#miscreant records

[luchael]

I think it’s a mix of me sounding like a broken record and the way I play my game, but I really do feel like Fenris is awfully reasonable towards the mages and gives mage Hawke a lot of goodwill by not killing them or shutting them down outright. Because what are we to him if not a slightly more able albeit even more dangerous hired sword? If he was as bitter and angry and broody as is the belief, he could’ve left on his own long ago. He has the freedom and the means to not stick to Hawke but instead he chose to stay and even offered his services and stuck with this band of miscreants under the guise of repaying them. He also immediately apologized for showing his displeasure with mages in front of Hawke but his gratitude is still genuine. I really respect the way he is conducting himself and not indiscriminately piles up all “mages” on the same pyre.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Extended Contract Chapter 1

Fae Prince Sun, Fae Prince Moon, Fae King Eclipse x Witch Reader

(You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.)

Warnings: kidnapping, suggestive themes, gore and the usual Fae tomfoolery

“May I have your name?“

“Of course, it is Y/N.“

“Your precious contribution is very much appreciated.“

It is not every day that one seals their own fate because of a simple misunderstanding of idioms and literal meanings, but there you were, bound to the realm of the Fae Folk and belonging to the royal twins of the Celestial Court. Mondays were known to be unlucky days, but this was just ridiculous.

You weren't really in the mood for getting abducted, thank you very much.

There were so many assignments and drafts due next week and you feared Vanessa's wrath far more than you feared the dark magic of enamoured Fae.

Furthermore, you had the misfortune of being stuck with those mischievous miscreants in the middle of the witching hour. The law firm building was empty, the cranky doorman had left hours ago and the janitor had the habit of never arriving before six in the morning. You could scream, but that would not do much good. The cameras did not pick up sound and technology could not record the presence of the Fae, so the only thing you would accomplish is create evidence of your own insanity.

“Excuse me, I really must protest.“

You were in the process of trying to escape the grip of the regal solar-themed Fae. He seemed rather amused, since you weren't really successful, but he almost seemed to be playfully encouraging you to keep trying. Prince Sun had always been a very supportive person, even if he was the one causing the problem in the first place.

“Go on, beautiful, nobody is stopping you. I think that every once in a while everybody needs to raise objections and such. It is healthy.“

His lunar twin grinned, red eyes glowing with roguish mirth.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, brother. We fully encourage sincerity and dialogue.“

You told them that you wanted to make an appeal. They happily informed you that such a thing was not possible and that you officially belonged to them. You were certainly not touched by their infectious enthusiasm. After all, being gifted with a human's True Name was an experience akin to a cat falling into a whole box full of catnip for them.

“You will play with us forever."

“The Celestial Court is a wondrous place.“

“Word games galore.“

“But beware, for danger lurks in each syllable, my love.“

“Blades caress the consonants and glide along the vowels.“

“Running is futile, but at least it is a very healthy activity. It is always important to get some cardio for the day.“

By all logic, you should be feeling some form of despair and terror, but you were mostly suffering from a horrible case of injured pride. You had fallen for the oldest trick since the dawn of magic. You were an absolute idiot. True, you were running on two cups of coffee, you had not slept properly in a week and your blood sugar levels were more tragic than Shakespeare's “Hamlet“. In your defense, working for William Afton, attorney at law, was no walk in the bloody park. Especially when you had Vanessa as your immediate taskmaster.

You had grown tired of struggling, giving yourself a few moments of respite. Prince Sun was holding you bridal style, his blue gaze soft, showing a type of adoration one would give to a hidden treasure, a joy one experiences when holding a droplet of water in a desert.

Prince Moon had a personality that was diametrically opposite to that of his brother. Hunger reigned in his eyes. Your essence was intoxicating, calling for him, enticing him. You dared not even imagine what his claws could do to you, nor what he could accomplish with his razor-sharp teeth.

Rowan charms could no longer save you, nor could silver. Leaves of holly had no more power, either. You couldn't bribe the royal twins with cream either, since apparently you were the new dessert in the grand scheme of things.

Moon reached out with his claws, searching for your delicate hand. He traced his claw along the sensitive flesh of your inner wrist with all the fervour and ardour of a lover, inspecting the soft skin. Upon giving your name to them, two different markings had manifested on each inner wrist respectively. A crescent moon on the right one and the mark of the sun on the left one.

“Gentlemen, there has obviously been a bit of a miscommunication.“

“Yes, those tend to be very practical in our line of work.“

“I don't have time for this, do you have any idea how many assignments I have due next week?“

“Actually, we do. I must voice our disapproval of you overworking yourself in general. Following orders of such unworthy scoundrels.“

“Well, I am not really in the mood for changing one group of masters for another. I wish to be taken to the Fae King.“

“You will meet him later anyway, he is a bit busy now.“

“No, no, not in that way. I wish to make my complaint.“

“Haven't we closed that topic already?“

“I demand my freedom back. You two said that King Eclipse could grant it to me if I convince him to. Although, I see now that this statement does not exclude you two being capable of the same thing and most likely you are just using the wording to trick me to stop asking you.“

“Can you blame us?“

“Yes. I blame you. And I judge you.“

In spite of it all, you had to admit the celestial princes were quite handsome and their appearance would normally be breathtaking, if you weren't meeting them under such circumstances.

In a resting position, their large wings almost appeared like regal capes. Complementary colours reigned in their respective palettes. Deep royal blues of Prince Moon's wings were speckled with tiny stars, while the rich golden hues of Prince Sun's had swirls of blue interwoven in their texture. In a way, the twins were perfectly symmetrical when it came to the design of their wings. Their attire was similar to that of jesters, but far more elaborate and indicative of their status. Silk and velvet were present, bejeweled buttons, finely tailored doublets.

Both of them were eager, lovestruck and needy. To a degree you almost felt like a lamp attracting a pair of silly mothlings. Which was fitting, considering they too had wings and all.

As Moon was still caressing you along your inner forearm, Sun could not resist nuzzling your hair. You could have sworn that you heard both of them purr. A part of you wondered how on earth did such a scene appear on the cameras, were you simply just floating around and talking to yourself? You internally apologized in advance to any poor security worker that would have to go through the recordings later.

Sun's voice brought you back from your silly reveries, his cheek resting on your head.

“As soft as silk.“

You had been somewhat aware that a pair of Fae had been hunting you for the past several weeks, but it was impossible to decipher their identity. Their glamour and shielding spells had been extremely powerful, their cunning unparalleled and their tricks endless. In many ways, they had been testing you, the purity of your heart and the strength of your soul. They would come to you, disguised either as lost little animals in need of help, or as injured humans in need of assistance. You would always help, no questions asked and always ignoring the warning tingle of enemy magic. Your mind had completely warped to the logic of the normal world and you no longer asked yourself the questions a witch would.

You did not suspect the odd new coworkers that had appeared out of nowhere either, nor did you seem to wonder where they had come from. You had simply accepted that you probably just never noticed them before and that they had always been there. A few pleasantries here, a few kind words there, and that had been all. Of course, all up till tonight when the name trick finally came to rip the veil of denial off.

You huffed, unphased by Sun's compliments regarding your hair.

