#man I want an iterator robe now

[abs0luteanarchy]

right forgot to post this too

I need to draw more rain world shit

[akumastrife]

Knightmare Of Your Dreams // Dreamling

Rating: Explicit (Just All Smut) Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Word Count: 3k I have no excuse for this. I wanted to write weird and kinky Dreamling with a side of shapeshifting, the thinnest King and His Knight vibes, weird anatomy, some claws and shadow tentacles, and self-indulgence. Written for the "Eldritch" square on last year's Monsterfucktober Bingo that I never finished in time.

{Also on AO3} Shout out to "Violently (slowed) by Mira" that I listened to roughly 200 times while writing this bc its soooo Dreamling to me. also to Zomsaurus for the funniest line in any of my writing ever

It was never supposed to be like this. Death was for everyone else, never Hob. She’d promised.

But the Endless did not abide by such rules; drifted uncaring outside them. If Death could make such a thing, it could be assumed that one of the others could unmake it.

And now that the imminent danger is gone, now that Hob’s safe and remade under Dream’s protection, he can at least admit Hob looks wonderful on his knees.

Dream’s always thought so, and now he gives himself over to leisure to look his fill. He’s well and truly his now, shouldn’t he be allowed?

The visage Hob’s chosen for himself is fitting; muscle encapsulated in shining armor, a sword at his side and the helmet with haloed spikes set reverently beside him. The insignia, mirrored on cloak and shield, is Dream’s favorite part.

A burst of stars across a sea of black, glittering as it moves just as Dream’s coat does. It is the same, after all; a claim that makes primal satisfaction simmer low under his skin.

Dream’s remade him, and Hob has chosen to be his, still. Always.

Everything the Corinthian was supposed to be. Every iteration a pale imitation of the man Dream has followed through time.

 “You do not have to kneel,” Dream says. Near purrs. Can tell the low timber is pleasing by the way exposed skin shivers in answer. But Hob himself does not move. Not even an inch to have his armor creaking.

“Perhaps,” Hob says, looking up quickly and the corners of his mouth flicking up similarly. “But you like it. And I owe you, don’t I?”

Hob owes him nothing. The centuries of give and take sprawl behind them, and Dream is almost certain the scales are still tilted in Hob’s favor.

And yet.

That is not what Hob is asking.

Now that he’s part of the dreaming, now that he’s part of Dream—intertwined irrevocably—there is little Dream cannot know about him. His feelings, his mind, his desires.

It is a game Hob’s wanting.

Dream hums, leaning back in his high-backed throne, crossing one leg over the other. Considers Hob, all his pieces, the laughing light in his soft eyes. Gestures wide and airy with one hand. “And what would you offer? To me, an Endless, who has need of nothing.”

Hob does shift then. “My lord,” said with all the impudence of a knight who ought to be taught to heel like a dog. His eyes drop, hungry and dark, down Dream’s front—

Dream finds himself wearing a velvet robe in the darkest shades of plum and night-sky blue, open to expose the moonlight of his torso. Plays fingers along the sweeping sleeve hems with half an eye on Hob, considering him and the outfit he’s put Dream in with sheer want alone.

“I see,” he murmurs. Watches Hob swallow. Extends his lifted foot, now encased in a soft stocking that runs the length of his leg under the edges of the robe, and slides it slow between Hob’s legs. Presses up, idly, like he is a curiosity and nothing more.

Hob shudders, eyes fluttering closed as he swallows again, jaw clenching against the sigh Dream can almost taste.

“You would like to serve me, then? You, who are now a Nightmare under my hand, and think yourself clever as a knight. All the centuries you’ve lived, and still, you crave a king to kneel before.”

When Hob doesn’t answer, Dream arches up his foot again, a smooth slide that pushes speech out of Hob.

“No,” Hob gasps.

“This says otherwise.”

“No. Not a king.” Hob grits his teeth, every part of his body (tight, honed and singing like a weapon begging to be asked to strike) shivering in an effort to stay still. “Just you.”

Warmth blooms and oozes under Dream’s skin. He lets the satisfaction radiate out as something tangible until Hob’s blinking up at him, expression bare in its awe.

“You are an impossibility,” Dream praises, softly. “I should’ve offered to keep you long ago.”

“I would’ve happily,” Hob says. “Let me now?”

“Be kept? Oh, Robert Gadling,” Dream says, leaning towards him. Takes Hob’s cheek in his hand, cradling gently before shifting to catch his chin in an unrelenting grip. “I am never letting you go, even if you beg.”

Hot hands land on his knees as Hob surges closer and leans up on knees still to catch his mouth in a kiss.

Dream lets himself be kissed. Let’s Hob direct it as hot and slick as he likes, lets himself be lulled under the rhythm like a boat bobbing gently on calm waters. It is at odds with the desire boiling under Hob’s hands, thrashing and teaming to get out. Barely contained in this body Dream has fashioned lovingly for him.

“What do you have for me?” Hob asks against Dream’s mouth, hoarse already with the want like it’s choking him. His hands slide reverently down Dream’s chest, toying with his nipples before following the edges of the robe to his lap. Kisses him gently as he finds Dream’s hips and holds on, thumbs rubbing back and forth.

“What would you like?”

Hob’s hands squeeze, breath catching audible in something too close to a whimper. Freezes, startled by the overwhelming realization and the world that’s been opened to him. Offered to him on a platter.

Dream slips into his mind easily, eyebrows raising at the dozens of images that flip through him. Hob’s brain working overtime with all his wonderings and filthy dreams.

Hob certainly isn’t lacking in imagination. It seems like he’s traded any shame he might’ve had for more of it.

If Hob is spoiled for choice, then he shouldn’t have to choose.

Dream selects a few of them, plucking them out of the mire with newly sharp claws, as precise as a spider traversing its own web. He feeds that thought to Hob while he has him, and smiles at the shudder it gets him.

“Are you that easy?” he asks. He runs his black-tipped claws through Hob’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“For anything, as long as it’s you,” Hob assures him, nipping at his lip.

“I might scare you.”

“You can’t,” Hob says.

Something dark and dangerous flares low in Dream, and he grips the back of Hob’s neck, dragging him back into a kiss. He has to taste him, has to steal his breath until he doesn’t breathe at all without Dream doing it for him.

Hob fumbles to strip his thin gloves off and find the opening of the robe with bare hands. “Please,” Hob groans. “I will be so good for you.”

His hands slip greedy to skin, wrapping around Dream’s cock. Strokes him slow to learn the new shape of him, to thumb all the fluted edges like a tall flower closed.

Hob bows his head to take him into his mouth immediately, groaning softly as his tongue dips into the slit.

Dream sighs, letting his hands wander of their own accord. The armor is mostly in his way, but he is not bound by mortal conventions and can slip beneath them. “You have only ever been perfect.”

Hob’s tongue is heavenly and cruel at once; a rolling softness that deftly coaxes at every place that sparks pleasure like Hob is singularly attuned to it.

The plush give of his mouth is enough that Dream distantly wonders if he had reshaped it to only accept him.

He wants to devour Hob whole, if only he might also feel this all-consuming pleasure.

Hob groans softly like he agrees.

“Easy,” Dream praises again, deftly flicking at every buckle and clasp of Hob’s armor with his claws. It all falls away under his whim, clattering indecent to the floor and echoing through the hall. Leaves Hob in just a soft tunic and breeches, and available to his hands and the shadows that ripple around them in pleasure. They shift and pulse in time with his own heartbeat. Grow larger and darker, building up on their own and teaming hungrily around Hob.

The hunger is its own entity, awakening from disuse in his body and ravenous for it.

Shadows pull together, wriggling into tendrils that wrap and caress Hob like a lover.

Dream can feel him shiver and shake, can feel his breathing stutter and deepen. Feels everything his shadows do, awareness split to watch Hob’s head move sinuous and also in the tendrils slipping under fabric and along tacky skin.

Exhales heavy and inexorable as he tips his head back and watches through the shadows that explore the length of Hob’s body, licking in every crease and curl against the tight heat of him.

“Hard for me?” Dream breathes. “Just from being on your knees, just from having your mouth full? Easy.”

“Merely rigor mortis, my lord,” Hob teases, tracing his tongue down.

Dream tightens his fingers in Hob’s hair, pulling warningly. “I gave you life, and I can take it away.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’m into that.”

Dream laughs despite himself, startled, and just as quickly it twists into a moan at the savage spear of tongue against his slit, the way Hob takes him so deep into his mouth he can feel the squeeze of his greedy throat.

“Do you wish to consume me?”

Hob whines, nails digging into his sides, swallowing again.

“Do you wish to take me inside all of you? Or shall I open myself up so your tongue may taste me at my core?”

Images fly fast and desperate behind Hob’s bruised eyelids, saliva pooling and dripping, knees twinging against stone as shadows finger lovingly along the inside of his thighs. Debauchery, and a spine-tingling notion of Dream splitting his cock open so Hob can lap his tongue down the center of it, giving pleasure from inside-out.

“Steady, love,” Dream eases. His claws betray him, digging into the back of straining shoulder blades. Trace slow paths that almost draw blood. “We have eternity yet.”

Dark tendrils tease up to Hob’s hole, laving attention and worming inside.

“Fucking terror,” Hob gasps, pulling back and jamming his face in the crease of Dream’s thigh.

“Just that? They are so small, just curious,” Dream muses, curling fingers through his hair, soothing. “You have taken more. This should be nothing.” Tightens and pulls, yanking Hob’s head back and savoring the electric groan.

“It’s well and truly different, and you know that.” Hob’s already panting. Shifts on his knees, hips hitching into empty air and then back on the mime of fingers. “More?”

Dream lets him have as much as he can take, humming a soft ballad from the thirteenth century as he feeds more to Hob, stretching inside him; another to wrap and squeeze his balls, preventing him from rocking himself to any sort of satisfying end. Savors the choked moan.

He would play with him like this for a century, like a cat does a mouse, toyed with on just the edge of some finality but never letting him have the satisfaction.

“Please,” Hob begs. “Please, anything you like, I will do anything, just—just more. I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

He’s very lucky that it’s exactly what Dream himself wants. Lucky to be so handsome, to have caught Dream’s affection like the golden-limned muse he is. Lucky that Dream will happily bend time and reality for him.

Will happily help him up from the floor to kneel over Dream’s lap instead, and hold his hands firm for stability as Hob sinks down onto his length with a groan so obscene Dream’s sure it would put a whorehouse to shame.

“Look at you,” Dream purrs, watching every inch of Hob’s face tipped back in rapture. “You take me beautifully, my love.”

Hob laughs, something breathy and aborted, tight around all his edges as he squeezes Dream’s hands in a dozen things unsaid. Squeezes his eyes shut; squeezes around Dream himself, sweat dotting his skin as he takes a blessed moment to get used to the new shape of him remade for Dream’s pleasure.

Or maybe it the other way around, maybe it is Dream who’s been reshaped for Hob, to be used and enjoyed.

Dream continues to watch him, enjoying every detail and shift, as Hob takes his time. Runs sharp claws only somewhat careful up and down Hob’s heaving ribs, keeping his own hips still as Hob begins to rock small circles onto him. Keeps him deep inside, but chasing the little shocks of friction.

“Everything you wanted?”

“More,” Hob says. His thighs flex in an effort to lift and sink back down, building to some rhythm only he knows. It is heaven and hell both to feel him—better than, when he’s experienced both. Would rebuke both for this here, and does with his teeth to Hob’s throat, tasting the pounding of his heart as Hob works himself a little faster.

“And you?” Hob manages to ask.

