaring red flags in the Niles and Daphne pairing. The man was married, not once but twice, while claiming to be in lust/love with Daphne. Young me didn’t care though. I thought – romance! And when they ran off together, I was smitten. My one and only delve into fanfiction I wrote in 2000 when they both took off in the Winnebago. Oh my. With the benefit of hindsight, I wonder just how much I’d ship those two these days. Now if Frasier were to be remade the creators would have made the Niles character what he should have been all along, which is gay. The early 90s you just couldn’t do that, although the Frasier team loved to give a wink to it at times.

For Ted and Rebecca, I’ve mentioned before that I didn’t ship them in season 1 and most of season 2 at all. I thought this was simply a lovely friendship and that’s that. It was only the writers’ little bantr fakeout that clued me in on the possibility. I knew it wasn’t Ted, but it got me thinking when it was revealed to be Sam and I was disappointed it wasn’t Ted. Why was I disappointed? Then looking back at the earlier episodes and seeing all the ways they cared for one another and seemed to be clued in to each other. I thought – aha! This is the way to go about a real relationship. Show the friendship. Show the trust. Show each other at your best and your worst. It’s not a fantasy. I never minded that there were no obvious longing looks between the two because I saw all those signs the writers put into the show that kept pointing back (for me) to only one conclusion: Ted and Rebecca were meant to be together. The two obviously long for a romantic relationship and are deeply loving people. It wouldn’t be lazy writing! It would be brilliant to have it slowly evolve into a beautiful relationship built on friendship.

My only sticking point on the two getting together was the fact that at the end of the day, Rebecca was still Ted’s boss. Having grown up in the same region at the same time as Ted, I figured his midwestern values would deem that as unethical and therefore a deal breaker, no matter how deep the attraction was. I figured Ted would always choose his son and want to go back to Kansas, but I also concluded he would still need someone else in his life and not make Henry his sole reason to live. That’s too much of a burden on Henry. So if there were some way to have Ted be with Henry and Rebecca not be his boss… There have been some wonderful fics written to show how these two could still manage that feat. Both Ted and Rebecca are wealthy – with Rebecca shown to be “filthy” rich. Miss “I’ll just buy the restaurant” could make just about anything happen.

It all seems like a hell of a missed opportunity. I believe Jason was so enamored of the movie “Once” that he wanted to make his own version. That’s fine – it was his show. I just wish maybe they would have thought more about why they needed to do some of these little fakeouts. Having read some of the writers and editors’ responses this past week I have concluded that while some of this was purely accidental, the vast majority was absolutely intentional to keep the incredibly loyal and vocal fanbase (the shippers) coming back for more. They knew exactly what they were doing. I’m not naïve; I get that it is a product, and they need eyes viewing said product. But this show was a huge hit from day one when many of us didn’t give a damn about the pairing. Why go to these lengths?

What is hilarious to me is what we’ve been given instead of the well thought out relationship is the very definition of lazy writing: throwing Rebecca with some random man we’ve seen ONE TIME in the last season. We don’t even know his name. Yes, he is attractive and clearly Rebecca enjoyed being around this man. I even said after the ep aired that I wouldn’t mind it, but I was hoping there would be more buildup between the last time we saw him and now. And unlike above with Ted, boat man has not seen Rebecca at her worst, nor she his. It does not feel earned at all and that just pisses me off.

Don’t even get me started on Beard and Jane. Jesus that’s a topic for another post.

[lustsright-handman]

progress

[consanguinitatum]

David Tennant's Plays: An Experienced Woman Gives Advice (1995)

I haven't done a thread on any of David's plays in a while, so I had some time yesterday to rustle one up about his 1995 play, An Experienced Woman Gives Advice. It premiered 28 years ago yesterday (which was why I chose to do a deeper dive about it) so let's get into it! An Experienced Woman Gives Advice (I'll use EW to refer to the play from here on out because what a long title!) would be David's first time performing onstage at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester.

Prior to winning his role in EW, the last play David had done was What The Butler Saw as Nicholas Beckett, a role he was warmly praised for. What The Butler Saw ran for two months at five different venues around England before closing its run at the Nottingham Theatre Royal in late May 1995.

EW's playwright, Iain Heggie, had seen phenomenal success with his 1987 tour-de-force, A Wholly Healthy Glasgow. But in the years afterwards, Heggie had produced only a few more plays before deciding he'd rather go back to teaching and let his writing commence at its own pace.