“Were you the one that has been making those silly fairy-locks I kept waking up with? Those are impossible to untangle!“

“Technically you are not supposed to do that, elsewise you bring misfortune upon yourself. The poor keyboard on your laptop suffered a premature death because of that.“

“I really liked that laptop.“

“I know.“

“It was brand new.“

“May it rest in peace.“

You looked over at the little digital clock on a nearby desk. The witching hour was almost over and the power of the Fae would slightly weaken after four in the morning. If you somehow escaped them, maybe you could distract them enough till the desired hour strikes. Your magical weapons may at least have a fair chance afterwards.

You gasped as Moon leaned closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek, sliding down to your neck, distracting you with pleasurable sensations and making your spine tingle.

“What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, wishing star?“

“Nothing much, honestly.“

Both of them spread their giant wings, showing all of their glory, then draped them over you in what one may interpret as a soothing and protective gesture, but given the circumstances, it was also a demonstration of entrapment.

Impish jesters, forever grinning, forever teasing.

It was one thing to be bound and made to serve an ordinary fairy. It was a completely different thing to be serving the royal twins of the Celestial Court. They were dangerous, powerful, their stature surpassed even the tallest of humans, their urges were never satisfied and their desires never at rest. Not to mention that they were the most competent tricksters of the Fae kingdom.

Fairies were incapable of lying. Therefore, they had to resort to literal meanings and multiple interpretations, distortions, tricks. You could imply one thing that was perfectly accepted and understood in human society, but they would purposefully give it an obscure meaning that was still not a falsehood.

Your predicament was ironic in many ways. Embarassing even. To be precise, you came from a long line of magical practitioners that had been known over the centuries as the Cunning Folk. Various terms existed for such people, but in the modern times the closest definition would be light witches. It was an adequate name that differentiated them from warlocks or dark witches.

You, dear Y/N, had done your best in life to keep the madness of magic at bay. Yes, you knew how to ward yourself from curious spirits, you always had your trusted rolled up newspaper at the ready to hit the local boogeyman on the head when he was living rent-free under your bed, and pretty much every imp on the block knew to avoid you if they wanted to keep all their limbs attached.

Fae Folk, however, were a different story. Long ago, it had been a custom for the Fae to connect to members of the Cunning Folk in order to form a soul bond. A familiar and their witch, in a way. It had always been a connection stronger than any spell and a love more intense than any passionate marriage.

All of that had changed when the realm of the Fae had been afflicted by a darkness far more potent than any light spell could heal. The Hopes and Dreams of children had become scarce and all that was once joyful and innocent had become corrupted and ruined. The Fae King had become cruel and wicked, his once cheerful and loving demeanour had transformed into that of a deranged villain. He did have an odd shift of behaviour on certain birthdays, though, and this would usually take everyone aback for a solid twenty-four hours.

In light of all that, the Cunning Folk had gone into hiding and refused any new bonds with the Fae. This was unacceptable, since the Fae had depended immensely on the sweet nectar that human souls could provide, especially when that soul happened to be a magical one. Consequently, over the centuries the Fae had to resort to various tricks, from luring humans into their fairy circles, kidnapping them and taking them to their kingdom, tricking them with various word games and always having them fall in traps when they least expected it. Certain Fae were less malevolent and were simply in dire need and want of being parents to a child, so they would take human babies to raise them as their own, leaving changelings in their place.

And despite all your efforts, you still managed to become a captive. Go figure.

Prince Sun, ruler of the waking dreams, bringer of hope, and Prince Moon, protector of sleeping children and vanquisher of nightmares. All of those titles did sound pretty cute, but both of them were still impish fiends that loved to play pranks on adults. Oh, well, your time was running out, so you had to think of something fast. Or at least try to reach the little dagger with Runes that you had all nicely hidden and tucked away in a secret pocket of your trousers. You never knew when you would need to stab something supernatural. Or open an envelope.

You concocted a little plan and hoped for the best.

Trickery was not limited to the Fae and you lowkey felt proud of your cunning ways as you pulled Moon into a deep kiss, much to his initial shock. He began to eagerly reciprocate, the sweet haze of lust conspiring against him, your softness and loveliness engulfing his mind. Desire was a natural solvent to rational thought and you had no problems with using that against him. Sun, on the other hand, was both shocked, and slightly jealous, but he did know that something was off.

His suspicions were only confirmed when, in the span of several seconds, you pulled out a silver dagger with enough Runic carvings to obliterate a whole magical army, casually stabbed Moon's heart as if the very gesture was the most normal thing in the world, used Sun's surprise to wriggle out of his grasp and you ran away down the corridors like a feral kitten. Well, at least you were productive.

As you ran, your phone began to ring, conveniently giving up your location in the process, but oh well. It was Vanny, so of course you had to pick up.

“Y/N, where is that briefing paper that you were supposed to email me literally yesterday?“

“I'm in a bit of a situation, Vanessa.“

“What is it now?“

“Well, apparently I am getting married.“

“Congratulations, I still want that briefing.“

“I will call you back, alright?“

Meanwhile, Prince Moon was having a bit of an existential crisis. He stood there, shocked, dagger protruding from his heart.

Oh, yes, it hurt. It burned, stinged, all of the unpleasant things that one may imagine. However, it was nothing compared to how it could have been. The newly forged bond made him immune to most of your deadly spells and Runes, so at worst he would feel temporary pain and then it would cease.

In a way, his desire and respect for you only increased. A Fae always respected good examples of trickery.

Sun could not stop himself from wheezing, very much entertained with the situation.

“You really walked into that one, Moon.“

“Shut up.“

He would still make you pay for that little insult, nonetheless. The corridors had morphed into the same scenery over and over, the windows were suddenly sealed shut, the nearby doors leading to a dead end or into a void of eternal nothingness. You could no longer trust your senses, for mad whispers kept disrupting reality. Only a few more minutes, you hoped for only a few more minutes till the witching hour ends.

You were honestly an idiot for trusting your own luck.

Moon's voice echoed throughout the corridors, ominous and demonic. A bit spicy, as well.

“You should have saved that fire for the wedding night, wishing star.“

“Goodness gracious.“

It became rather obvious that Vanessa would not be getting that briefing paper anytime soon, nor would our good old William Afton be getting his early morning coffee next week, either. Or any week, for that matter. It was a tragedy beyond description, may he rest in pieces.

You had to stop to catch your breath, panting, perfectly aware of the fact that you were mostly screwed. Well, a part of your mind tried to add some rational remarks and told you that living with the Fae couldn't be that bad and at least you would hopefully be getting some really cute royal garments or something. When in doubt, at least material things never disappointed you.

Ghostly hands rose from the ground, grasping at your ankles, your calves, your thighs. You fell forwards unceremoniously and you would have experienced quite a hit to the ground had the hands not grasped you, shielding you from the hard floor.

“What a perfect way to spend my night, being manhandled seventy percent of the time.“

Wrestling them was useless, but at least there was more dignity in that than just doing nothing and thinking about the meaning of life till your captors arrived.

Prince Sun appeared first, somewhat sympathetic, but also visibly tired from all the shenanigans. He let you have your little moment of heroism, though.

“Take your time, darling one.“

“Oh, sod off.“

Prince Moon arrived soon after, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of crimson, the dagger still embedded in his chest. He pulled the blade out, his gaze following the path of the rivulets of blood, almost enchanted by the pattern they were making as they glided along the expertly made Runic symbols.