Dream does not bother with words, just in the tightness of his hands and claws as he drags Hob closer into him, both of them gasping as talons pierce skin.

The dark tendrils are as hungry as ever, sliding around Hob’s skin and covering every inch Dream cannot. Teaming against them both like a desperate creature, jealous for attention. Needy still, despite having tasted Hob already. Maybe wants more for having done so already.

They are part of Dream, after all, and Dream does not think he will ever tire of tasting Hob. Tastes him again in an open kiss, slow and indulgent in contrast to the fast and brutal way Hob fucks himself on him. Tastes every breath and keen that escapes Hob. Tastes Hob’s skin and nipples and cock through the wriggling passes of darkness.

Hob is tight and hot and slick, and Dream buries his face into Hob’s neck, breathing deep and fast, grazing with very sharp teeth. Each press gets closer to breaking skin, and each one makes Hob shake harder.

“Will you give it to me?” Dream rumbles. Teeth and claws dig in so slowly, pressing wrenching gasps from Hob. Shadows build and creep around Hob’s cock, gripping him tight, squeezing in time with his own frantic rocking.

Hob sobs, body tense and face utterly slack in ecstasy. “I’d give you anything.” 

“Just you then,” Dream says. Drags nails down to sink into the writhing dark mass to take Hob’s cock in hand. “Everything. You are everything.”

The smallest, weakest whine escapes Hob. As does a tear, tracking slow down his cheek.

Dream stretches to lick it up, saliva turning sticky as arousal swells. He grips Hob tight all over, free hand gripping his hip to yank him down into a frantic rhythm. Feels his pulse follow suit in the desperation—hears Hob’s do the same—thoughts swirling with the desire to fold Hob over something and well and truly claim him. The desire to hold Hob down and use him as much as Hob himself wants.

Wants most, ridiculously, to make Hob happy. And that is to stay right here and let desire fan the flames of his power until he is growing in size and energy, and still letting Hob curl over top of him as he shouts in painful sharp release.

Dream groans with him, drawing it out of him like spinning yarn, a gentle and thready tug-and-give, taking every shake, every pulse, all the suffusing warmth Hob has in him. Wishes to draw every ounce of damp completion out of him until he is as empty and cold as the armor he likes to wear. The armor still scattered on the floor of the throne’s dais. The sight of it over Hob’s shoulder (scratched, bitten, bleeding) is nearly as loose and erotic as the man still fucking himself on him is.

“Won’t you join me?” Hob gasps. His voice grates and fails him, near hoarse. Keens as he forces himself to tighten around Dream’s cock, trying to milk pleasure out of him. Hob is so tired. Dream can feel it. His exhaustion. His pleasure. His satisfaction. His greediness as his muscles spasm and twitch with continued stimulation. “You’ve made me feel so good, love. Won’t you let me do the same? Please.”

It wobbles. The word or Hob’s voice, or maybe Hob’s grasp on rationality.

Dream only hums. Loosens his grip on hip and cock both, softening to hold and stroke featherlight. “You are tired.”

Hob shakes his head. Resumes languid rolling of his hips.

“You might hurt yourself, continuing like this.”

“You will fix me,” Hob argues. Stubborn in life and death both.

“You are charming.”

Hob manages a breathy laugh. His expression tightens, eyes squeezed shut in focus. “If you don’t come inside me right now—”

Dream bites his lip, cutting it off neatly. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Just…” Rolls words around in his mouth, leaning back against the throne, watching Hob refuse to still.

The dark tendrils, pesky things, help him. Wrap around his waist and curl at his back, stabilizing him, keeping him from tumbling either direction.

“Not yet,” Dream decides.

Hob chokes on a whine, posture shooting ramrod straight as the layers of ridges on Dream’s cock expand outward. Just enough to keep him locked in place.

“You wanted something new to play with,” Dream reminds him, running claws through sweat-soaked hair. “Who am I to cut your fun short?”

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Loving your new yandere set 2! I’m back again to ask a question for all the men (yandere set 1)

What would be each yanderes’ ideal outfit/clothing style they’d want to dress up their darling in? (Basically if the yandere had full control and decision making over their darling’s wardrobe from now on)

For example…casual outfit, fancy formal, the yandere man’s own clothing, etc. Or is there a specific piece/accessory that’d make them go wild like high heels, oversized shirt, sundress, etc.?

Also, will you do the same asks I’ve sent in before with the yandere set 2 once they’re completed? (Ranking as fathers, how they’d behave if their child/ren were yanderes, dream date…any other I missed that I sent in?)

Thanks as always, you’re the best! And I hope school is still going ok for you!

Yandere! Men and their Choice of Outfit for You

Heyya! Well, about the choice to make the second set of Yanderes with the same question. Not gonna lie, it sounds exhausting 😭 maybe if I felt like it, I will do it!

YAN! ARTIST

Arlen wants to matchy-match with you, so he definitely would pick soft light academia looks. Cardigans, sweaters, a-line skirts, pants, with boots, loafers or kitten heels. Then a small, statement pin of a palette on you and him!

He will go crazy though if you wore his paint apron with nothing underneath. Let's just say you won't walk straight for some days if you did that. He'll paint you with his colors if you do that, that's for sure *wink

YAN! DRAGON

Lavish outfits just for you, his royal partner. Silk, satin, cotton of the highest quality, velvet, with golds and jewels to decorate your sacred royal body. And, he'll pluck a scale from his body and give it to a smith to create jewel out of it just for you. Vincent will personally put it on your neck. Then suddenly, the other jewels seems so insignificant...

Yet, he goes crazy whenever you will only wear a robe on your body. God, just seeing you teasingly show off skin to your dragon husband is enough to warrant his want to breed you. And that's like... Everyday.

YAN! THEATER ACTOR

Ignatius would want to match cosplays with you of roles and plays he was in. May it be from Waitress, Heathers, Ride the Cyclone, Dear Evan Hansen, Wicked... This man will conjure casual cosplays with you. Of course, not the costume and outfit itself, but like a casual iteration of it if warranted.

But, his most favorite is seeing you in outfits that he wore and that his character dons. Not the leading lady/man, but that character itself. Let's say, if you wore the JD costume that he wore too, he'll perform Dead Girl Walking all night with you.

YAN! BUTLER

Well, with Zero... In the earlier stages, he would be adamant of choosing outfits that you won't wear. So he'll still clothe you in noble clothes.

But once Zero has developed his own tastes, he'll want to see you in a maid outfit. Yes, even if you're masculine presenting. Something that's remotely lower than his personal butler status. He will have a field day watching you fluster and order you around for a change. And it will end up in a weird power dynamic that both of you will end up wanting for more.

YAN! SUGAR DADDY

Rowan loves seeing you in all of these high end clothes. No, not branded clothes that you can easily see from malls. No, definitely not that. But clothes from runways? Clothes that are exclusive from Fashion Week that has only a handful of copies? Outfits from fashion designers with fees so high it makes a person weep? Yeah. Those. It displays his raw money and prestige. And seeing them on your body is like owning you completely <3

Nothing beats it though if you incorporate his clothes with yours. Like you made his shirt as your dress with a belt on the waist to wear on dates or outings? Let's say that the both of you aren't gonna go to the outing after all.

YAN! JOCK

He will still clothe you on your normal clothes. He liked it that way. He doesn't remotely care about dressing you in clothes he likes, but buying clothes of your taste but with a higher quality is something he will like immensely.

But, if you wear Damon's letterman jacket though... He'll get so pumped and suddenly, with you cheering on the bleachers with his jacket on, he's scoring points left and right. And when he inevitably wins, he'll have his celebratory win with doing his ways with you. Interpret that as how you like lol

YAN! ASSASSIN

You, in formal clothes, but with harnesses? How does that work? You don't know. But he makes it work really well. He loves seeing you in these corporate attires but with touches of his own tastes on your body. And, harnesses are restricting. Like he's restraining you, owning you, making a statement that you're his.

Although, he has twisted tastes though. If he just came from a mission a bloody mess? Let's say goodbye to the clothes you're wearing that day, and that you're gonna spend the rest of the day washing off blood from your body. Yeah, he's into that.

YAN! EX-BOYFRIEND

Lee would love to wear you in casual coquette clothes. He thinks it would look cute on you. And he's right! It fits so much with how amazing on you. And then, he would make you wear other styles too! Academia, cottage, even cyber. He will make it up to you by showering you with gifts of clothes that he knew will look good on you no matter the style.

He will go crazy if you did tropical stuff though. Tropical gyaru, beach core, sailor outfits... He's a sweating mess when he's watching you in that swimming outfit and it's not even hot out (The beach traumatized him and he's coping it in a somehow healthy way).

YAN! COWBOY

Is it obvious? Cowboy clothes all the way! Flared jeans, patterns, flannels, boots, he will have a field day deciding on a buckle for your belt. He loves seeing you in clothes from his daily life. It made it feel like you're integrating yourself for him (despite the clothes being his choice and not yours lol)

And this one is also obvious. His cowboy hat on you will never fail to make him excited in one way or another. If you wear it by yourself whenever you're doing the deed? Get ready. His stamina just increased tenfold and you will be needing a horse to transport you everywhere.

YAN! EMO

Ashton will dress you in Jirai Kei clothes! HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW THAT? As a child of the internet, he of course discovered different types of alt fashion. He got too immersed and found Jirai Kei, and he absolutely loved it. So, expect frills, dark cutesy clothes with a hint of vulnerability due to it's origin, it's the perfect matching fashion with him despite not really being emo.

He's aware of Jirai Kei's dark history and implication though, and if he knows you're not comfortable with those, then, he'll completely dress you in emo clothes. There is a reason though why he went with Jirai first and not emo. Whenever you wore emo, he gets so aroused, especially it's the opposite of your original fashion choice. He loves tainting you with blacks and darkness, with the vulnerability and intimacy he enjoys so much.

YAN! WEREWOLF

Greens, blues, browns... Anything nature themed would do good for him. So, cottage core is the go to for this guy. He loves seeing you in these cute dresses that has floral hints that blended seamlessly with the nature of the place you both live in. Like you belonged, like you were his.

But, seeing you wear stuff you knitted from his wolf fur is what would set him off. Even if it's just a scarf or gloves, he WILL groan from the want he's feeling. Breeding you won't be enough, he wants you to smell like him completely.

YAN! EX-HUSBAND

Inigo, just like Rowan, would not want generic branded clothes on your body. But, unlike him, he will have a tailor to make formal, casual, evening, sleeping, active wear clothes just for you. Only one in the world. Even if the tailor or designer isn't well known, but if that designer is really skilled and do clothes that will fit you, then he's sold.

But, if he sees you in his shirt and nothing more than maybe your undergarments? Such a vulnerable choice of clothes is guaranteed to make him want to have more children from you ;)

YAN! HOSPITAL CHAIRPERSON

Xavier is a simple man. He would love to see you in flowy clothes. I mean, somehow, something on you should make you look free and not locked up in his mansion due to his anxiety and paranoia, right? So, light, airy clothes would ebb the guilt he's feeling inside from locking you up.

You wearing his white coat though would make him throw the guilt out of the window though. He'll go haywire, since his coat would probably have bacteria, virus, or anything that can harm your health on it! So, he'll punish you greatly by "sanitizing" you. Not medically accurate? Meh. He's too far gone to think straight from the pleasure.

YAN! VILLAIN

Eros on the other hand from the other nobility yanderes, he would love to see you wear simple clothes. Sure, he will gift you regal clothes fit for nobility, but nothing beats seeing you shed from your noble life and just relax in his arms in simple garments just like back in earth for him, and just like back in your childhood for you.