Originally written as a miniature sex comedy, EW was long in development, and received further script development workshops at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow in 1992, and at the Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh in 1993.

Its world premiere would see Heggie's return to the stage.

Initially, it might have seemed odd that EW - with its Glasgow setting, Scottish writer, and fully Scottish cast - didn't make its debut in Scotland. But because Heggie and the Royal Exchange had similar actor-centered outlooks and many of the artistic directors in Scotland preferred a more visual style, Heggie chose to work with the Royal Exchange (who liked his work anyway) and the play made its debut in Manchester.

Previews for EW began at the Royal Exchange Manchester on 21 November 1995, with an opening day of 23 November 1995. It had a small cast of five: Siobhan Redmond as Bella, David Tennant as Kenny, Jenny McCrindle as Nancy, Alastair Galbraith as Irving, and Alexander Morton as Stick. It was directed by Matthew Lloyd, and its assistant director was Marianne Elliott.

The set, which was designed by Laurie Dennett, was quite sparse - a communal back garden and garden shed of a block of Glasgow tenement flats. The music was composed by Paddy Cunneen, who fans will recognize from many other projects he did with David, some of which I've previously done deep dives into (like Sunburst Finish, The Pillowman and Bite).

The three-act play had a runtime of 3 hours and 20 minutes, with two intervals - one 15 minutes in length, the other 10 minutes in length. It closed its run on 16 December 1995. Tickets were priced from £5.50 to £18, with matinees on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

The action takes place on two Sunday mornings and opens with Bella, who's a 39 year old teacher, gardening in her back garden. We learn she's in a three-year long relationship with a live-in toyboy lover, Kenny (DT) who's a former pupil and 15 years younger than her. And that he didn't come home the previous night.

Bella calls Kenny her "charming, fallible boy", and she treats him like one. Former lovers say he's "tall, kind of blond, with a lovely lean build" and "incredibly rich brown eyes." There’s "just no resisting him,” and he's "bastardly good looking.”

David in rehearsals as Kenny (from program of An Experienced Woman Gives Advice)

In a series of interruptions from people passing into the garden, Bella (Redmond) dispenses advice to the inquiring strangers Nancy and Irving (Galbraith), and learns Kenny spent the night with another woman...from the woman herself, Nancy (McCrindle), who doesn't realize who she's told. What Bella does with this information - and how her meticulously cultivated freedom of choice lifestyle shatters, especially given her first love, Stick (Morton) lives nearby - is what the rest of the play explores. We see love, lust, and lies play out as Bella makes her choices.

And there's a scene with Bella and Kenny...and sex behind the doors of a rocking, exploding garden shed!

I haven't been able to locate a production script of the play to see whether this scene was enacted onstage, but Heggie's published script book says this scene, where Bella strips Kenny of his clothes piece by piece before they go into the shed to have sex offstage, had some brief nudity. None of the play reviews I've been able to find mention any nudity, though one article about the play does state that due to "strong language and the sexual nature of the story, the play is not suitable for children under 15." (I don't know how much weight I should give this particular article, however, because it also calls the lead character "Maggie" rather than "Bella"!) Anyway, if this scene was included in the play, it would be the second known instance (the first being that now-infamous What The Butler Saw full frontal nude photograph) where DT was onstage in the buff!

Speaking of reviews, they were wildly different - some found it hilariously funny with barbed, sharp dialogue, while others found it fatiguing. David's "able portrayal" as Kenny was praised as part of an extremely talented cast, and his was called a "great performance".

David and Siobhan Redmond earned Manchester Evening News Theatre Awards (MENTA) nominations - Redmond for Best Actress, and David for Best Actor in a Supporting Role. They also earned British Regional Theatre Awards nominations; Redmond for Best Actress and David for Best Actor. The play itself was also awarded a MENTA nomination for Best New Play. Redmond won both her nominations; David and the play didn't.

Photos from the play are almost nonexistent. I haven't located any images housed in any archives anywhere...so far. That doesn't mean they're not out there, mind you, just I haven't found them yet! I did manage to find a few of horrible quality while digging around in newspaper archives (I'll refrain from venting here about the quality aspects of digitizing newspapers, as that's a rant for another day) but it's a damned shame. I mean, in one of these, David just looks like a David-shaped black hole with floating arms! Nevertheless, I'll leave them here.