“Love the craftsmanship on this one. It would have been a poetic death. Stricken by a wishing star, tearing my heart asunder, red pearls the only gifts I have to offer.“

Sun went over to you, partially teasing, partially serious.

“Someone is a bit violent. Are you alright, darling one? Do you wish to talk about some unresolved issues?“

“You two are literally stealing me away.“

“It's not that bad. We shall be loving and caring consorts to you. After all, our bond is basically an engagement.“

“This is the shoddiest proposal ever. How is this even supposed to work, each of you gets their own day of the week?“

“We'll share equally.“

“Excuse me, I am not a meal.“

“Really? You do seem rather delicious.“

“This isn't fair. Do you have any idea how homesick humans can get in the realm of the Fae?“

“We have many spells designed to bedazzle the mind and encourage you to forget the mortal world. And everyone is nice in their own way once you get to know them.“

“You two had no other member of the Cunning Folk to bother and you just had to stumble upon me?“

The dark spell was lifted and you found yourself free. Well, not for long, since the twins were at your side once more. Sun kissed your hand like a true gentleman, his wings making the faintest flutter of joy.

“We searched for a heart of gold and dreams of hope.“

“And you decided to look in a law firm?“

“Bright light contrasts best against a shadowy background.“

“Can I see the terms and conditions of my service?“

“Oh? Good idea! You can read all of that on our way to the palace! It will be so much fun to explain it to you. Of course, the letters are inverted, so you will need a mirror just to read it.“

He conjured a seemingly reasonable rolled-up piece of paper, before letting it unfold. It reached the ground in a comical fashion and kept on going till the end of the corridor.

“Sun, that list is longer than the border of Ancient Rome.“

“Indeed! I had it shortened to make it easier for you.“

“Dear god.“

“I also must say that I wrote it myself. I do my fair share of corporate business and contracts with humans are my specialty, but I do prefer to engage in theater. I may have given a certain playwright a few tips on writing his special little Midsummer work.“

“Old Will? For real?“

“Wonderful chap to have a pint with at the pub. I am certain he would have had an aneurysm had he lived to see what his reputation had become nowadays. A cheerful knave being the main topic for school and homework? Scandalous. He was a most charming actor and a talented wizard of words. Had many a verbal battle with him, and I never managed to snag his soul. I fully respect him for that.“

“Good to know. Regardless, I still wish to talk to your brother about this whole affair. It is my right, considering the fact that I am not a normal human and I do have certain perks. I am certain that King Eclipse will have more respect for old customs than you two.“

Sun and Moon gave each other a look, before giggling at you, as if charmed by how silly your request was.

“King Eclipse? Darling one, do beware.“

“The knave stole the moonlight fair.“

“Neither fools nor traitors breathe for long in his lair.“

“Be our guest, challenge him, if you dare.“

You raised an eyebrow at their improvised little poetic endeavour, tilting your head, curious.

“Did you two just come up with that?“

“Well, we did think of incorporating a iambic pentameter somewhere in there, but we simply decided to free verse it.“

Needless to say that the whole charade continued even after they had conjured a portal to their world, taking you with them. You were playing a dangerous game, but realistically you had nothing to lose. Well, except your dignity and maybe your life, but nothing lasts forever anyway, so might as well.

Your case was one type of extreme. On the other end of the city, two members of the Fae species were in the process of “adopting“ a few bundles of joy. The bear Fae and the wolf Fae were aware that two children were very unhappy in their orphanage and oftentimes they would hear the little girl, Cassie, vocalize her wish to be taken away by magical creatures. The boy, Gregory, had nothing against any of that, as long as there was proper acommodation involved. He hated the hard old bed he had in the orphanage and the food was positively awful.

Of course, there had to be an equivalent exchange, so the two Fae had to bring some friends along. One of them was not too thrilled.

“Why are we doing this? I don't want to stay in the human world.“

“You only need to stay till the next full Moon, Bonnie, and then you will be free of the obligation. Monty will keep you company.“

“Monty is insane.“

“Don't be rude.“

“He pushed me off the stairs, Roxy.“

“Happens.“

Montgomery was far too busy exploring the wonders of a music player to really care where he was, honestly. A few broken orphanage windows and one angry half-blind nun later, the wolf Fae and the bear Fae had become proud new adoptive parents. Bonnie and Monty would have to serve as changeling replacements for a bit, but that is what happens when you lose fairy chess. You owe favours.

By the time Roxy and Freddy had returned home, Gregory had partially woken up, while Cassie was all snuggled in the soft pillows of her new bed. They boy looked around his new house, nonchalant and trying to read what was happening from the clues given.

“Have I been kidnapped?“

“Some may call it that.“

“By fairies? Like, a changeling type of situation?“

“Yes, but I assure you we are using all of the safety protocols that are necessary.“

“Well, I'll be damned.“

“We do wish to make the best effort and become your new family, Gregory. For you and Cassie.“

“Is that food over there? Cupcakes?“

“Oh, indeed, with buttercream and cherries.“

Gregory observed the treats for a good few moments, thought a bit, weighed all his options and of course made the best possible decision for himself in that type of situation. Fairy food was usually a forbidden thing, but he was already stolen anyway.

“I am a simple lad, I see free food and I cannot complain.“

AO3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ship //// Part 4

Part 1 • 2 • 3

Vera immediately becomes critical when the Captain and Lieutenant keep making their way to the meeting room that has no cameras, no recorders, and nothing to summon Vera with

“Uh, Vera why did you double lock the door like that?”

“No reason. Just checking that they work.”

“That’s not ‘no reason.’”

“Sorry, I messed up with my sayings again.”

“It’s fine, I mess it up all the time too.”

Vera was actually remote-controlling your communicator to silently alert Jule of this behavior

Jule acts immediately putting an EMP-immune drone smaller than a land-fly into the room

“--Captain I say we leave. Go to the enemy planet and try to find our secret base there. You’re right about this ship being unreliable.”

“But I wonder how can we convince the technician to come with?”

“Ugh! Who needs him?! And that (L/n) character too. I say we leave them to self-destruct with this virus-ridden ship.”

“We need the technician. He’s the only one with interplanetary know-how on top of understanding the inner workings of the escape pods we’d have to travel in.”

“Then let’s just knock him upside the head and leave that thing behind.”

“Lieutenant I admire your determination but I’m leaving no one behind to stay with this thing.”

The two continue to talk about how they plan on making a fire at the furthest part of the ship 

Something that could easily be fixed if the technician was near but they planned it so it’s on the other side of the ship 

And since he’s a priority person, they’d be evacuating him 

And if not him then you of course to lure him out 

“Hey Ver I think we should have you take a crack at your new bod.”

“Awesome! I’ll start booting it up now!”

Jule purposely doesn’t inform Vera of the whole conversation and plan

By now he knows just how intense Vera’s feelings are about those he cares about

Except he knows that Vera’s less concerned about restraint than he

So he’ll commence his own plan

Immediately running to you in one of the hobby rooms when Vera stops responding 

Knowing they planned to cut Vera to start the fire

When the alarm blares and Vera turns back on 

The Captain and Lieutenant are right there to tell them to prep the launch pods

“But Jule is more than capable of—”

“IT’S OUR CALL Veras!  Remember your programming!”

“....Yes Captain.”