Although, seeing you in modern earth clothes for him is guaranteed to satisfy him. Not casual clothes, but in evening gown clothes with high slits, straps, backless, clothes that will kill a conservative lady in Saphiri. It makes him feel like he's in earth, and how he wishes to whisk you away in this life back home.

YAN! POLITICIAN

Maximus would give you clothes that is reminiscent of the 50's. Skirts and dresses below the knees, pearls, something not revealing yet so classy and elegant. It's okay if it's figure hugging, but he will pick something that is not short and with no windows to show off your skin. It's only for his eyes, and nobody else's.

He will go crazy seeing you in modern clothes though. It is a secret, and it's up to you if you decided to tease and test him and wear short, cocktail dresses with a backless design and tube tops. He'll "punish" you for it, burying himself deep in you as he whispers who you belong to.

YAN! MAFIA BOSS

Hades would dress you in something not reminiscent of his work. So light academia, cottage core, coquette, kawaii, anything that doesn't taint you with his job. Although, that "not tainting" bizz is just on your clothing though. Other than that, like your lifestyle will inevitably be tainted. Whether he likes it or not.

If you did decide to wear clothes that fits the "mafia" aesthetic (whatever that means), he'll get inexplicably aroused. Seeing you in this strong and authoritative style is making him want to put you in your place.

[diviningrodtv]

Five Rotten Pebbles ref time yay!

So, I realised I probably had enough already existing resources to make a good reference post. Though, I got stuck using the pico8 color pallete for the video there.

✨Notable Features✨

Fluffy ears/balding old man hairline - Due to biological contamination from the creatures the rot cyst ate before his puppet, mostly Wilson, he is now slightly fluffy. He is very annoyed by this fact, do not point it out, do not pet- "Do and call him and 'Ear-terator' >:]"

"Mascara lines" - You know that one graffiti graphic where Pebbles looks like he has bleeding mascara? That. You don't come out looking your best after being eaten alive by a rot cyst.

Outfit - After the rot dug through his chest it was easier just to wear his robes backwards.

Feets - Feets, they're digitigrade and have two clawed toes. He might be taller if he stood up straight too.

Handhandhandhand - He can use every rotten arm of his like a hand, but they only have two clawed fingers and don't have any thumbs. You also won't get infected by rot if you touch him, or if he bites you. Normally he just rests them on his sides and shoulders.

Rotten arms cont* - They're in there. Like, it would fucking hurt and he might bleed to death if you tried to rip them out. After all, they're the corrupted remains of his umbilical arm.

Glowy - His claws and internals are a bright blue, and if you caught sight of him in a dark room, they, along with his eyes and some spots on his ears, would glow slightly.

He also likes to stand up on his rotten arms to scare random creatures he doesn't like. Scavs.

Nom bite chomp - Iterators in this world cannot leave their cans for three main reasons. First, the barrier of genome modification. Second, puppets do not contain enough brain matter to remain sentient when disconnected. And third, the puppet would soon starve to death, as it is incapable of eating. Pebbles, luckily, was granted the solution to these problems in the form of being eaten alive by one of his own rot cysts, yay! Unfortunately, he now has to eat lizards and other random garbage to survive. Someone please get him a kitchen. He does not need to move his mouth to speak, but his voice gets louder when he does, which is ideal for yelling at things. His teeth are black and needle-like, so I would not recommend daring him to bite you.

Other bits n bobs - He's completely disconnected from his systems. No just opening gates, no connecting directly to overseers, or to the communication arrays. He must suffer. Expect to find him struggling to get an overseer to connect every time he needs to send a message. At least he can still read pearls.

If I missed anything you want to know, just send in an ask!

[ghostinthewires]

Prompt: Primo is spending time in his garden and teaching Mountain how to artfully make tea blends!

Lavender and Honey

wc: 1124 words

Primo is enjoying a peaceful summer day in the sunshine of the abbey gardens. Mountain comes to him with a request for help that he is only too happy to fulfil.

Also posted to AO3.

Primo walked slowly along a verge of grass, smiling gently at the flowers blooming in their beds. It was the height of summer, and another beautiful day.  He had foregone his usual heavy robes in exchange for lighter slacks and a shirt; a giggling Sister had passed him in the corridor earlier and complimented his sunglasses. Sunglasses he had stolen back from his fratellino Terzo. For the second time this week. He made a note to himself to get Terzo the ugliest sunglasses he could find for his next birthday.

He nodded and grinned at a small group of Siblings as they passed, all with some iteration of “Hi Papa” on their lips. Stopping at the end of the path, he turned to look back at the garden in all of its glory. Roses, lavender, hyacinths, carnations, and sunflowers, his favourite. Further away, the area for vegetables and the fruit orchards that all helped to feed the abbey. The man watched amusedly as a honeybee floated past and landed in a clump of marigolds. Most likely one from the hives kept by a few of the Siblings. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when looking after the abbey gardens had become his greatest joy and favourite hobby, but he couldn’t imagine life without it now.

Sighing contentedly, Primo turned the corner to the greenhouses but slowed his approach at the sight of a ghoul crouched over a tray of seedlings. How the ghouls could stand to be outside in their silver masks he didn’t understand, and not for the first time considered it cruel.

The ghoul evidently heard him coming, for their head lifted from looking at the tray to Primo’s steady approach. They stood, and the man immediately smiled. The height could only mean Mountain. The earth ghoul was a secret favourite of his. Not a real secret, he supposed, since they spent a good amount of time working together in peaceful silence in the gardens.

He spoke in his soft low voice as Primo got closer. “What are you growing in here?”

The man looked down, identifying the tiny seedlings. “Lupins. I hope they’ll be blue.”

Mountain hummed. “I always liked the pink ones. They looked so pretty together with the osteospermum you had a few years ago.”

Primo smiled at the memory. “They did, didn’t they? We’ll have to wait and see then.”

He moved to open the door of the nearest greenhouse, letting out the initial blast of heat before going inside. He was aware of Mountain’s lingering stare as he propped open the roof vent to let the air circulate. He let the silence lie for a while before speaking.

“You know,” the man started. “I’ve been an eldest brother for a very long time.”

Mountain tilted his head, in obvious confusion, but stayed silent.

Primo turned to Mountain with a kind look. “And that means I’ve gotten very good at telling when people want something they don’t know how to ask for.”

Mountain froze for a second, then laughed. “I suppose… I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Primo nodded, turning back to the bench in front of him to organize as Mountain spoke. A little touched that the ghoul had come to him, of all people, for help with something. “Of course, I’m listening. Come inside and take off that mask if you want, Sister doesn’t have to know. I don’t know how you can keep it on in this weather.”

Mountain stepped over the threshold of the greenhouse and unclipped the mask behind his head, pulling it away and wiping at the sweat running down his face. His brilliant green eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Thank you.”

Primo hummed and they lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Primo didn’t push this time. Eventually Mountain spoke again. “It’s about Cumulus.”

Primo froze, turning to the earth ghoul. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Mountain said quickly, realizing that had been the wrong way to start and feeling bad as Primo visibly relaxed again. “Nothing bad has happened. It’s just, with the weather like this, she’s been struggling to sleep at night. Everyone has, but her especially. It’s worrying us to see her so exhausted all the time. She keeps falling asleep during meals, and in mass yesterday. We just… we don’t really know what to do. I know you like to make your own tea, I was wondering if you had any ideas on something that could help her?”

Primo perked up. “Of course! I have a few ideas. Come with me and we’ll sort something out.”

They walked together, Primo listening in silence as the masked-again Mountain talked about how worried the rest of the ghouls were about Cumulus, all the things they’d tried to help her sleep better. He thought this might be the most he’d ever heard the earth ghoul speak in one sitting.

They walked through the gardens for a couple of hours together, Primo taking a break every now and then on the benches he had gotten placed throughout the beautiful area. He showed Mountain various herbs and ingredients, discussed what ones went well together, showed him the best way to harvest them. Then he took Mountain over to a different greenhouse where he kept the empty teabags, and showed the ghoul how to fill them properly.

“And if you ask in the kitchen, the ghouls there can show you where the honey is kept, if you think she’d like that.”

Mountain nodded, clutching the things Primo had given him.

“Thank you, Papa, really. I appreciate you spending the afternoon to help me.”

Primo shook his head, smiling. “I’m glad I could help. Let me know how it goes, yes?”

Mountain nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”

Primo watched contentedly as the ghoul hurried away back to the abbey. That’s the nicest afternoon I’ve had all summer, he couldn’t help but think as he walked back to the first greenhouse where he had met the ghoul a few hours earlier. Movement on the abbey steps caught his eye, and he watched as one of the ghoulettes – Cirrus, he thought – met Mountain half way up, and bounced on the spot at the sight of the ingredients in his hands. She gestured as she spoke to him excitedly, too far away for Primo to hear, and the two of them made their way inside.

Primo shut up the greenhouse and started for the abbey himself, relishing the feeling of the sun on his back. Winter would be here before they knew it, and the abbey would plunge into darkness and ice. But for now, he simply smiled as another honeybee passed him by and enjoyed the quiet serenity of summer.

[heliinx]

She is not the first creature of some status to seek his power in desperation, and will not be the last. It is not arrogance that amuses Azriel; he does not find his entertainment in the idea of something “lesser” begging for his aid — no, it is a zealot plying a beast she does not understand for short-sighted gain. Everyone thinks they are different, he muses. Everyone thinks they are above or removed from the base desires of a cult who believes they know what their patron desires as exchange.

He is different, somehow, when he appears again to the Grey Seer. She has seen this iteration before: the form of a tall, well-built man, with four wings of steely black and red which become the armored robes of a battlemage as he alights from transitory shadow; what must be a handsome (by human standards, at least) face half-obscured by a mask-crown resembling his other face and which complements the more fixed crown of antler-horns which splay about his temples in demonic mockery of virtuous laurels.

This form feels somehow tenuous, flickering though it is perfectly steady to her eyes, as if it is some stretched-thin glamour about to rip and unleash something hellish. Azriel’s power is gathered, and he commands, by his mere presence, every shadow in the room.

“Soul-handling is no simple task, Lady Heliinx. Surely you know. I will not insult your mastery of the arcane.”

There is a flicker of poison green between his gloved fingers — the bit of warpstone she’d given him previously.

“But you ask me to do this to a child of one god, marked by another. You ask me to draw the eye of gods already restless and warlike, in a world not my own — to yourself, as well as me.”

Azriel’s eyes are not on her, but his gaze is almost physical. He is not what he was last they met. The shadows seem to press in.

“What is it worth?”

A million lives. Hoards of Warpstone. Riches beyond imaginign (ratfolk had no use for man-thing gold...). Heliinx does not care, she wants the stain of Kharneth removed from her. Azriel's concerns do not inspire any empathy or sympathy or understanding. Oh, she understands. Understands that his own best-interests are obstacles to hers.

Heliinx's nose twitches. His whiskers flex. She thinks up a good answer to his question.

" Creature is arrogant. Gods attention fickle. Will not care-care about the endeavors of a rat." It was only partially true. There were myriad tales of the gods smiting men for less...but that's because men were stupid and obvious. Blaspheming before the very eyes of their lord. Heliinx wouldn't be so foolish.

"But if you are scared-afraid. If I must-must grease your paws..."

" ... Have travelled the world by now-now, yes-no? Wing-thing has seen something by now he wants, but cannot get for some reason. Maybe Heliinx help? Exchange valuable for services?"

[worst-family-heirloom]

Bread is Life

Bread is life, my religion teachers and the priest say. Or something like that. “This is my body. Partake of it.”