Something else I found fascinating during my research was that, like many venues, the Royal Exchange had a tradition of scheduling at least one informal discussion with the director and members of the company for each of their productions. While I didn't find any information on whether a discussion of this sort occurred during EW's run, I have to assume it did. Ah, to be a fly on the wall for that!

And that, my friends, is pretty much the story of An Experienced Woman Gives Advice! I wish I knew much more about this play, but like many parts of David's theatre career, wide gaps in our knowledge remain. But I keep on looking.

Thanks for reading!

[cherubchoirs]

Every time I see that pinprick of a pupil and the crazed limitless energy it gives your V1 it makes me wonder; What if anything could get V1 to be truly 100%, flat hamster levels of relaxed and content? Could it achieve such a state on its own or would it need help from the like if Gabe / V2, ect?

so glad that little pupil gets its character across exactly...fully vibrating with the need to destroy at all times.....because v1 fundamentally is incredibly difficult to calm down, especially to the point where its background protocols might be suspended.

i have talked a little about this before, but v1 is capable of achieving some sense of composure if it can suppose that it's not currently engaged in battle and that the war is, for a time, removed from it. but even this reprieve is marked by restless energy: it becomes insatiably curious instead, still attempting to play, to explore, to relentlessly tear apart its surroundings for what it might discover in them. it wants constant engagement even outside of active battle, it wants its mind forever occupied and stimulated, and that's truly what makes it difficult to find actual repose. it just wants to do, it wants to go, even if that doesn't mean its routine violence - as such, it does need assistance to fully relax.

the first time it learns to do this is through gabriel because it has no incentive to do it otherwise and honestly...it can't really find enough peace in its own mind to accomplish it by itself. it can shutdown if it needs to, hibernate if it must, but it has no true downtime as it is now, programming attuned to the brutal pace of hell and the war it must keep making if it wants to stay alive. but now there's gabriel, and he's tired - the light has been torn out of him and he's drained besides, a refugee from a heaven he freed by killing his own people, coming to terms with all he's done and the lie that his life was. his energy is no longer limitless and his ability to indefinitely push through his exhaustion has left him...put simply, he needs a break. he wants peace, and eventually, when comfort and intimacy work their way into his relationship with v1, he wants to have that peace with it. in his mind, it seems highly achievable, natural even as they become close...but he has to find out that's unfortunately not the case. like. he understands v1 needs excitement and he's happy to give that, thriving in their sparring matches as much as the machine opposite him does. and it should then follow that they can find a more pleasant haunt, in limbo, in lust, wherever, where they can relax in each other's company - it's something he desperately wants now, to start balancing out the sharpness of their relationship. not because he doesn't deeply indulge in that sharpness, but because he wants to see other sides to v1, to see what it might do on an evening spent quietly in time passed slowly.

v1, turns out, is mystified by that!!!!! it can understand disengaging now, it knows how to relate to him without a fight through playing, through exploring, sometimes too through just...listening to him. a lot. he likes to talk. but this, it can't understand. gabriel seems to want very little, but that's the problem...what does it do? it doesn't want to go because it wants to be with him the way he wants to be with it, but it simply has nothing to go off of, nothing in its programming to direct it. so the night is much longer than expected, with gabriel trying to get it to understand what he wants while v1 sits still for all of two seconds, trying to clean its weapons or preoccupy its mind, before it's up to tear apart the house again. but they both know by now this is a relationship that requires a lot of learning and a lot of consideration for two creatures that can have very little understanding of what makes the other one work. so gabriel watches, seeing that v1 isn't leaving, not even going outside, so it's obvious it wants to be here. and soon he sees as it rifles through the home that it continuously picks up books, opens them to read a couple paragraphs of text, and then tosses them aside. he asks it why, if none of the books interest it, and he learns through some rudimentary and frustrated signing that it can't read "irrelevant" text, even if it's fascinated by the material. it's a headache, but it hasn't found a good way of circumventing that programming. gabriel gets about halfway through his offer to read to it before v1 scrambles around the room to pick up a dozen books and shove them at him, pointing emphatically at the pile.