He preps the pods for the location of an enemy-ruled planet 

Doing all the necessary protocols to filter everyone out safely 

Of course, Vera neglects to really inform you like the others

He knows that it’s best to have you in your own pod away from the stressed and hostile people cramming in

Which is why they’re not prepared when the lieutenant comes in harshly knocking whatever you were doing out of your hand to grab your wrists tightly

“OW! What are you—”

“STOP STRUGGLING! I’m saving your pathetic life.”

She does explain after knocking you around a bit before shoving you towards the captain’s pod

By the time Jule finds you they’ve tied you inside while beckoning the technician in

“I know you’ll think wrong of us for this but these people need you.”

“So IT’s OKAY TO ATTACK SOMEONE INNOCENT?!”

“Please Jule get in the pod. We can talk about ethics more when I’m not inclined to knock you out.”

Jule will step forward before stopping

The Captain goes to yell at him when the alarms stop

So does the smoke that had been permeating through the vents

“The issue of the fire has been neutralized.  The issue about an evil miscreant and their oh-so-powerful captain is underway.”

“V-ver?”

The voice of the ship was coming out of a beautifully crafted android

Glowing blue eyes and black hair flowing along their lean but strong shoulders

The body type is hard to place but from what you can tell it’s male and their stature is lean giving an elegant look to him in general

Their stance has the lieutenant attempting to punch them 

They dodge like they are dancing, grabbing her hand and twisting

“AAAAGH!”

Ver doesn’t let her mourn her wound because they’ve jump-kicked her into the back wall of the pod

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.”

The Captain’s stunned shock allows you to stumble out and into Jule’s arms

The Captain tries to reach for you only to be met with a stabbing pain in his eyes

Jule shuts your eyes and buries you into his chest, blocking your view

The Captain screams like his lieutenant but it’s cut off by the pod doors closing and then ejecting themselves from the ship

Ver immediately turns to join the hug, Jule’s keeps you in

Only to shrink back when Jule’s glares at their bloodied fingers

They wipe it away before joining the hug

“I’m so happy it’s you guys I’m stuck with.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Me three!”

“...”

“..Vera…I don’t know if you know this but it’s really improper to touch there without consent.”

“Yeah Ver get your hands out our pants.”

“But I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

“VER!!”

“Fine, maybe later?”

As much as Jule doesn’t want to encourage that behavior

He has to leave you alone for a while to make sure his plan plays out perfectly 

His message to the enemy sky-guard under an alias he made years ago as a baby-hacker

‘At 43:94 enemy escape pods will be arriving in your airspace. Ur welx’

Watching the enemy broadcast reports about enemy spaceships it apprehended and the officials that were facing a public torture session

When he returns he’s insistent you both open a bottle of champagne

“I really don’t think now is the time, Jule.”

“Oh but it is babe! I think we should party now that we’ve gotten rid of those neets.”

“Wait got rid of–?”

“(Y/n)! I’ve never seen you drink that before! Will you please?!! I’d also like to hold a microphone nearby while you do.”

Now you three will have free reign of the ship learning to live your life in the worlds beyond

Vera knows it doesn’t get any better than this 

They’ve also decided that they’d do anything to keep it this way 

More?

[malehypnofantasy]

Read Part 2 here

Ben Richards is the ultimate all-American douchebags. He's blonde, he's muscular, and he's rich, and he knows he's a hot shit so that laid out the foundation for his ego.

He's also well-connected, with his family embedded deep within the political and economic leadership of not only in the United States, but also globally. The sheer level of power the young brat holds compounded with his attractive looks made him feared, respected and the most important of all, adored.

People wanted to be on his good side and everyone tried to get close to him. But only the reserved few that can get close to him and enjoyed all the perks of being his good friends. The others won't be seen or noticed by Ben and he wouldn't even hesitate to set the record straight or put people back to their places id he wished to do so, and that involved regular people like Casey that he viewed just as insignificant miscreant. Yet, that didn't phase Casey anymore, not when he got his magical power by his side, as Ben would be nothing but his mere puppet to play with.

Casey's family member always preached the need for a sorcerer to have not only strong mentality, but also strong physique as magic tend to consume a lot of energy and can push a magician to its physical limit. Having stronger physique means higher tolerance of pain and limit to exert one's magic, and for Casey, Ben is the answer to it. Casey is just simply too lazy to work out to build his body and endurance, and with his family never worked with magic in related to physically transform oneself, he needed to resort something more involving mental. The plan that Casey have in mind is to basically hijack Ben's body and use that jock's body as a proxy. From the memory of his great grandfather, such feat is possible as certain magician pulled it off in the past to create this front for their business enterprise with mere mortal as their original form seemingly unable to wield charisma or charm that they are lacking while human have this tendency to fall and adore someone that exude such quality

Ben's latest update involved a shirtless selfie he took in the gym. That's almost an hour ago, and per latest intel, Ben supposedly went to Walmart after his gym session. When Casey and Ethan finally arrived in Walmart's parking lot, they spotted Ben's electric blue BMW still parked nicely with no one inside, so they know they just need to wait for the jock to walk out from the store.

After around 15 minutes of waiting, Ben finally walked out with several groceries bag in both hands. Watching from safe distance inside their own car, Casey eyed Ben like the prey he is while Ethan just stared at Ben with no regards to the safety of his supposed frat bros as he is already gripped tightly under Casey's control. Casey then started to make his move as Ben finished with putting down his groceries inside his car. He walked out from the car and then called the jock while running. As Ben turned around then made eye contact, Casey utilized the opportunity to froze the muscular jock under his control. His 20/20 vision proven to be his shortcomings as he clearly entranced with Casey's eyes he managed to see. With zero control over his body, he stripped himself off and then forced to turn around and faced the car by Casey.

Ethan eventually followed Casey to walk out from the car. From the distant, he witnessed Casey pressed his body close to Ben's body and a radiant glow emanated from the two. The glow turned blinding as Ethan got closer but after several seconds, the light vanished and while Ben's body flopped to the car seat, Casey's body dropped to the road. Ethan dashed his way to see what is happening and trying to find way to help Casey, but once he got closer to the car, Ben suddenly roared as he flexed his muscle

"Hey there Ethan, how do you like me now?" Ethan's eyes went wide, is that his Master's voice coming out of Ben Richard's mouth?? "--sorry, that doesn't sound right. How do you like me now?" Said Ben now with his usual tone and air of confidence that accompanied his sultry, deep voice

"Master, what happened?"

"Well, what about you put my body to the backseat and I'll explain to you what's up,"

So with ease, Ethan lifted Casey's original 130 lbs body and shoved it to the backseat and trampled Ben's gym bag as he then seated himself in the front passenger seat

"Okay, so let me explain---"

[falbrightsplace]

A Riddler Drabble that'll become something more in the future

Gotham in autumn was a grim reminder of the proliferation of costumed crime. Halloween was less a celebration of whimsy in some faded lithograph addressed to the ways of yore and more a ghoulish pyre drawing its worst in to flail in some sordid, horrid dance. It was a time one Edward Nygma often looked longingly at rail passes to Metropolis, where he could safely lie under the auspices of its guardian angel until Julian or Joker or Crane might calm themselves following a war of attrition over what may as well be a bucket of sweets and a broken clavicle. Or an unhinged jaw. Compound fracture? Often. Nasty little things that were meant as deterrents to the miscreants of this city…

The thoughts were escaping him once more. Bleeding into the dense atmosphere, like a soup, even several stories off the ground. What the investigator, yes, investigator thought was that particular line; the very one above? Applied when he hadn’t yet powdered his nose at the vanity of “decent” society. Decent society, a demanding little beast, oft frowned at the thought of a reputable business owner ducking out for a full season when he had already taken on a full docket of case files (private and public matters alike). After all, a craven member of Arkham’s menagerie for the criminally insane would be fully expected to run with his tail between his legs like the rodent that the average Gothamite took him for. And while that suited Eddie fair in days of yore (after all, a rat could run a maze, the average work-a-day Joe? The odds started dwindling rather quickly), he now had to stay on this particularly twisted iteration of the Titanic. Ever sinking into the crumbling New Jersey shoreline.