I can’t remember how old I was the year my mom decided I was too chubby to eat bread. Seven? I was older than five, because it was after we moved.

This is my body. Whittle it down.

I had to eat rice cakes and meal replacement shakes instead.

To this day, I cannot articulate the loathing I have for meal replacement shakes to people who do not have the world’s worst family heirloom, even though when things are bad again, (because they do get bad again, as hard as I try to hang on with my now-harder fingernails to my grip on an existence where I can simply eat without a Rube-Goldbergesque process playing in my mind and on the kitchen floor) I think it would be nice to drink a big bottle of glorified chocolate milk and go “eh, close enough” and then crawl back into bed.

Instead, I simply cannot let it get that bad again. I live in an apartment now, and I think every pizza place in this country that I know of is on the boycott listen. Israel is committing genocide; the least I can do, less than the least I can do, is manage to have it together enough not to do this.

Bread is life, says the priest.

At some point in grade school (so, relatively little, sixth grade, I think, but apparently not little enough) I am picked to read a catechism. I am questioning my faith, but my commitment to having my ego stroked is unquestionable. I say yes.

The priest invites me and the other kids to have cake with him when we talk in the church. I am the only one of the kids who says “no.”

I feel proud of myself. I also feel, vaguely, that something is wrong.

“What kind of kid says no to cake?” The kind who has such glaringly obvious anorexia, I wish someone had saved me.

One Valentine’s Day, my mother visits my class.

Something is so very wrong with me I end up doing jumping jacks in a supply closet in my little Catholic school I tell my mom I am embarrassed. She says I shouldn’t be, for burning it off, or wanting to. The sense that maybe something is wrong, very wrong, is stronger. I might have been younger. I can’t remember.

Maybe it is because we are in a supply closet, but I think it is more because

children are property, and no-one knows how to take me away, or where to put me.

This is OK. I am all grown up now, and no-one saved me. I cannot play this over and over and try to find the good path out without something like family abolition, and not even my OCD can try to find a way around that.

This is not a feel good story where I got better. I got better; and then I got sick in other, permanent ways. If you spend your childhood trying to be small in order to be treated like a human being worthy of connection, it turns out you will spend some of your adulthood this way too.

There is not an iteration of me who did not catch COVID, because that iteration of me had to be loved like a person and not an idea of one, and she does not exist.

My computer is broken. If it weren’t, I would probably be writing a Hazbin fanfic about cannibalism and transubstantiation for today, as I am, as a friend put it “entertainingly predictable.”

A man in holy robes says I am going to Hell for not loving right tells me bread is life, God is life, and I must eat His body. I am allowed to eat Him. It is my duty to eat Him. It is my privilege to eat Him.

And I’m supposed to be normal about that?

I left the Church and my mother, flat circles of Eucharists and rice cakes, first one and then the other, as I grew up.

I am allowed to grow sideways now too.

(This is not a mean joke in my mother’s house anymore. This is simply a fact of life in my apartment, where my posters and postcards cover the walls and I’m constantly cleaning chip debris from underfoot)

I don’t think there is anything holy about eating toast off paper plates in my flat, standing by the counter after smearing it in vegan pesto or cheese.

It’s just life.

[amerricanartwork]

@hail-strom Heck yeah, you get it!!

I don't know so much about the popularity and value of traditional art on social media; on one hand I do tend to see much more digital art generally speaking, but on the other hand there's always those amazing watercolor or gouache artists that get lots of attention, and the sketchbook artists who seem to be relatively well-known particularly on YouTube. Maybe it's just what I've personally witnessed, but maybe there's more traditional appreciation on social media than you think!

Aside from that, though, I'm not only so glad you enjoy my traditional art, but that you notice some of the finer details on these two doodles in particular! It seems we're somewhat opposites, because, while I love pencil drawing, and colored pencils seem to be an easy evolution from regular graphite pencils, I actually tend to avoid ink a lot! Mostly because I fear my hand won't be steady enough to avoid making mistakes, or that I'll retroactively realize I don't like the look of something after I've already inked it. Nonetheless, I don't use it much, but I hope I can someday get more comfortable with it!

Now the line stuff you said is what REALLY caught my interest, and first I wanna re-iterate what I said in a previous post, being that volume and really getting a 3-dimensional look is very important to me in my drawings. Thus, one thing I absolutely ADORE about traditional art — especially pencil-focused drawings — is how easy it is to convey 3D forms using line direction in particular, and what a spectacular result it can create! It's one of the reasons that, even in my digital stuff, I always try to include some level of hatching just to help me understand the forms before I add any deeper shadows. Not to mention 1. it can also help convey texture, which you also noticed, and 2. it's just really fun to follow the curves of the subject and add all those lines!

And man, you absolutely did notice the graphite (all the dark lines are graphite here) on NSH's outfit, and I'm very thankful for that! Going back to what I said above, it was so fun to add those lines, and I was determined to really show that curvature of Sig's robes with that additional hatching! Plus, I think it adds more of a cloth texture to it, and helped to darken the color when my colored pencils alone weren't enough to get the value I wanted.

Sorry if this seemed a bit long, but seriously, I am SO happy to see someone appreciate my traditional art for more subtle aspects of it! All this past year I've been growing a love for drawing traditionally, so much so I'm in a bit of a rut with my digital art, trying to figure out a process for digital painting and learn to love it just as much! But until then, it's so nice to see someone now just enjoy my traditional art itself, but recognize the techniques I used and sympathize with what I love about making it!

I hope I'm not misunderstanding your feelings here, but either way I just wanted to share my thanks for that!

Caption these images!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Okay, serious talk, I've been looking to invest in colored pencils lately! I figured now that I'm getting more into the digital painting process, why not carry around some colored pencils so I can practice the process traditionally? I think it'll be a nice way to get more used to it and practice shading with actual hues instead of monotone shading; colored pencil drawing seems to use much of the same general workflow as digital painting, and I feel I have many more opportunities to draw traditionally than digitally, so with these I'll be able to practice more regularly.

Hopefully I can get some better quality colored pencils than the ones I have now soon, but until then, I hope you like these two little practice doodles!

[rpvlix]

Has your muse ever been heartbroken in a romantic relationship before?Does your muse like being asked out, or do they prefer to do the asking?Does your muse find the idea of a secret admirer charming or off-putting? - Kym, Ast

Relationship Headcanon Questions

Kym:

I don't think she's ever even felt a romantic-adjascent emotion before in her life. If she did, it was squashed like a bug under her heel long before it developed enough for her heart to be prone to breaking. Until now, romance has been sooooo far off her radar, the only beings in her Verse even close to her level were her family members. So that was a no-go. Even in past iterations no one was brave enough to try romancing her though, so unfortunately no. Maybe some day.

If anything is going to happen with Kym, the odds are VERY GOOD that she will not take the lead. As much as she likes to take the lead in most areas, before she's used to having that sort of relationship with someone then she is going to... stand her ground, I guess is the best way to put it. Tactically unwise to leap headfirst into unknown territory.

I think she would find a secret admirer incredibly off-putting, if someone managed to hide from her it would just make her wary around them. Although that could work out in the end, she's kind of fucked up not gonna lie. I think she would be put off but also kinda into it... That would really depend on the situation though to be honest. And also depend on if you want like a hatefuck thing or like a positive/meaningful relationship. Cuz the secret admirer thing would definitely launch somebody down the hatefuck path.

Ast:

Once. There was a relationship that Ast wanted to work. Thought he actually had found happiness once. But it wasn't, it was just... Hollow admiration being spat out by an uncaring man. Broke his heart in half it did, even though Ast is the one that did the dumping in the end.

Ast prefers asking because it puts him in the position of power in the relationship. However, if someone were to ask first, he wouldn't say no. Ast also enjoys luring people into asking, tricking them into thinking it's their own idea. But an unprompted invitation would, honestly, probably take him by surprise. Just a little.

Ast will act like it's creepy, telling everyone he knows about how scary it is, but would fucking adore the attention. Ast would be posing all the time hoping that secret admirer happens to be spying right now. Ast would be totally alone, dropping shit on the floor on 'accident' and going "oh nooo, I guess I have to bend over to pick this up now~" letting his robes slip off his shoulder and shit. He would eat this up.

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Behold. Our main cast!

Thanks to @rowscara I can now proudly present the three main characters of Tepidus Tempestus!

Let's start off with Chaptermaster Auris.

Previously Ultramarine essentially rose to the position because no one else could be arsed to deal with the paperwork the job entails.

His body makeup is about 70% recaf due to being a irredeemable workaholic. A regular mortal would probably be dead by now. Has gone to great lenghts to skip his medical checkup for ages now in fear he might be deemed temporarely unfit to work and be forced to rest.

Favourite mortal crew-members: Communications Officer Liberta who has his overachiever/workaholic tendencies in common; and Youngling Vellenus, boy born to a family in Engineering who he employs as paperwork-assistant and messenger.

Auris will not be able to evade the medical checkups for too long if the next person has any say in that: Chief Apothecarius Timidus.

Unlike Auris who refuses to take a single break ever, Timidus here really wants a break - but as imperial spacecraft are a tremendous safety- and health-hazard even in peaceful times no matter how well Auris tries to restructure processes and drill the crew, that would mean risking someone dying while he's off duty, which would be inacceptable.

One of the "founding members" of the Chapter in its current iteration he rose to the leading position mostly due to everyone above in the hierachy kicking the bucket. Never had an ambitions or aspirations, just wants to do his job and people not die, which is already an impossible goal given the world they live in.

Favourite mortal crew members: his assistant, Narcosis. Ogryn Nurse strong enough to restrain even the rowdiest Astartes should the need arise; and Castellan Dunst, highest ranking human on the ship, who for legal reason cannot be called Captain. They have a similiar mindset of "leave no man behind" that is certainly not too common in this world.

Argues often with their resident Tech Priest Daimos-5.

One of the more "recent" additions to the Chapter, Daimos-5 origins are somewhat unclear. Doing some background checks revealed some confusing conflict among different Mechanicus circles, and after the death of his mentor it seems like he was on the verge of excommunication for reasons unknown. "Tech Heresy" might sound like a strong accusation until you remember they throw that at literally every and any political opponent in their club.

Due to ideological reasons regarding self-augmentation he hates Servitors with a passion and considers them an inefficient waste of potential. He himself has long passed the 50% mark when it comes to machine parts - and no one knows what exactly is going on under that robe and how he moves. No one has ever seen his left arm either for that matter.

Personal focus of research: warp engines and spacecraft. Considers work on weaponry a [[phrase: barbaric waste of time]] because [[Superior weapon = Useless, if: means to reach target battlefield = insufficient]]

Least hated crew members: Engine-Master Kirrspatt for her technological competence; and Su'us who I cannot explain here for reasons of spoilers in the early chapters.

Again thanks to @rowscara for the artworks, and I look forward to when I can make another post like that for the most popular side characters!

SPOILER WARNING FOR UNDER THE CUT regarding Daimos-5

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

March 2021 Part 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. 

This is a LONG ONE, it’s been A WEEK everyone. 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 5 - a little slow this week, but at least Gene finally flirted back, and very cute flirting it was, too. Also we got Aey’s motivation, background, and love interest. Thank goodness for that. 

Brothers Ep 8 - still pants, what can I say? Clearly I am a BL masochist. Very embarrassing for everyone concerned. 