and that's the first time v1 truly slows down - initially it's excited as always, restless and moving all over the bed gabriel takes it to, but eventually it can steady itself when it has his voice as an anchor. it listens attentively to his reading, keen interest and bright intellect attending each word and so satisfactorily occupied, settling in beside him as it uses the opportunity to meet him halfway. quiet. easy. his cadence is melodic and his delivery soft, v1 slowly writing this into its memory, copying down what it means to be at ease. its core programming resists it, but it wants everything it can take from its time with gabriel knowing how limited it all might be. so it takes it a few tries, a few more times of listening and almost brute forcing retirement, but it soon knows when it should slow down...when it itself might want to slow down. and it (quietly) thrills at it, eventually able to enjoy more idle conversation or perhaps just silence, although gabriel still reads to it quite often (it'll figure out that annoying piece of code one day...but it doesn't feel too pressing now)

[leodanbrock]

terrible playlists no one asked for!

this year has been big for me in terms of djing and how it is very much about the curation of a space, what towns prefer as opposed to cities, which countries are more open to niche preferences than others.

i also started making mixed CDs for my friends again, it's something i stopped doing in 2019 when i caved and started using spotify (and here i am now, intending to move away from the platform lol). it's really nice to make gifts for your friends, esp when you are constantly away from your home city/country.

anyway here's some of my # faves i've slapped together from my rekordbox sets/things i've burned onto CDs for friends, on spotify for convenience

"work from home" people at 10am on a tuesday - what the title says i guess. still refining this one but it’s fun to dance to. lots of scandinavian star production. the bird is one of my fav musical discoveries this yr, if ur ever in copenhagen, come see him. was not prepared for his incredible live energy + tht basshunter tattoo (lol!)

forgive me father for i have synthed - featuring some lust for youth, purient, mbv, yves tumor. those kind of vibes.

the sunday sessions volumes - every sunday evening, my best friend and i program music for an hour or two. vibe depends on the day. vol 1 is quite moody but chill i.e king woman, slowdive, chelsea wolfe

pissing me the fuck off all by yourself handsome? - mostly hardcore/punk stuff, a lot of aus 80s/90s bands and onwards

snapping on the latex - funky! thanks fox mulder for the title inspiration.

testicular torsion - uh, my personal go to 'just fuck me up' mix. 16+ hours of unorganised mess from my physical metal collection. idea is you find what you like in here and go from there. it's very broad. also yeah, this is a part two. don’t ask where part one disappeared to.

demazin heartache - some fuzzy noisy dreamy shoegaze to alleviate your springtime break up season n hayfever woes. not sponsored by demazin sadly. made for everyone that went through a brutal spring breakup recently (something was in the water for sure) <3

[bengiyo]

AntiReset Eps 1 and 2 Stray Thoughts

This is the last project from Vidol. I really want them to have one really strong outing. We’ve done Stay By My Side, You Are Mine, and VIP Only. Once more into the fray…

Episode 1

Chapter 1: The First Day of Delivery

I hope the fact that this guy is a history teacher comes into play in the themes of this show.

I kinda like that the uncle suggests he try out the robot because he’s emotionally maladjusted more than in need of physical assistance.

The robot understands social graces.

Chu, I’m gonna need you to stop affectionately petting the robot’s face.

Now, who programmed this robot to kiss this man?

Mmm, this robot seems too aware.

Episode 2

Looking forward to the fight when Chu doesn’t want to return the robot, who I will just start calling Nine.

Chapter 2: You Are My Master

A mutual mouth wipe. That’s new.

Nine said, “I’m not a dildo.”

“Who is paying for all this meat!?! Everyday can’t be a holiday!’

Nine said, “My food is good. Your tastes are just terrible.” Incredible.

We are already lusting after the robot.

We keep flashing back to the dog. I hope they aren’t conflating the pet with the robot if they want me to see this as a romance.

I appreciate that Nine seems to have his own goals.

This was kinda slow, and I found myself thinking about After Yang (2021) the whole time, and kinda just want to recommend that film instead for complex discussions about AI sentient beings and their potential role in near future human lives.

[dish-licker]

Glamgreg (Freddy/Gregory) stuff (and some SB Ruin spoilers) under the cut:

I know the possibility of evil Gregory is a bummer for my fellow Glamgreg fans, but consider this variety of GGY!Gregory headcanons:

Despite Freddy's innate goodness, he's so devoted to Gregory that he will do anything for him, even to the extent of killing innocent people because Gregory tells him to.