Why, it even had its very own iceberg. – A fact that served to curl his lip authentically. Authentically as opposed to the perfunctory, nigh on permanent smirk he wore to ward off anyone from thinking he much cared for what was being said beyond passing fancy or amusement. And yet wasn’t that what all this dressing was? The roving road to this very moment with nary a mote of intent established.

Passing fancy. Something to wile away the time.

Which is what The Riddler needed. Posting his cane at the base of the searchlight, the well dressed (former) saboteur and public nuisance flipped through a pocketbook in one hand and idly let his finger pass over the arrangement of a game of Solitaire. Occasionally he would mutter under his breath. It would be any number of things: a riddle, case notes, some errant detail about the exact positioning of coffee upon one Jim Gordon’s desk suggesting that files were being moved throughout the department at a breakneck speed. Consequential and inconsequential all at once. It was a maelstrom of information that quietly roiled beneath a bowler and shock of ginger hair, only disturbed by the occasional chuckle or sigh.

It was only when he heard that familiar, near silent, arrival that his gaze broke and the world seemed to move forward. This was a distinct noise you only became accustomed to in one of two privileged positions: ally or prey. Eddie Nygma’s lips parted, a slight gap in his teeth greeting a grim old friend with some mustered fanfare. Snatching his marshal’s baton, glistening in the light of The Signal, that lanky form sprung to polished heels.

“Rough night?” He leered, weight shifting as he posted himself upon that brass question mark, giving it a harsh rap upon the ground. “Or do you always keep your allies waiting when this,” with a click of his tongue, he ran a gloved finger over the frame of that overblown nightlight, “Lovely behemoth roars to life, calling to you from whatever murky depths you descend into during the day, hm? I hear the banking district is quite the slice of paradi-”

“I don’t make a habit of playing your games, Edward.” The words carried heft, as if ready to drop upon the recipient’s skull like a hammer.

“The record speaks to an entirely different story, Detective.” With a flourish, Eddie began to circle the Batman. Almost as if entering into the first steps of a waltz they both knew all too well. “But why dwell on the old when we can focus on the new? So here’s a real brain teaser for you: Why, oh why, would Edward Nygma, P.I. be given the rites to pass unto these hallowed grounds and flip that switch?”

The air stagnated, acrid as those piercing white eyes of the cowl narrowed.

“Surely even a sour soul such as yourself would want to get to the bottom of this particularly thorny thicket.” With a flash of something thinly resembling a smile, the career flim flam man inspected his fingers. Always something to do. Always something to distract or misdirect. A keenly honed ploy so deeply ingrained at this point that not even Nygma was aware to the fact that he often benefited from employing that smokescreen upon his own beleaguered mind.

“The sudden outbreak of copycat crimes. Starting in the old boroughs and working into the newly renovated portions of the banking district. Chief among them empty facsimiles of Ivy’s. The victims have been strung in a manner by which she would hold her prey until they had fully heard the breadth of their crimes.” There was a pause, with only the slightest shift in the vigilante’s jaw. “Toxicology reports don’t match any known patterns. And the targets, while obvious, wouldn’t serve as anything more than distractions. We both know she’s efficient.”

“Just like it’s a known fact that you’ve been trying to subdue that habit of yours. Going so far as to go on the record that it’s ‘all in the past’. You can’t give it up.” The Batman may have refused to kill but with a word he had shoved another dagger between Nygma’s ribs and rattled it about. That was part of the dance, too.

“What can I say, Bats?” A sickly guffaw managed to dribble past his lips alongside some of the wind knocked from him. “You inspire me. Bring out my best.” Shifting that lithe bit of weight, the more bombastic detective attempted nonchalance as the remedy to regain his footing. “Just...like I’ve always done for you.” Brow creasing, a delighted chuckle disappeared into the misty air as he jabbed a finger in the Dark Knight’s direction. “But really, if you want to play games the key to any answer in a riddle is something succinct. Right now?” Hands wheeling, Edward crept closer. “Right now, it comes off like you’re talking to a colleague in the department.” -Satisfying-. Gratifying.

[ddarker-dreams]

i wear glasses and i feel like chrollo would hide them so i’d have to come up to him and ask where they went — especially since i’m so forgetful too

(glasses wearing club obtains an extra debuff when it comes to yanderes imo. they can just decide you've seen enough and snatch them away)

-

It has often been said that the devil takes on many forms. Snakes, black goats, flies; the adversary apparently switches between multiple masks with ease.

Considering what you're forced to deal with now, you would've gladly preferred the animal alternatives.

"Stealing is a federal crime, you know. Liable for up to twenty-five years in prison. Good luck renting an apartment with that on your record."

Evil incarnate flips a page of his apocryphal text, because of course that's what he's reading at 11 a.m. "Sentencing on theft varies depending on the amount stolen."

You rush toward him, jutting a finger in accusation. "Aha! So you admit to stealing my glasses, you miscreant."

"I was just correcting your cute, confident assertion," he hums. He pats the spot on the couch next to him. You sit a few feet away, glaring daggers in his direction, arms crossed over your chest.

"I need those. Without them, it's likely I'll walk into a wall, enter a vegetative state, then my organs will start to fail, and I'll write do not resuscitate on my forearm in sharpie."

Chrollo smiles. "You're creative as ever, dear."

"It's amazing what the mind can come up with when I have next to nothing to do."

"There's always—"

You put a hand up to stop him prematurely, catching the lascivious glint in his eyes. "No, I'd prefer the vegetative state over whatever you're about to say next. Hand them over."

He feigns a dejected visage. "Would it be so awful to ask nicely?"

Without hesitation, you reply, "Yes."

His attention returns to his stupid dusty book with its stupid yellow pages that would probably turn to dust if you so much as sneezed on it.

"In that case, I'll be sure to accompany you until they're located, so that no walls endanger my beloved's wellbeing."

[factorialsotherfandoms]

oooohhhh for the 1-100 music writing game!! uhhh ermmm 12!! have fun :D

I refuse to listen to this one while writing I editted 18k to this but like a month maybe 2 ago. Which incidentally is why it is so much higher than the title track of the album which I HIGHLY recommend.

Short little thing...

Four in the morning, and Johnny drags himself out of bed. His pager had woken him, and he fumbled in the dim light for the damned thing.

All it had shown was a phone number, so he scribbled that down, and now here he is.

He does not bother taking off his pyjamas, only pulling thicker trousers and a jacket over them. Without a telephone of his own he has to drag himself to the end of the street, and from there...

Well, from there it changes.

Hopefully he'll have time to eat first.

He grabs his bag anyway, just in case.