1000 Stars Ep 9 - the conflict over Tian’s father was REALLY well done. The plot of this drama is excellent, the leads are great together, and yes I totally cried. What, you didn’t? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Word of Honor (China) Ep 16-18 - big battle fighty fighty stabby stabby. Ep 17 switches to “this drama isn’t big enough for two chaotic-neutral godlings!” So what do they do? Drink together and bicker... A LOT. Then in Ep 18 we all get the dubious joy of really freaky puppets. (I HATE puppets.) Also how is China letting this be so SO VERY VERY GAY?  Also, I wanna walk through the forest wearing a smanshy purple robe and waving a big fuck-off white fan around simply because I’m a pretentious fuss monger. And frankly, I feel like this is an achievable life goal for me. 

We Best Love 2 (Taiwan) Ep 4 - not gonna lie, this is looking to be one of my top 3 BLs of 2021. It’s SO GOOD. Big bonus to this ep for treating stalker behavior like the mental illness it is and not as some dumb representation of enduring love. 

The Most Peaceful Place is My Place (Vietnam) Ep 1 - finally dropped (find it under NƠI BÌNH YÊN NHẤT LÀ VỀ BÊN EM on O2′s channel). It’s got actors already comfortable with BL and looks pretty good so far. An angry tsundere uke reunited with his ex, a stoic chef, giving us lots of snap, crackle, and pop out the gate. 

Dear Uranus (Taiwan GL) Ep 2 - I want to love it, but it is just moving too fast. There’s not enough character dev and then they’re throwing flashbacks in? It feels like a treatment rather than a show, and a rushed treatment at that. Bummer. 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 2 (AKA Ep 3-4) - let the cheesy popcorn continue! Idiot remains an idiot; ingenue remains an ice queen; nice gay guy remains nice and gay; obsessive stalker brother is getting ever more whackadoddle. Of course these last two have the best chemistry. (It’s caregiver codependency and the salvation trope. We got us a Leo/Fiat situation going on.​) Plus lots of classic BL tropes because OF COURSE there are lots of tropes. 

Occasionally, I am tempted to argue that shows like H4 or Cherry Magic or Ossan’s Love aren’t technically BL because of the office setting and age of the protags - but then they all behave like high school students anyway, so *shrug* 

Stand Alones

Cute little Taiwanese micro BL Friend or Lover dropped, about bisexual realization within a friendship group. Normally these are too short for me, but this one did pretty good with its 15 minutes of charm, plus it’s abad boy + shy softy pairing. 

Breaking News - Thai BL

Fish Upon the Sky released its actual trailer. The upside-down kiss is gone, which makes everyone sad, and it seems far less rivals to lovers than the first iteration, which makes ME sad. But it still looks good and a more classic BL than GMMTV has given us in a while. New trailer focused more on the makeover trope and they’ve upped Mix’s role (the object of everyone’s affection) now that he’s proved himself. (Or they are using him more to carry the trailer since he has a fan base form 1k*). Starts April 9 on GMMTV in 1K*’s time slot, probably with a 10 ep run. 

2gether the movie is apparently coming April 22 to Thai theaters. F4 Thailand must be having issues or GMMTV just wants to milk the BrightWin cash cow. It’s rumored to be a combination of 2gehter + Still 2gether with some extra scenes and ending. Also, one assumes a lot will be cut out, if it’s movie length.

Call It What You Want released its updated trailer. If anything, it looks more scary than before. What are we in for? April 9th. 

Nitiman got a release date, May 7 on One31. 

I Told Sunset About You 2 got an updated release date of May 27 on LineTV. 

Second Chance the series is coming to LineTV on March 29. I don’t know much about this one. Tons of familiar faces (mostly TharnType side dishes) and some nice looking new talent but a dearth of eng subs. I think it may take on Brothers’ time slot. Line did eng subs for Brothers so maybe they will do 2nd Chance too? 

Close Friend the series is coming April 22. This is a combination of 6 couples with 6 story arcs as music videos (maybe)? It’s an epic fan service with familiar faces like OhmFluke (UWMA), MaxNat (LBC also in Y-Destiny), YoonLay (YYY also in Y-Destiny), KimCop (GenY), and JaFirst (TT2).

Y-Destiny starts March 30, and has starting dropping couple’s trailers. I’m still suspicious given the director but it seems like there is plot (or plots) and a theme. Looks to be a series of 7 single ep vignettes (amended, see comments, might be 2 eps each for 14 eps total), different couple each time, some with supernatural elements, all with decent chemistry and acting chops. 

Sun MaxNat’s tutor/student arc

Mon jaded rich kid meets poor innocent  

Tues sports romance enemies to lovers 

Weds the messy realistic actual dating one 

Thurs hot ghost boyfriend (sad) 

Fri YoonLayPerth coping with loss and finding new love (sad). This one will all rest on Lay's acting so we know it’s in safe hands. Our boy is going to KILL it. 

Sat time-slip memory loss reunion romance 

I’m thinking we can’t expect any of these to end happy or be classic BL. They’re gonna be more slice of life-ish. 

Gossip - BL Outside of Thailand 

Scholar Ryu’s Wedding Ceremony AKA Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korean historical BL) got a legit teaser (eng sub here). @curriculumvtae​ reports that it’s releasing April 15th on WeTV (Philippines & Thailand) and Idol Romance (South Korea), while Will of Thai Bl says it’ll be on Viki too. It’s a short run of 8 ep built on a fake relationship trope (arranged marriage variant):

Ryu Ho Seon’s (Kang In Soo from You Wish) arranged marriage turns out to be with his expected bride’s brother, Choi Ki Wan (Lee Se Jin from Mr Heart). Ryu tries to undo the marriage, but his ill mother opposes this saying the scandal would be too much. Meanwhile, Kim Tae Hyeong (Jang Eui Soo from Where Your Eyes Linger), a senior at Ryu’s school, comes to congratulate him and falls in love with Choi. Then one day, the original bride disappears.

Okay it seems a bit twisty turny for ONLY 8 EPS, but oh my goodness how excited are we? Our first intentional historical BL out of Korea!

We already knew Hong Kong was doing a remake of Japan’s Ossan’s Love under the same name (not my favorite Japanese BL but so very popular) but it’s now reported to be coming to Viu in June. Who knows how the CFA will take it. Depends on whether Hong Kong bows before the NO GAY KISSES regs or if they are going to use this as a political nose thumb... things could get cray with this puppy (the original has several kisses and s shower scene). Are we back in Addicted territory only with added comedy and civil unrest?

Speaking of Japan, Absolute BL (AKA Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai vs Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko) dropped sooner than anyone thought, March 27. But being Japanese who knows how/when/if we get subs. Protag finds himself trapped in a world of BL, but being straight he fights against any hot guy that draws near, but the whole world (literally) is conspiring against him. It’s a parody adapted from a yoai.

What with Absolute BL from Japan plus Lovely Writer and Call it What You Want from Thailand, is 2021 the year of BL being ultra self referential? Sure feels like it.

In Case You Missed It

Faded a gay micro film from Taiwan from 2017 deals with parental acceptance and serves up a ton of BL tropes (piggyback, forehead kiss, etc). I’m pretty sure this was a propaganda piece for legalization of gay marriage, and it’s an interesting nugget of BL history as a result. Yes, it ends happy. It’s cute. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed a day later than actual air date for accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

Man there’s a lot going on right now! Spring has sprung... I suppose. 

P.S. I cannot believe I missed Absolute BL as a blog name. Numbnuts = me. 

[hauntsect]

To say he had been waiting for this day in batted breath would be severely lowering the degree of the feverish desire. It wasn't often the world brought forth another savior, another sacrifice, hope cruelly clawed out by the hands of humanity itself, carved into another of the same aspect. AION, second one of its iteration – an apparently stable subject, so far, obedient and successful on his endeavors, so far. He won't count the side effects, not right now. Oh, how he's longed to meet someone quite like this! Self-preservation always moved humans, both to fleeting salvation as to their downfall... And Hyles was ecstatic to see the lengths at which they'd go for it.

A man contains those hopes and dreams, overcoming procedure after grueling procedure, all for the sake of others – even people he might never get to meet. Lovely, wasn't it? What Hyles himself lacked, this vessel had as basis. Out of obligation, maybe, tailor-made to follow protocol, yet... still so very intriguing. As expected, Hyles wants to touch, he wants to see, to experience himself... So, the meeting that was to come so long after this day is moved to precisely this moment in time.

Patience thwarted by excitement.

The Monarch prepares the perfect, most sterile room available. It's a big one, so clean it's almost blinding, but dim enough to feel detached – inhumane. Perfect. It's both harmony and the opposite, bundled together among cameras, walls, utensils, machinery, and the metal chair were the object of interest was to be thoroughly observed. Robed in whites that helped make his shape and that usually constant smile, containing his excitement behind an expression of fake normalcy, Monarch enters the room calmly, the sound of his steps lowered by his bare skin as they tap on the floor before he sits and stares at his little subject. Brilliant, much more beautiful than he had expected, his fingers tingle in the desire to test him out. He intertwines pale fingers so as to keep himself from jumping right at the other.

"Oh, there's no need to worry about me. I'll be alright, I promise." His voice is gently unsettling, as usual, though his attempt was to deliver a small sense of normalcy, gentleness. Yes, maybe this outcome could be fruitful, the fact that the other did not know exactly who he was meeting as of this moment... Leaving his presence vague, his smile widens, internally struggling to succumb to his desires prematurely. He keeps it in, excitement thwarted by patience, this time around. A deep breath comes. "I'm told there's a lot to learn about you, but I'd like to start with the basics. I'm Hyles, mind telling me your name? Oh, and are you excited to be here? You can be honest, I won't tell."

━@hauntsect

Ridden by pestilence, the gods decreed immolation as a passage to deliverance.Thus men tore children from their mothers’ safety and carved salvation across their spines. He ponders if all saviors clawed their small hands along their mothers’ skirts as the vultures congregated on their doorstep, if all gathered their last strands of hope and plead with the same rigor (I will be good, I will be quiet), if the premise of a better tomorrow was enough salve for the talons flaying the flesh off their carrion. If at some point amidst pandemonium fear withered to grief, rot into resignation. If all martyrs reached peace concluding, tragedy is cyclical. Sacrifice is the root and zenith of our condition as humans.

All dead to the world.

Jaeyeon stopped fighting a long time ago. By the eighth iteration of Moloch, he merely parts his lips for communion and offers himself as oblation. When they call him past midnight to reschedule a revision five weeks before its agreed date upon the request of someone named Monarch, he does not question any reasoning behind it. He merely empties his fridge and strips his bed bare. The events unfold within disjointed frames of a fading film. Cut. Constellations of streetlights peer through the windshield as the only source of light, he may not remember the highway but he memorizes the push and pull of his frame upon every sharp turn, he reminisces how the swaying motion would often croon him to slumber, until he fades to nothing. Cut. They pace across an empty corridor veiled in a pale light, the disconnection of his mind enough to salve his sanity and yet he still retches over the ghastly familiarity, over the muted clamor growing jarring beyond the gates. Cut. They robe him in white and perch him on a metal chair, a clinical clockwork murder of anatomy. 

When he drifts back to consciousness he finds himself in the middle of a room sterilized by a white coating aside from a camera on every corner and a tinted window connecting him to a control room. After two decades, anguish has grown routinary enough to breed a factual indifference towards the procedure. After a minute of white noise, he never hears the static voice stating the revision’s information through the intercom: the project ́s name, the date, the subject’s basic information, the revision number, and the scientist in charge.He lifts his head to gaze at the tinted window stretching across the wall. Instead of the six grey men usually standing in the room next to his, he only finds two operators. The first presage dawns upon him in the form of a lithe figure waltzing into the room. When asked about the incident years from then, Jaeyeon would confess he does not remember more than a gleam engulfing every inch of the chamber. The unsettling quietude reigning over both of them as the man takes a seat on the chair across from him. He would confess he doesn't remember his face beyond a few loose silver strands framing his features, a set of light colored eyes and a smile which doesn't quite reach them offering a false sense of safety. He would confess an uncanny sense of quietude preceding a suffocating consternation. 