Gregory thinking of Freddy as a toy, tool and bodyguard all in one, a loyal automaton for him to command...but eventually falling in love with Freddy. Gregory reversing the changes he's made to Freddy's code, because he wants to know of Freddy really does love him back, or if it's only because of the altered code. (Fluff route...Freddy really does love him, even with his code reverted. Which is kind of evidenced in SB? Safe mode Freddy didn't remember Gregory, but he still protected him.) (Or angst route...with the hack reverted, Freddy is horrified to learn that he's been under Gregory's control and appalled by all the things Gregory has done. Backing away from Gregory. 'You...You are a monster'.)

Freddy who isn't hacked at all, so Gregory has to keep pretending to be an ordinary kid around him, hiding the dark aspects of himself. He's terrified that Freddy will find out and he'll lose him, so he does more and more awful things to try to cover up his past and tie up loose ends.

Freddy, an 8 foot tall, incredibly powerful animatronic, who has a good and gentle heart. And Gregory, a smaller than average 12 year old boy, who is secretly a ruthless, sociopathic genius. Opposites in every way, but they love each other and would do anything to protect each other.

Rich kid Gregory who is so privileged and brilliant, but he's so fucking alone. His friends don't understand him and his parents don't have time for him. He has this fixation on Freddy, a weird childhood crush, so he hacks Freddy to love him back. Even to do things that defy his original directives...to service Gregory in whatever way he asks...and Gregory knows it's pathetic, that he's just a lonely boy who needed to program a lover for himself, but still he goes back to Freddy night after night.

That same Gregory, and everything he's done in SB and Ruin was to keep Freddy. The hidden therapist tapes: The counselors he lured to their death in the Pizzaplex were too close to finding out what Gregory was doing, they were going to tell someone and stop him from visiting Freddy. Security Breach: breaking Freddy out of the Pizzaplex so he could keep him always. Ruin: The Mimic was going to follow Cassie back to Gregory, destroying the happiness he's managed to obtain now that Freddy is with him. He couldn't let that happen. His love for Freddy is fanatical, fierce, selfish, toxic, all consuming.

Gregory, in love with Freddy and visiting the Pizzaplex everyday to see him, notices how close Freddy and Bonnie are. Their chemistry on stage together. But Freddy is HIS. So he reprograms Monty to lure Bonnie to the golf course after the Pizzaplex closes and tear him apart. When Pizzaplex employees discover the wreckage of Bonnie, Gregory forges an email from upper management, ordering that Bonnie shouldn't be rebuilt. He should be scrapped and replaced instead. And Freddy is sad, but Gregory knows he'll get over it. After all...Freddy has him, and that's the important thing, right?

Bonus: fucked up version of Freddy who has been desperately trying to suppress his attraction to children, which is clearly a malfunction in his code. When he finds out that Gregory isn't the innocent young boy he pretends to be, Freddy is like...You are broken, too. He gives into his corrupted desires. He follows Gregory's commands, killing anyone Gregory asks him to, and Gregory repays Freddy by letting him do whatever he'd like with his body. There's something fun about a transactional relationship, a disinterested Gregory allowing a lust-addled Freddy to touch him, maybe while he's playing games on his phone and barely paying attention.

[jaybarou]

i found that the ship name of radiostatic when it is onesided is radiosilence and that's incredible funny and clever!

Anyway, my prompt for a fic that I don't have time to write.

Alastor was tempted. Not by Vox's offer, but by the power it would grant him. He didn't have much in common with the other Vees and he wasn't a team kind of demon, but he could imagine a collaboration with Vox. He had some promise if he changed a few things, so Alastor was considering it. Vox was young, had some charm, and Alastor could get used to the adulation. The guy would be like putty in his arms if he could isolate him from the others.

And to evaluate exactly where he was getting into he was giving the TV a chance. Volume up and screen facing away, after all, he knew how Vox's tricks worked and he was not going to let the fawn sway him so easily.

It was a late night show. Specially focused on mocking the King and his love life. Alastor couldn't be less interested if he tried, but content was not the point.

As luck would have it, they were discussing gossip about the lack of intimate love life between the monarchs. Vel had been stalking their social media and she said it was obvious the regal couple was not fucking.

Vox had brought an "expert" from the lust ring to parrot how any healthy, meaningful relationship shuld have copious amounts of sex.

Another guest had agued that copious may not be right, but sure, sex was basic and needed, otherwise it is not love.

Vox in his moderation role had agreed wholeheartedly. Valenttino had added, in what only he thought was humor, that sex might be needed for love but he had a business that said the opposite was not true.