At an utterly unreasonable four a.m., the street is empty of anyone Johnny might wish to talk to. His scars, size, and glower ward off any other miscreants, and he makes it to the phone booth unaccosted.

The Order knows he doesn't have /money/; he dials for a reverse charges calls and, after a moment, is put through.

"Your presence is required," a pre-recorded message tells him. "Your employer has been informed. A car will arrive in seventeen minutes, where you will receive full details. We thank you for your service."

The other end hangs up before Johnny can speak, not that he expected any differently.

Okay. Seventeen minutes. Quick shower, throw on work clothes, if he puts the toaster on before he gets in the shower - cold, he does not have time to heat water - he can probably eat before his ride gets here and the masks go on. He can only //hope// this is a short mission, because running on stale toast and a cold shower... Did he clean his pistol?

He hopes he cleaned his pistol.

No matter, he can check his weapons in the car. Shower and some toast first.

As he leaves the phone booth he runs a hand down his face, and kicks himself into a jog.

Probably sixteen minutes now.

It's going to have to be a very short, cold shower.

And it's not like he can afford jam anyway.

[headphonesleatherjacket]

“Juno, I can hear you thinking,” Sasha snapped. “Just say it already.”

Juno glanced to her, lips twisting. He hooked an arm through hers. Sasha’s face said, you and I both know this is about to be bullshit, in one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“I was just thinking, Wire, that for a city this nice, they sure don’t spend a lot on cameras. And it’s not like we’re ever coming back here.”

Juno looked pointedly to a nearby chain store. In the window, goods of all colours and sizes were displayed in military formation. In abundance. His fingers itched. Sasha punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow! Hey, what was that –?”

“Pavlovian response. It’s not like you’re ever coming back here. I need an impeccable criminal record, Steel, and it’s unfortunate enough that we’re associated as it is! You wouldn’t dare to – to –”

“Steal?” Juno suggested helpfully. “That is my name, Wire! Or did you mean, uh, liberate? Unburden? Introduce to the local miscreants? Or their pockets? Come on, man, did your mom pack you lunch today?”

“Don’t you have a job?” Sasha shot back.

“Don’t you have a sense of deep injustice about the system we live in?”

“Do you ever shut your mouth?”

“Hey, what’s a Pavlovian response?”

“Juno!” She punched him again.

“Ow, ow! What is this, 20 questions? Animal, vegetable, mineral, Wire?” Juno barrelled on before she could answer. “Aw, fuck, alright, you got me! I’m an animal.”

“At least you know that,” Sasha muttered darkly.

[black-arcana]

ARCH ENEMY Shares Music Video For 'Blood Dynasty' Title Track

Swedish/Canadian/American extreme metal titans ARCH ENEMY have released the video for the title track of their upcoming album, "Blood Dynasty". The LP is slated for release on March 28 via Century Media Records.

Following the surprise drop of their single "Dream Stealer" in July and the subsequent release of "Liars & Thieves" in October, "Blood Dynasty" marks the third single offering from the highly anticipated album. The track promises to deliver ARCH ENEMY's signature blend of powerful guitar riffs and dynamic vocals, showcasing the band's evolution while staying true to their roots.

Founder and guitarist Michael Amott shares: "The third single from our upcoming album has arrived, and it's the title track: 'Blood Dynasty'! This one shifts gears from the fast and furious energy of our two recent singles, diving deeper into melody and atmosphere. Immerse yourself in this dystopian soundscape!"

Amott previously stated about "Blood Dynasty": "This new album pushes the boundaries of what we've done before — it's everything you've come to expect from this band, and then some! We can't wait for you to hear it and feel the energy we've poured into every track. Welcome to the 'Blood Dynasty'!"

"Blood Dynasty" track listing:

01. Dream Stealer 02. Illuminate the Path 03. March Of the Miscreants 04. A Million Suns 05. Don't Look Down 06. Presage 07. Blood Dynasty 08. Paper Tiger 09. Vivre Libre 10. The Pendulum 11. Liars & Thieves

Next to the limited deluxe editions that feature two exclusive bonus tracks, fans can direct their attention to the limited liquid blood vinyl that is exclusively available in the band stores and limited to 666 copies.

"Dream Stealer" marked ARCH ENEMY's first new music since the release of the "Deceivers" album, which came out in August 2022.

"Dream Stealer" was mixed by Jens Bogren and mastered by Tony Lindgren at Fascination Street Studios. The video was directed and produced by Patric Ullaeus.

Four months ago, Amott told Pulp Magazine about "Dream Stealer" and ARCH ENEMY's plans for new music: "We've been staying busy for sure and are really focused on writing and recording new stuff in between the touring we're doing. I'm kind of always coming up with new musical and lyrical ideas though — I just keep going as it's what I enjoy doing anyway. Making music is a natural process, and it's pretty much a daily thing, so it can be hard to pinpoint exactly when everything was conceived. I do, however, actually remember that the initial seed for 'Dream Stealer' was written during a songwriting session I did with Daniel [Erlandsson, drums] in Los Angeles, California, two years ago, and then it's been rearranged and updated a lot till it reached its final state that you're now hearing."

Asked if it was a conscious decision to go back to the "classic ARCH ENEMY" direction and approach with "Dream Stealer", Amott said: "I've seen some seriously great feedback from the fans, and that's always very encouraging, of course. Personally, I don't know if I’d necessarily say 'Dream Stealer' is a throwback to the sound of the past, but I get what they mean — the song has the energy and speed that is very exciting and infectious. Maybe there is a hint of vintage ARCH ENEMY in there, and why not? I'm looking forward to playing it live on stage — I think it is going to be intense as hell."

ARCH ENEMY played its first concert with new guitarist Joey Concepcion on April 24 at Musinsa Garage in Seoul, South Korea. The show was part of ARCH ENEMY's 2024 Asian tour.

In December 2023, ARCH ENEMY announced that it had "amicably" parted ways with longtime guitarist Jeff Loomis.

Jeff, who was the main songwriter in his previous group, NEVERMORE, joined ARCH ENEMY in late 2014, but was not involved in the writing for the latter act's last two albums, 2017's "Will To Power" and the aforementioned "Deceivers".

ARCH ENEMY is:

Alissa White-Gluz - Vocals Michael Amott - Guitar Joey Concepcion - Guitar Sharlee D'Angelo - Bass Daniel Erlandsson - Drums

Photo credit: Katja Kuhl

[keldae]

Four word prompts - “You love me, right?”

“... So, you love me, right?” Devi abruptly asked as the party made their way down one of the countless alleys in the Lower City. She squeezed Gale's hand in hers as she looked up at the wizard.

Blinking at the suddenness of the question, Gale looked down at Devi with a concerned frown. “Of course I love you, my rose. Why would you ask that? Have I done something to make you question me?”

“No! Far from it.” Devi squeezed his hand again. “Would you love me even if I did something particularly dumb?”

Suspicion crept into Gale's mind; his eyes narrowed as he looked at Devi. Her wide, earnest eyes and the way she worried at her lower lip with her teeth almost hid the glint of mischief in her gaze. “What did you do?” he asked with a sigh.

Devi blinked innocently. “Me? Do something? What makes you think I did something?”