“Protocol´s against staff and subjects being in the same room, you´ll get in trouble, go back.”

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 26 - Fighting with Fire

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 3551

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse.

Notes: FIGHT SCENE TIME!

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

“Noodle Boy!

MK!!

”

Red Son’s cries are not getting through. He grips at his robes anxiously, as the machinery continues to suck the life and energy out of the Monkie Kid. He looks around frantically, trying to make sense of the combination of magic and machinery of the mech. He isn’t sure if it’s the stress of the situation or if even his mechanical skills have simply left him, but he’s stuck there not knowing what to do. Even when the zaps fade and Red Son could grasp at the webs that are holding MK again, they don’t budge, and the boy does not stir. He tries to rouse him, calling his name again, and patting his cheek, but all he gets in return is a tired groan from the Monkie Kid.

“Come on, you can’t just give up now!” he says out loud, but he isn’t sure if the statement is for Noodle Boy’s sake or for his own. A distressed whine grows in his throat, which bursts into a short screech when the noise of someone entering the cavernous area echoes around the chamber.

He spins around to see the Spider Queen come out of the shadows and into the room. It sounds like she is dragging something behind her, but Red Son can’t see beyond her large spider-like body. Raising an eyebrow in momentary surprise as she notices Red Son’s presence, she walks in and gives the room a once over. Once she is content that nothing is out of place, her prideful and confident smile is back on her face.

“You’re back, Red Boy!” She sounds more pleased than Red Son feels comfortable with. “But are you back for me? Or for them?” From behind her, she whips around a few bundles of webs and throws them in front of Red Son.

He notices quickly that the webbing holds all the Monkie Kid’s friends captive, but the one that his eyes grow wide and fearful at is the one containing Sandy.

He looks so… defeated. Though he dwarfs his companions, the large man seems so small in the webs. His face is pale, and there’s a sunken nature to his eyes, not in terms of health, but in terms of spirit. There’s a shame and powerlessness on his features, that Red Son had never seen on him, and never wants to see again. Red Son’s heart sinks to the floor. The man does not stir, and for a moment Red Son is terrified that his lack of movement isn’t just caused by the tangled webs.

He lets out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Sandy…?” he whispers, fearing the worst.

Immediately, the face of Sandy perks up and looks up at him. Though tied up and on the ground, Sandy’s face shifts into a bright and hopeful smile. “Red Son! You’re okay! You came back!”

Red Son inwardly breathes a sigh of relief. That’s more of the Sandy he knows, though there’s a shadow across his features that doesn’t go away. Still Red Son shares a small smile. “O-of course, you big oaf! I was trying to free Noodle Boy, but my plans didn’t factor in you all being captured as well!”

Sandy laughs sheepishly. But is cut off by an annoyed groan from the Spider Queen behind them.

“Ugh, well I’m sorry to cut short this oh so joyful reunion, but I must set up my new batteries,” she finishes with a smile. Spider Queen whips the webbing holding the captive group around and they hit the wall with a smack, webs sticking them in place so they don’t fall.

Red Son flinches at the sound, then brings his arms up reaching out, yelling, “No!” He swerves to Spider Queen. “You dishonorable cur! You can’t!”

“And why can’t I?” She saunters over to him. “What is a powerless brat like you going to do about it?” She sweeps a leg around him and kicks him to the floor. He lands with an “oof” and looks up at her indignantly, as she strings along the webs, linking Sandy and the others to the machinery. Then she flips a few switches and says to herself, “Now, let’s see how this works…”

Red Son’s eyes widen as the machines whirr to life and the zapping starts again. However, this time, Noodle Boy isn’t the only one crying out in pain. The engines purr even louder and the lights in the mech glow brighter as power is now being drained from all of them. And again, it is Sandy’s cries of pain that shatter Red Son’s heart the most.

Before he is even thinking about it, Red Son rushes over to Sandy and tugs at the webs binding him. Upon grasping the webs, the effect is immediate and it’s all Red Son can do to keep his knees from buckling under him as the contact causes the energy surges to course through him as well. But he does not let go. He can hear Sandy speak in between grunts as he tugs at the webs around his chest, “Red Son… no! You… have to leave!”

But Red Son has always been stubborn. He grits out, “You never left me!” He struggles between spasms to pull more. “I’m not leaving you behind!” Red Son knows that there is little chance for him to break the webs, but he clings to them, desperately trying to free his friend.

The feeling is awful. It’s reminiscent of when his father was sucking his fire powers out of him. Like being drained, but with energy surges flowing in the wake of each pull. It felt like every pool of strength left inside him was draining; every pore being forcibly opened up, the last vestiges of his own power being taken. He feels electricity and hot iron rush through his body, and he yells, adrenaline pulsing and urging him to tug at the webs harder and harder despite the pain and the pull of power getting stronger.

Suddenly, there’s a large zap of some sort of feedback and something that feels like his ears popping, except that it’s from his whole body. It’s different from when he was messing with the controls. This felt like a pulse reverberating from inside him. He’s pushed back, away from the webbing, and thrown to the ground, crumpling in a sizzling heap.

He lays there gasping for breath, his whole body feeling like pins and needles, as if all of his limbs fell asleep and are waking up. There’s a ringing in his ears, but he can tell that the screaming from the others has at least stopped. He chances opening his eyes, which still have stars dancing around them, but confirms that the others don’t seem to be in pain anymore. At least they seem awake, minus the Monkie Kid. Sandy calls his name, but Red Son can only blink blearily at him.

There is a scoff above him and he shifts his head to see Spider Queen looking at him derisively. “Well that was anti-climactic. What were you hoping to accomplish with that little feat? For a genius mechanic, you really are such a stupid little boy. At this point I don’t know if I should hook you up to my machines to drain out what’s left of your demonic essence or just continue to watch you do that to yourself.” She lets out a tittering laugh and Red Son can only lay there, clenching his fists in anger and frustration and uselessness.

It is too much. The inability to do anything. Seeing his newfound comrades in danger and pain. Seeing Sandy, the man who had helped him get to where he was now, suffering the same fate as the Noodle Boy. And there Red Son is. Useless. And being the cause of all this in the first place. It is too much. And he is furious. At himself. And especially at the one bringing harm to them.

He grinds his teeth, his hair bristles, and an angry heat rises in his chest. Not one of shame, or of rage. But of a righteous fury he hasn't felt in years. His body, which once felt cold and empty and drained, is filled with a warm energy. It spreads through his body, bubbles up to his throat, and as he growls, smoke wafts out of his mouth.

His eyes flash up to Spider Queen, hot red streaks trailing in their wake. His body tenses and he springs up from the ground in a sudden burst of energy, a ring of ember-like sparks crackling around him. Faster than even he can register, he rockets off the ground, slamming his now fiery frame into Spider Queen.

She lets out a surprised cry of pain as she is thrown several feet, and skitters to a halt, her eight legs catching her before she could fall. She looks up at her new foe. Sandy and his companions share her shocked expression as they all stare at Red Son.

Red Son is standing there, red flames licking around his form. He lets out a few puffs of breath, and looks at the fire dancing around him at his command, almost in disbelief. He lets the flames slither through his fingertips, soaking in the warmth and the power that he thought he had lost. A smile twitches at his lips and he laughs a hearty laugh, somewhere between excitement and mania, which echoes around the cave-like base, as he realizes what happened. “Your webs! Your stupid webs, with their energy-sucking! They must’ve opened up the last bits of my power that were hidden, even from me! You dumb spider!” His cackles stop and the mirth drops from his voice. He lights fireballs in his palms, as he turns a fierce glare at Spider Queen. "You will be letting my companions go at once, Spider Queen."

Spider Queen glares right back, cold and angry. "No one commands me, child! With your powers back, your flames will simply become added kindling for my Arachnoid Base." Then she gives a battle cry and charges at Red Son.

Red Son leaps to meet her, punching with a fiery fist. For a larger opponent, she is surprisingly nimble and fast. She dodges easily and lashes out with a few strikes of her own with her legs. Red Son spins out of the way and thrusts a couple of fire balls towards her. She parries his fists and skitters around him, attempting to hit him from behind, but he stomps down with pulses of flames spreading out from below him, causing her to jump back out of range.

From here, she spits out a web, which latches onto Red Son’s chest, and pulls him in. He sees her lift a leg up to meet him, but he quickly burns through the web tugging at him, then pushes out a blast of fire towards her. She shoots out another web, though this time at an adjacent wall, and pulls herself out of the line of fire.

She flings a much larger, net-like web at Red Son. He disintegrates the net before it can reach him, but through the puff of flame he has lost track of where she is standing. Suddenly, a heavy weight slams into his side as Spider Queen appears beside him and uses her bulkier form to throw the fire demon to the ground. He rolls harshly across the floor, but regains his footing, sparks of flame spitting from beneath his feet, and thrusts both of his arms towards Spider Queen sending another blast of fire her way.

She nimbly dodges out of the way again, then gets in close, swiping at Red Son with the sharpened edges of her spider legs. Red Son leaps back, boosted by a rocket of fire from his feet, but isn't able to fully dodge the strike and a spider claw slashes through the front of his robes and knicks his skin.

He tries to light some sparks at their feet to create some distance between himself and the Spider Queen, but noticing the flames, she shifts her position to the ceiling, skittering along it and stabbing down at him from above. Red Son steps back, but finds himself backed into a corner. He manages to duck out of the way of a strike and roll forward.

He tries to put some distance between the two of them, and rockets across the room. He whips around for a ranged attack, but somehow she’s there occupying the space directly behind him, and thrusting a swipe down at him. He sends flames towards the strike, but she cuts through the fire and lands a jagged slash across his shoulder.

He is slammed to the ground, and the impact shudders through him as he catches himself with his arms and knees. He clutches at his now bleeding arm and looks up vengefully at Spider Queen. She shakes away some flames left on her leg, but seems unfazed, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips.

Red Son only just got his powers back and is rusty. Spider Queen is at the top of her game being powered up by an already powered up Monkie Kid and his friends. She knows she has the upper hand, and Red Son knows it too.

He looks past her to see the others still tangled in webs and unable to move. They are looking at him with a mix of shock, worry, and a bit of determination. Sandy looks especially worried for Red Son which echoes the fire demon's own worry for the blue giant. He moves his gaze to the Monkie Kid whose eyes have finally opened, but still seems to be battling consciousness. Yet, his gaze attempts to stay on the fire demon. Red Son looks at him meaningfully. He realizes that he has to fight smarter if he wants to win.

With a shaky, but renewed resolve, Red Son thrusts flames from beneath his palms, still on the ground, causing fire to spread under the spider demon. He forces a column of flame to sprout up from under her. She leaps back, some of the fire singeing her as she dodges.

Now with a little space between them, Red Son flings several fireballs in her direction, all of which fly past her as she moves cleverly around the space. He begins to rotate, trying to circle around her and gain a good angle, but she is agile as well and swings at him with some attacks of her own. Red Son is only just able to dodge them with some of the swipes ripping through the fabric of his clothes.

He slaps his hands together letting a pulse of fire ripple out. She uses a string of webs to pull herself out of the way, and another to swing back around, and smack into Red Son again. He isn’t able to fully catch himself this time, and his head connects with the ground. Mind spinning, and head throbbing, it’s only on instinct that he is able to send waves of fire out around him to keep the Spider Queen away, as he wobbles back to a standing position.