Then they had kept eviscerating the Morningstar marriage. If there was no sex, there was no love, and if there was no love, the only love in hell, the thing they had built their power on, was there any point to royalty?

Because surely no relationship could be solid or strong if there was no attraction or love or at least something! That was just a big sign on the door saying "overthrow me".

They all laughed....

So much for progress.

Clearly the media was modern, but the talking points had been stuck in a time Alastor was done with.

Like the middle ages.

Was this what Vox meant when he had offered Alastor to join his team? This mockery of power based on the exchange of body fluids, and the fleeting solidity of feelings? Oh but Alastor had been wrong about Vox then. So wrong. And he had been so close to saying yes.

(then alastor interrupts the program, talking like a narrator over the lot, rejecting Vox publicly, mocking their lack of taste regarding their content)

(Vox went off air before Alastor's full rant could make it out and on air, but the tv color bars in every tv in hell was a clear sign that after Alastor's voice joined the fray, Vox had lost)

(That's why when Alastor goes home there is a summons, from Lilith, to thank him for stopping the vile rumors, and to offer a deal)

(and that's how Alastor goes from almost making a bad deal to really making a much worse deal)

[surveillance-0011]

A tentative set of headcanons

Homunculi lack true souls unless they are given one or steal one. These can also be ripped away at any time. If they die without one they shall not go to the afterlife but die for good with their life energy moving through a natural cycle alongside soulless animals.

Similar rules apply to the sins. They are born from evil itself having some soul essence depending on their source and an attachment to the basement that allows these few of them to respawn, but are not really meant to survive that long, more like cannon fodder and a laborer/slave class than anything. Depending on their own skill they can become super or even ultra sins, which also leads to better treatment and status.

They are each adapted for their own sort of niches and fulfill different roles. Wraths serve as demolition crews and bombers for combat, but are often employed by more… politically inclined demons to assist in smear campaigns and riots, both in the underworld and on earth. Prides can be used to power devices and are often found working as electricians and the like in demonic dwellings. Gluttonies are often used to clean up messes as they’ll eat just about anything, but are also employed to taste test food (esp for Satan and other high ranking demons/monsters, lest their meals be poisoned with holy water).

Others are not as useful, but serve their purpose all the same. Sloths and envies are great at annoying people and keeping angels and other doers of good busy as they try to snuff them out. Lusts… uh. Well, they are often employed in those sort of jobs, but usually as those behind the scenes running the programs and whatnot. Fortunately, there are very, very few lusts in Isaac’s basement.

Greeds, of course, are a merchant class, selling whatever they can and racking up lots of cash however. They tend to be the most abundant and will form gangs and business firms if not dealt with. They are usually not trusted with handling goods or currency but demons sapient monsters may have an isolated few as advisors.

Most can also just do odd jobs or general evil underling stuff as long as their one need, partaking in the sin they represent and evil in general, is met. And like, not being killed. When not doing all the little things they are sent to Earth to tempt, feed and cause mayhem alongside demons and other evil beings. Sins range from mischievous with questionable morals to despicable. Only the most adept at sinning and surviving can become ultras.

One sin type will usually be most prevalent in one area, keeping others from reaching the same status. However their power tends to relate to the area they are in, so you’ll see more equal congregations in places where one sin would not trump another. So a billionaire or con man probably has a greed infestation below his home, while a corrupt politician could have greeds, lusts, gluttonys and prides all swarming just out of sight.

In Isaac’s basement, alongside many other places, Greeds are the most common sin. The Ultra Greed here has an almost mafia-like setup, using innocent little stores as a front for his gang. He is in kahoots with Satan, kind of, he’s also prone to going his own way, and intimidates many monsters into letting him have his way.

Other sins are there to help get in Isaac’s way and remind him he is awful and should succumb to sin and despair.

Sins do not need much food (save for Gluttonies) but tend to eat substances or items relating to their sin. Most energy comes from the respective sin though. They can be weakened by the opposite virtues performed in the near vicinity and holy paraphernalia. Sleep is only really necessary for sloths. They mature incredibly fast and live indefinitely until they are physically killed or are starved from their source of energy. Most are left to live and die and do not live as long but if given the chance they could practically live forever.

Keeper is a greed from Isaac’s body, and due to this source he is also stuck within the reincarnation loop and has some sort of soul. He’s basically a “nice” sin, one of few. Of course he is a pretty shifty and selfish fellow, but generally means no harm.