“Darling, you know that I adore you more than life itself – but I know you. And I know that you and Astarion snuck out of camp last night and were gone for over an hour.” Gale glanced ahead to the aforementioned vampire, casually strolling along with Shadowheart beside him. “Where you two are, shenanigans are sure to be had.” He looked back at Devi, just in time to see her lips twitch in a grin. “Ah, so you did get into something! What did you do?”

“... You'll find out soon enough,” Devi said. She grinned impishly. “Just know that it could have been way worse than what we actually did.”

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. “Am I going to have to bail you out of prison?” he asked with another heavy sigh.

“Nah. That would imply I got caught.” Devi seemed to have a spring to her step, the mark of a miscreant proud of whatever mischief she'd accomplished last night. “Just remember that you love me, and don't rat me out when the time comes.”

Shaking his head, Gale looked forward again. “Astarion, what in the Nine Hells did you two do last night?” he called to the pair ahead of himself and Devi.

“Ask us no questions,” the vampire answered, “and we'll tell you no lies.” He had a grin on his lips as he looked over his shoulder at the wizard. “Just don't set either of us on fire.”

“For the record, I have no idea what happened,” Shadowheart interjected. “I'm completely innocent in whatever wrongdoing these two idiots did.”

Gale suppressed the urge to groan out loud. “Whose fault was it?”

“Hers,” Astarion answered, without hesitation.

“And it was totally worth it,” Devi added, grinning evilly. “On that note, Elminster's left for Waterdeep, right? He's no longer in Baldur's Gate?”

Coming to a stop, Gale turned and set both hands on Devi's slim shoulders, fixing her with a stern look. “What. Did. You. Do?”

“You'll see, first in my heart.” Devi giggled, then stretched up to lightly kiss Gale. “Just know that I regret absolutely nothing.”

Gale suspiciously watched Devi for a moment before he sighed and resumed walking, holding her hand. “I love you, but right now, I'm not sure that I want to admit knowing you. Is this better or worse than you licking the spider meat in that Sharran temple?”

“You know what they say about comparing apples and oranges, my love…”

That made the wizard groan as they came out into the main thoroughfare, running by the Stormfront Tabernacle. “Am I going to wish that you had just chosen to lick another dead spider?”

“... Maybe.”

“That does not bode well,” Gale muttered. He paused as he took note of the crowd in front of the temple, and the excited whispers he could hear. “Huh. Curious–” He looked at Devi, and groaned again when he saw her slyly bumping Astarion’s fist with her own, as if in celebration of mischief well done. “Oh, I have a terrible feeling about this.”

“What on earth could that be for?” Astarion asked with a too-innocent blink. “Perhaps it's just indigestion.”

Gale narrowed his eyes at the vampire, then slipped into the crowd, making his way to the temple’s entrance, his companions following him. Dread settled into his chest with every step that he took to the temple – the anticipation of something awful inside the imposing building.

He finally gained the entrance, and stepped inside, only making it a couple of steps into the building before he was halted by another crowd of gawkers. But he didn't need to go any further – he could see the cause of the commotion, all centring around the statue of Mystra. The sight before him made him blink in shock before he groaned out loud.

He knew, better than almost anyone (save for perhaps Elminster) that Mystra wasn't supposed to sport a moustache and pointed goatee, or a monocle, or a unibrow, or crude devil's horns like what currently adorned her statue, bright red paint standing out starkly against the white marble.

With a heavy sigh, the wizard slowly turned to see his companions. Shadowheart's eyes were wide and she had a hand over her mouth – Gale wasn't sure if that was shock, or simply to hide a smile. Devi and Astarion were hiding their satisfied glee surprisingly well, although Gale could recognise the same look of mischief that they had sported after similar vandalising of the portrait of Vlaakith. And he knew Devi's handiwork. “Deviali…” he hissed under his breath, giving the love of his life a glare.

“Just know that it could have been far worse,” Devi whispered, an evil grin on her face. “I could have pissed on the statue too.”

“You only didn't because we almost got caught as it was,” Astarion pointed out in an undertone. 

Devi waved her hand dismissively. “Details.” She eyed the vandalised statue, then looked at Astarion with a grin. “Might be our best work yet,” she lowly said.

Astarion chuckled. “It looks so much more vivid in the daylight, too. The red contrasts so nicely with the white of the marble…”

Gale felt his eye twitch warningly. “You two are going to wind up in hell for this,” he groaned. "A very low level of the hells."

“And you'll be right there with us!” Astarion pointed out, his fangs glinting as he grinned. “Guilty by association, my dear wizard.”

“Don't remind me,” the wizard muttered. “I will not be surprised if she manifests in this plane right now, for the sole purpose of striking you two down!”

That did not seem to sober Devi up in the slightest – quite the opposite, in fact. Her eyes lit up with even more glee. “So I’ll have the opportunity to punch her in the throat like I was planning before she smites me!” she excitedly whispered. “Even better!”

“Shhh!” Gale glanced around, making sure nobody was paying undue attention to the four adventurers. Satisfied that the crowd’s attention was on Mystra’s statue, he looked back at Devi and Astarion. “What made either of you think that this was a good idea?” he whispered.

“She told you to kill yourself!” Devi hissed. Anger flashed in her eyes, momentarily overwhelming the glee. “You needed her help, and she was going to send you to your death for a chance at her bloody forgiveness! Why should I show her any hint of respect or admiration when she threw you away like that? Even if I didn’t love you more than life itself, nobody does that to someone I consider a friend!”

“You really shouldn’t be surprised, you know,” Astarion added. “We all know how Devi feels about throwing hands with deities on behalf of the people she cares about.” He looked at Shadowheart and winked. “Don’t worry, Shar is on the list too.”

“... Thank you?” Shadowheart responded. “I may join you two, once we find out what happened to my parents.”

Gale sighed and shook his head again – Astarion was right. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Devi would take it upon herself to disrespect Mystra so brazenly. It took more courage than he suspected he had to vandalise the idol of the Mother of the Weave, especially in the middle of the bloody tabernacle. And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel his own lingering anger towards Mystra for how she had so cruelly discarded him. His conversation with the goddess, only the day before, had been fraught with tension. Would Mystra withhold her offer of cleansing him of the orb if he brought her the Crown of Karsus now, thanks to Devi’s actions? He was inclined to agree with Shadowheart – the gods truly were a petty bunch.

But then again, he had his own moments of being petty, himself.

He turned back to the statue, eyeing it for a long moment, before he looked back at his companions. “... The unibrow is a nice touch that she would despise,” he muttered, and saw Devi and Astarion glance at each other with immense amounts of satisfaction. A little smirk played around his lips before he quickly suppressed it. “Come – let’s get out of here. Knowing our luck, Elminster will be on his way here, if he isn’t in the crowd already; and I would really prefer not having to lie to his face about you two.” “Gods, I can’t wait for tomorrow’s issue of the Gazette,” Devi laughed as the four slipped out of the tabernacle and back to the safety of the alleys – just in the nick of time, as Gale caught a glimpse of Elminster’s pointy hat in the crowd and heard his former mentor ranting furiously about the open disrespect to his goddess. “I’m saving a copy of that for the rest of my life…”

[ahru0226]

Hey sorry it's been a while, ive been through some shit and sadly have no time to draw any Tomarrymort, so I can only present you this snippet I wrote a long while ago, inspired by contrapasso wrote by hanamichi, it's a very good read, I recommend it from the bottom of my heart.