Unfortunately, he’s all but lost track of where she went, and taking advantage of his unsteady legs, she spits a wad of webbing at his feet, just enough to put him off balance. He quickly burns it away, but not before Spider Queen is able to come up behind him and land a harsh blow to his back.

Red Son cries out in pain, which turns to a snarl as he throws fire in a sweeping arc behind him. Again, she is too quick to be hit and bounces out of the way, throwing another string of webbing at him. Slowed down by his wounds, he is unable to dodge and this one wraps around Red Son's legs, which are pulled out from under him. She swings him through the air and he lands with a hard smack on his already injured back. Red Son lets out a gasp of pain as his breath gets knocked out of his body.

He lays there helpless on the floor wheezing and trying to pull air back into his body. His lungs refuse to fill properly, and all he can manage is some keening whimpers.

Spider Queen catches her breath and laughs as she saunters over to him. He stares at her wild-eyed, still trying to focus on his breathing, but he can’t do much more than that, and he’s forced to lay there and wait, until she slowly looms over his prone form.

"Congratulations on getting your powers back." She sneers haughty. "You put up quite a fight, but all you've done is given me yet another energy source to pull from."

Red Son manages a few gasping breaths, finally sucking in some air through his nostrils. He closes his eyes to quickly center himself, before looking back up at the spider demon defiantly. He lets out a tired laugh and responds with a sneer of his own. "Too bad your main ‘battery’ might have something to say about that..." His gaze shifts behind her, and he gives a knowing smile.

"What..?!" Spider Queen gasps. She turns around to see the Monkie Kid standing behind her, free of his webs and staff at the ready. She looks behind him, confused to see the webs that had held him, and his companions slowly disintegrating with freshly burnt cinders. Red Son’s flames had missed her, but they had hit their intended mark.

Upon realizing what all of his fire bursts were really meant for, she shouts at Red Son "YOU!" She whips around, raising a sharp leg over the defeated fire demon, and swings down towards his chest. Red Son just lays there, unmoving, smirk still on his lips.

Before the blow can land, it is as if her form disappears; replaced with a much enlarged form of Monkie Kid’s staff.

The Noodle Boy grows the magical staff long, flinging the Spider Queen across the base, through the machinery, and clear on to outside until she is lost on the horizon. With his full powers released, in just a moment, the Spider Queen has been defeated.

With nothing left to power it and no one to command it, there is a momentary pause where the Arachnoid Base goes still. Then it creaks and groans, as the metal caves in on itself, followed by a noticeable drop as the outer legs collapse, and the whole thing shuts down. Luckily, the main room is structurally sound enough that it does not collapse on the heroes inside, and only some debris and dust is kicked up with the motion.

Red Son sputters, a dull pain wracking through his body as he does so. But he tiredly lifts his gaze to Noodle Boy. The Monkie Kid retracts the staff, shrinks it to carriable size, and finally looks down at Red Son.

Red Son coughs out a weak laugh. "Heh heh, nice work, Noodle Boy."

Monkie Kid doesn’t respond at first, and instead seems to search the fire demon’s eyes. After a somewhat tense moment, he relaxes and gives a small, thankful smile at his former enemy.

Red Son smiles back, more genuinely.

But he quickly becomes worried again as the hero wobbles on his feet and collapses next to him.

"Noodle Boy!" he exclaims. Red Son tries to get up, but finds he's too hurt and sore to move properly. "Noodle Boy!" he calls again, attempting to reach to him with an outstretched hand to the motionless form next to him. He can't fully reach him. "MK?" he whispers.

After a terrifying moment of uncertainty, Red Son's outstretched hand is met halfway with MK's own, placed gently on top of his. Red Son gives a gasping laugh. MK seems just about as wiped out as he is, if not moreso. But still, a smile spreads on his face as he lightly squeezes Red Son's hand with his fingers in a gesture of understanding and appreciation. The sentiment means a lot to Red Son, and he softly squeezes back.

Sandy's blue form enters his vision. His eyebrows are tilted up in concern at first, but his features and hunched shoulders relax greatly when he sees the gentle display in front of him, and from the small smile that Red Son gives him. Red Son is too tired to voice his relief that his caretaker is unharmed, but he gets the feeling that Sandy understands him anyway, just with a look.

The large man leans down and picks up both Red Son and MK, one in each arm. Red Son would normally feel undignified being cradled like a baby, but he's so tired, and the warmth that comes from his two companions makes him relax. His eyes start to glaze over, and he realizes that he’s drifting off to sleep. He manages to take one last look at the banged up, but healthy and alive crew of the Monkie Kid, at Sandy's ever exuberant face, and at MK's now sleeping form, before he falls asleep himself. Injured, but this time feeling safe and at home.

start || <– previous // next –>

[xoruffitup]

Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work. 

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.  

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

[chalkrevelations]

Word of Honor Ep 5, and this is a lot of politicking. (Although not as much as there will be.)

Due diligence, first: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so there are SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the entire show. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch unspoiled.

Before we get to the politicking, let’s talk about what we’re really here for: Date Night For Our Pair Of Merciless Killers. I’m going float a theory about this episode. I’ve talked in previous rounds of this re-watch about how Wen Kexing’s thirst takes on a different dimension when we know his backstory and how he’s trying to get info about Siji Manor and confirm Zhou Zishu’s identity, as well as reacting to him as his one-time shixiong. I’m going to suggest that a lot of the sexual harassment in this particular episode – at least in the back half of it – is about diverting ZZS while he’s trying to figure out an op that WKX’s actual Ghosts were involved in. I think WKX is laying it on so thick here – constant come-ons and physical crowding and repeated attempts to touch ZZS that we repeatedly see ZZS step away from or actually push away - because he’s deliberately trying to make ZZS uncomfortable in order to distract him. More on this in a bit.

Re: the politicking. Straight-up, I’ll admit that I didn’t follow this aspect as close as I maybe ought to have on the first go ‘round because I was distracted by WKX’s thirst, just like ZZS is supposed to be (so, another point to you, show). I’m going to take this in basically chronological order to try to make sense of it: We open on Shenshen fighting Hao Tong and Lv Liu (ugh) to protect Ao Laizi, leader of Tai Shan sect, a lesser sect; the last two living Danyang Sect shidi; and the Danyang Glazed Armor. Shenshen chases Insufferable Grandma and Grandpa away but is kind of an asshole about wanting the Danyang Glazed Armor. He does a credible job of trying to maneuver them all into coming back to the Five Lakes Alliance at Zhao Jing’s place after Zhao Jing shows up with one of the Tai Shan disciples who ran to Sanbai Manor for help. Ao Laizi was not born yesterday and appears to outmaneuver him, although if you pay attention, Zhao Jing actually allows them to slip the snare. I have my suspicions that Zhao Jing wants the Danyang Glazed Armor to stay in the wind, where he’s less likely to be blamed once Ao Laizi gets knifed in the back and gets his newly acquired Glazed Armor took, which I’m assuming – knowing what I know about Awful Yifu from my previous watch – is the plan. This will end up being a big mistake for everyone involved. WKX then gets himself and ZZS invited to dinner at Sanbai Manor, where they get to sit at the head table with Chengling, Zhao Jing, Shenshen, and a dude representing Yueyang Sect, who is apparently Gao Chong’s favorite disciple, despite not being his head disciple, so you lose again, Deng Kuan, sorry. There’s a lot of ostentatious poetry quoting and bullshit toasting of each other at the head table, interrupting ZZS’s actual work of drinking. WKX attempts to feed ZZS by putting a prawn on his plate, which goes over about as well as you’d expect at this stage of their relationship, and which I now have to compare to the New Year’s dinner we’ll see in a later ep, at Siji Manor, which shows just how far their relationship comes. EVERYTHING about how awkward and uncomfortable this banquet is stands in stark contrast to that New Year’s dinner.

Cut to Mu Yunge – oh, this is the guy who was sitting in the back row of the cast during the WoH concert, when I couldn’t figure out who he was or why he was there instead of say, Wang Rong (Han Ying, my beloved …). We saw him earlier with the Five Lakes Alliance contingent that shows up to look vaguely horrified and tearful post-massacre at Mirror Lake. Now, he’s staggering along a deserted street after nightfall, running from Ghost Valley, who appear to be the legit deal this time, in the form of the Department of the Unfaithful. He runs into Ao Laizi and his charges (don’t they have a home to go to?), begging for help, before he gets yoinked away by a red banner that acts an awful lot like a tentacle. Ao Laizi goes running after him. BIG MISTAKE.

Back at the banquet, Shenshen appears to be disgracefully drunk (can none of these Five Lakes Alliance assholes hold their liquor? Damn.) and is busy berating Chengling about learning to drink like a man. There are a lot more weird sympathetic looks from WKX here, along with ZZS. Zhao Jing sends both Shenshen and Chengling to bed like 5-year-olds, and WKX takes advantage of his shameless persona to ask pointedly about the strapping young fellow who escorted ShenShen to bed (aka Song Huairen, Gao Chong’s favorite disciple from Yueyang Sect). There is literally no reason for WKX to need to know this, but it will help us, as the audience, to know it later. Cut to Song Huairen putting Shenshen to bed and leaving, and then we find out, surprise! Shenshen is not drunk! Is not sleeping! Is apparently going to get up and go skulk around secretly …. somewhere. Who knows? We don’t see him again until he has a chance to berate Zhao Jing, which is always a good time, even if Shenshen is insufferable. Pick your fighter, I guess. Back at the banquet again, we and WKX meet … oh. It’s This Guy, Yu Qiufeng, leader of Mount Hua Sect – remember this asshole, he’ll show up again, in various iterations – and his son, Tianjie. ZZS, meanwhile, wanders off, also acting disgracefully drunk, pretending to throw up in the bushes so the maids will leave him alone and he can drink in peace. I’m not sure why we act like WKX is the only shameless one in this marriage. Also, this is … actually not the last time he’ll resemble Shenshen in this episode, now that I think about it. Anyway, ZZS spots Yu Tianjie sneaking away suspiciously and follows him to some part of Sanbai where Tianjie sneaks in then chases out someone in dark robes with his face covered who looks suspiciously like Song Huairen, Gao Chong’s favorite disciple. The banquet gets interrupted by someone who sounds like Happy Ghost berating the Five Lakes Alliance, a maid comes screaming up the stairs, and we all rush out to discover Ao Laizi and two of his disciples, dead, hanging outside the front gate. This really is the worst party ever. Significantly, WKX takes a minute to look around the banquet hall, as if to see if anyone is eying him suspiciously. He does NOT follow everyone to the front gate, but instead ends up outside Chengling’s room when Chengling yells for his shifu because someone’s trying to get him. When they all run to Chengling’s room, WKX is faffing about outside, leisurely fanning himself and saying that surely that wasn’t Ghost Valley, because they were SUCH mediocre fighters and ran away the minute he started fighting. I JUST BET THEY DID.

OK, so, here’s the thing. Back in Ep 4, A-Xiang told Lovelace to take a message back from WKX to tell everyone to assemble at Sanbai Manor. I’m thinking that this time, this is actual Ghost Valley, that they grabbed Mu Yunge essentially as bait to get Ao Laizi, and then killed Ao Laizi and took the Danyang Glazed Armor, so that Ghost Valley is actually IN POSSESSION of a piece of the Glazed Armor, finally. They also, in the process, stole it out from under Zhao Jing’s nose, taking away his chance to have (probably) Xie’er go after Ao Laizi and get it. Ghost Valley then hung Ao Laizi at the gate and presumably menaced Chengling, either as a distraction or to make WKX look good or both.

So, we get Chengling back in bed and see ZZS tell him to go to sleep and not to cry because men don’t cry – thanks, Shenshen. I’ll be sure to remember that when you figuratively stab me in the HEART with your sad little face and crystalline tears later in the show. ZZS has a flashback to telling baby Qin Jiuxiao at Siji Manor basically the same thing, and I’m wondering if this is following Qin Huaizhang’s death? I don’t know, I don’t think we get enough info. ZZS then sneaks onto the roof to listen to Shenshen berate Zhao Jing, who supposedly discovered he had his own piece of Glazed Armor stolen during this ruckus. NOW, LISTEN. Was the dark-robed figure chased by Yu Tianjie actually Xie’er, “stealing” Zhao Jing’s Glazed Armor? Because we know, later, Xie’er wears the Tai Hu Glazed Armor as a necklace. It seems like a lot of trouble to go through, to make him actually “steal” it, when you could just give it to him and act like it was stolen, but Zhao Jing also didn’t know (I think?) that ACTUAL Ghost Valley was going to show up and create a convenient ruckus and an obvious scapegoat to pin the theft on. This is also where I’m unsure about which particular faction scared the shit out of Chengling. I’m assuming it’s actual Ghost Valley, who were “conveniently” driven off by WKX, because also in Ep 4, the Scorpions were told to assemble at Yueyang, not Sanbai Manor, and will make their kidnap attempt there in a later episode.

Anyway, we’re finally back to Date Night For the Merciless Killers, and ZZS chases WKX through the treetops, set to a romantic tune, until they arrive at what will turn out to be a crime scene, where WKX stops ZZS from walking into some Hanged Ghost-style Soul Winding Threads. ZZS remarks this must be the “real” Hanged Ghost, unlike the one at Mirror Lake, because A-Xiang wouldn’t have been able to kill the REAL Hanged Ghost. (SO CLOSE, my friend, but we know that the real Hanged Ghost got got in Ep 1. Although whoever was at Mirror Lake did have access to Soul Winding Threads, as Shenshen and his group discovered them.) At this point, WKX wants to know if ZZS is afraid of ghosts because he’s a VIRGIN, hahaha? He also starts getting up on ZZS, who walks away to continue his investigation of the tree with the Soul Winding Threads. Blood drips from a corpse in the tree down onto ZZS’s sleeve, and ZZS comments that blood “disgusts” him; I think there may be some significance to this word choice, as it correlates to his past breakdown over his work in Tian Chuang and his reaction to the deaths of the Four Sages of Anji - this is the metaphorical blood on people’s hands, including his own, literalized. Anyway, at this point, WKX cuts ZZS’s sleeve. I mean. :hands: He also tries to joke and bet about the identity of the corpse in the tree, who turns out to be Yu Tianjie. ZZS once again will not be diverted and keeps investigating this crime scene like the most devoted Fantasy Ancient China CSI ever. WKX rushes after him, saying that HE’s afraid of ghosts (implying that HE’s a virgin?) and getting right up on ZZS, enough so that ZZS physically pushes him away, as they reach a second body on the ground. Dark-robed, masked, turns out to be Song Huairen, Gao Chong’s (former) favorite disciple, who ZZS theorizes is the traitor who was after the Tai Hu Glazed Armor. There’s a repeated pattern here of WKX really pushing the sexual harassment and other diversionary tactics every time ZZS is working to figure out a piece of this puzzle, which might take him too close to WKX, up until the point when ZZS advances a theory that points away from WKX. ZZS is clearly working his way toward WKX, though, even with some of the wrong turns he’s making. The last thing we do in this ep is move on to the Zhao Coffin Home, where they encounter the Drunk Like a Dream incense and the Drug Men. On entering the place, ZZS pulls WKX back from more Soul Winding Threads, but he then pulls away when WKX tries to put a hand on his shoulder. WKX asks ZZS who he is, again, and it sounds like this time he’s asking more than what the face under the mask looks like. ZZS responds by asking WKX who HE is, and the way he says it – this is where I really begin to think he’s getting suspicious. You can see the wheels turning.

Final observation:

We get two SUPER SIGNIFICANT things at the end of this ep: There’s what I think is the first use of “Lao Wen,” shouted by ZZS in warning when WKX is wandering around high and the Drug Men show up. And WKX calls ZZS “Zhou Zishu” – not Zhou Xu – when he complains about being made to drink the Drunk Like A Dream antidote. ZZS notices.

[curiosity-killed]

unspectacular things

Word count: 1509 on ao3

“Gege, why did you become the Guoshi of Yong An?” He’s been banished to lean against a tree while Xie Lian washes out his spare robes — a singular set, just as plain and worn as the ones he’s currently wearing. Hua Cheng itches with the urge to tell him to set it aside; he could summon up chests full of fine silk robes, soft as a breeze with none of the ground-in stains of these, or he could at least call up a ghost to clean the robes for His Highness. It would be easy as a flick of his fingers. But — but he’s trying not to push too much. And Xie Lian has seemed oddly content with the work, tying his sleeves back and humming absentminded tunes as he scrubs. “It really was an accident,” Xie Lian says with a little laugh, self-conscious. Hua Cheng waits, toying with the end of his braid. He’s not sure when he learned patience; it certainly wasn’t a skill of his when he was alive. For His Highness, though, he could wait millennia and not grow restless.

“After my first banishment,” Xie Lian says after a moment, wringing the fabric between his hands, “I — I did some awful things. I wasn’t a very good person. But there was someone — a nameless ghost — who stayed by me all that time.”

The coral bead bites into the pads of Hua Cheng’s fingers as he freezes, pressing down too hard in surprise. It takes a moment for his voice to work. When it does, it comes out distant, as if spoken by someone else entirely. “Your Highness remembers someone so insignificant?” he asks. A small furrow appears in Xie Lian’s brow, one hand reaching up to brush against the string of his bamboo hat before falling back to the robes. “He believed in me when I least deserved it,” he says simply. “I treated him poorly, and he still sacrificed himself to save me from my own mistake. That’s not insignificant.” It’s not like Hua Cheng has forgotten this. For most of the last eight hundred years, he had managed to protect his prince only twice. It wasn’t enough in either case, but he still remembers the brutal seed of satisfaction he felt as the spirits tore him apart, knowing that His Highness had returned to himself, would fight against that filthy demon instead of following its insidious lead. He’d died with a grin, that time. But he’d never expect Xie Lian to remember it, to remember any version of him. He doesn’t squirm, but he shifts uneasily against the bark, unsure of what to make of this discovery. Xie Lian’s lips thin. He draws in a breath before shaking his head slightly.

“He helped remind me of what mattered, how I wanted to help the common people. I guess…I thought that maybe if I tried to help people, I could become more like someone who deserved his faith,” he says. “As Guoshi, I could see how Yong An treated the remnants of Xianle, but I could also…do better. Or at least try.” Discomfort tremors up Hua Cheng’s bones, like he’s woken to the world tilted half a rotation to the left. It’s one thing if His Highness remembers some iteration of him, but it’s unthinkable that he should feel any sort of debt or unworthiness. The notion has his head spinning. “It would be any ghost’s honor to die for Your Highness,” he says. The look Xie Lian slides him is somewhere between a frown and a smile, like he’s trying to piece Hua Cheng together but enjoying the puzzle. He doesn’t know what to make of that, either. “I don’t want anyone to die for me,” Xie Lian says as he draws the robes up from the water. “My dream was always to protect the common people, not the other way around.” Pursing his lips, Hua Cheng lets his gaze fall away from Xie Lian’s face to rest on his hands. Sunlight limns each square knuckle, paints gold along the callouses from swordplay and hard work. He’s never understood Xie Lian’s belief in the common people. Humanity is ugly and vicious, monstrous even when it grins. He is proof of that. So much of Xie Lian’s own suffering is proof — and yet still, still, he stands there in his faded white robes and extends his hand over and over again to the undeserving masses. Humanity’s failings reveal his own divinity, and still, Xie Lian puts his faith in them. “Besides,” Xie Lian says, “he had more to live for than dying for my mistakes. He had a beloved still in the world somewhere.” Yes, Hua Cheng thinks, staring a little, and he was an idiot to think he knew what it meant to love. What did he know of it back then? Devotion, worship — the willingness to die a thousand deaths if it was in Xie Lian’s name. Wu Ming was useless and foolish, still just a child playing at maturity. “I should have helped him find them, instead,” Xie Lian says, as if to himself. “He did.”

Xie Lian startles, twisting from where he’s spreading his robe out to dry on some rocks, and Hua Cheng curses himself for his own runaway words. “It’s been so many centuries, gege,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head as casually as he can. “Surely he found them either in death or in their next life.” Surprise flickers across Xie Lian’s expression before he dips his head. A smile curls his lips, soft and warm and cracking Hua Cheng’s unbeating heart down the center. He looks up with a brighter smile, a teasing edge to the way he narrows his eyes. “San Lang ah, such a romantic,” he teases. “Who would have thought Crimson Rain Sought Flowers was so sweet?” Hua Cheng scoffs, looking away, but he can feel the smile tugging at his lips even as he does. The grass rustles as Xie Lian stands, and Hua Cheng looks up as he folds himself down to sit in a patch of sunlight nearer to him. Xie Lian smiles up at the dappled light with his eyes closed, and Hua Cheng thinks, in that instant, that he would die every day to see a single moment of such contentment in Xie Lian’s face. Even now, centuries removed from the throne, he sits with the graceful posture of a prince. His hands lay one over the other just shy of his knees, his sleeves still pulled back to reveal that silk band wound around one wrist and the other bared up to the elbow. “Ah but San Lang, you still haven’t told your beloved either,” he says, blinking his eyes open to look at Hua Cheng. The sun catches in the darks of his eyes and warms them to firelit copper. Hua Cheng exhales a soft laugh and tilts his face toward the canopy. “For me, gege, I only want for them to be safe and happy,” he says. “If I can protect them somehow, that is enough.” At his side, Xie Lian makes a small humming noise like he’s thinking. Quiet settles between them, warm like the sun. From the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng can see Xie Lian breathing in the cool breeze, his hair catching on the wind and lifting in strands from his shoulders. “Your beloved is very lucky,” Xie Lian says after a while, quietly. “When you tell them, I am certain they will be the happiest person in the world.” For a moment, he almost tells him. He almost turns to Xie Lian and says no you’re not. You’re the unluckiest person I’ve ever met. But Xie Lian is too kind. He would smile softly and apologize for not reciprocating Hua Cheng’s feelings, as if it is by some failing of his own that so unworthy a creature loves him, and he would take that hurt upon himself. Memory is a long step from love. So Hua Cheng rolls his head back toward Xie Lian and grins, easy and teasing. “Now who is the romantic, gege mm?” Startling, Xie Lian laughs like the high, clear ring of a bell. Hua Cheng allows himself a brief sense of smug satisfaction at having drawn out such a joyful noise. “Ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian laughs, breaking his own posture to lean back on his palms like he’s a carefree boy, “forgive this old man his sentimentality.” His voice is cheerful and not terribly repentant, and Hua Cheng grins as he leans back against the tree, dropping one hand to his lap. They’re close enough that he can shift his leg over to nudge Xie Lian with one knee. It still sends a little thrill through him to be permitted such gestures, doubly so when Xie Lian’s eyes crinkle up with a smile at the touch. Exhaling, Hua Cheng tilts his gaze back up toward the canopy and lets his leg stay barely pressed against Xie Lian’s. It’s more than enough.