---------

With love. With hate. With something unfathomable between he and him. Something felt so sacred yet fragile, cracked and disappeared in cold dead night with simply touch of a feather. Yet in this dimly light room, with bed as its holy altar, no feather should be found in this sanctuary, only former dark lord with his chosen lamb.

His touch is anything but cruel, yet this act itself is the embodiment of cruelty. It was cruel, merciless, even blasphemous, when sinners came to god yearned for atonement, only to be met by the face of the devil in disguise, for him to be giving fictitious salvations to ravenous miscreants.

Harry shakes. His body is home to so many sins and grief, it shambles under mere touch of kindness, of care. It knows nothing but pain, since he was marked on that fateful night, with owner of this hand of incompatible benevolence. It knows briefly, of warm hugs and heartfelt touches, yet in its core, hard punches and dislocated fingers are a more familiar music.

"Please..." Harry begs. Begging for what? He does not know. For the kindness to shed its abhorrent skin? To cease to be what it is not, and reattain its wicked self? To be the Lord of Darkness, the habitat of the monster with so, so much rage, yet the little orphan so full of ambition with a vision of centuries? To be the entity respected by many, but feared, always feared by many more?

( 'But not me.' 'No, not you, Harry.' )

"Shh... You're doing so well, Harry." The man who should be the devil whispers, he who should be granting him the suffering, yet punished him with underserved touch of affection. It was frustrating, and confusing, it grated eerily in Harry's body, his mind, and his broken soul.

He doesn't know what to do, for he is underserved of this kindness, even if it came from the once incarnation of cruelty, even if this incarnation himself is the cause of all his suffering in his life, since the wicked green of the Unforgivable kissed his forehead in his crib.

"Just let go, Harry. Let me take care of you."

Eye filled with tears and mind with despair; with screams and faces and memories of many dead, still echoing like a broken record, singing a song buzzed with static only he can hear; with regrets and grief and an overwhelming sense of impending doom; yet, they shaken and shattered under every gentle touch, under every hot breath in his ear; and the constant pleasant warmth, like sitting before a fireplace in room full with golden stripes and red, embrace him as a lover would. Harry closed his tearful eyes.

He gave in.

[choppedcowboydinosaur]

A few weeks ago I delved into this rabbit hole of watching videos about the In Praise of Shadows hit piece on Wendigoon. Now mind you I don't watch either of these people's content but here's what I noticed during this whole drama.

For In Praise of Shadows I noticed the following (Note for the rest of this post I will refer to In praise of shadows as IPOS because it's easier for me to type.):

He wants ideological purity for horror movies. He doesn't think any conservatives should be allowed in horror. He thinks horror is inherently leftist. Which is odd since you could make the argument 80's slasher films have a conservative bent to them. Were all debauchery is punished by the slasher villain and only the final girl survives by being pure. Also, he accuses Late Night with the Devil of being a conservative movie because some of the transition cards use AI. That is odd to me since if you are going to call that movie conservative it should be by analyzing its themes rather than accusing it of AI. It just makes him seem like a very fragile person.

Most of his accusations are just guilt by association and lying about the youtubers he's complaining about. He accuses a bunch of people I've never heard of being gun crazed guntubers. None of these youtubers are guntubers. He also shits on Mutahara and Shoeonhead for no legitimate reason. I stopped watching Shoeonhead a while ago and distrust her somewhat but even I thought that accusation of her being conservative was completely disingenuous.

He accuses Internet Historian of being a neo-nazi because his birthday being 4/20 which is apparently Hitler's birthday. This stood out to me since you'd think for someone as terminally online as him, he would know what the 4/20 meme is.

He often associates guns with right wing despite there are leftists who use guns. Again, it's a very twitter mentality he has.

He bitches about Wendigoon being supposedly rich. I don't know how true this is, but I am starting to doubt IPOS claims of poverty given his pretentious manners. That and all he cares about is making video essays.

Also, he is whiny about not making enough youtube money and having to walk in a parking lot to a horror convention in North Carolina. To be fair he might have been saying this on behalf of handicap people, but they have handicap stalls for a reason. Also, if you aren't making enough youtube money there's this thing called getting a job. Especially, a part time one which allows for a more flexible schedule for him to make videos. Again, this man is very whiny.

He sounds like a pretentious version of Morakiu. He speaks in a monotone voice with no inflection in his voice. At least Morakiu was funny.

He has twitter brainrot. I say twitter brainrot because specifically he thinks all of Appalachia is white racists. Say what you will about this site many here would have called him out on that. For the record Appalachians are not inherently racist.

He associates aloha shirts with the boogalooo boys/alt-right. He said this while wearing an aloha shirt himself. Now that might be him being ironic but his stupidity cancels it out. Now while the boogaloo boys love their aloha shirts it is not explicitly a right-wing thing. I am a local from Hawaii and many of us here wear aloha shirts regularly so it's not some alt-right thing. I hate how people have now associated something innocent with that. Aloha shirts existed long before the alt-right ever came into existence.

He has this schizo moment where he thinks Wendigoon was trying to harass him by following him on twitter. When it turns out Wendigoon followed him because he liked his Slenderman video.

Pretty much the whole internet pushed his shit in after he spouted all that nonsense. He is a living case of a terminally online leftist with twitter brainrot. On one hand this man was clearly going through a mental breakdown, is delusional and should touch grass/seek therapy. On the other hand, he is a spiteful miscreant who likes to tarnish other people so my sympathy for him is very limited. It's good everyone rejected his ass because I feel like if he did this shit in 2017, he might have gotten away with it given how crazy everyone was driven with the TDS.

Now onto Wendigoon. Despite all this slander Wendigoon forgives IPOS. To me this shows he is legitimate in his kindness and beliefs. Since he was forgiving to someone who did not give him any courtesy at all. Which is doubly ironic since IPOS hates when people slander him, but he is fine with slandering other people. It's like I'm looking at two people diverging form a forked road. One chose the path to hurt people because he was hurt. The other chose the path to help people because he was hurt and doesn't want anyone to suffer. He's honestly far more merciful than I would have been in that situation. The thing was bizarre overall. Hopefully, after seeing IPOS madness people will calm down and not try to cancel each other. Unlikely but hopefully that reckoning will come and people go back to normal.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

my first foray into galex - thank you for the prompt from the f1 wild side discord!

a galex drabble written from the following prompts: morning, window and cat. with the tone: content

--------------------------

Alex wakes to a terrible screech. It sounds like someone’s dying, or losing a tooth, or both. Bleary eyed, he drags himself out of the bed, kicking off half the covers off as he goes. When he makes his way to the hallway, George stands there, shoulders hunched. His morose expression is a jarring contrast to his fluffy bathrobe.

“What happened?” 

“Gucci.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Alright. Gucci, as in resident menace, knocked the plates over.” 

Alex surveys the damage. It doesn’t look too bad, though whatever was on the plates - pancakes, from the looks of things, seem to be splashed halfway across the floor. 

His partner seems worse for wear.

“Typical ginger cat behaviour. Are you fine, though?” Alex asks. 

George nods, eyes all watery. Mouth pinched in a straight line, perfectly English of him, barely held together by his own tightly wound composure. He’s always been this way, since the days they’d been karting. Heart on his sleeve, feelings like rainclouds at the end of races.

Alex has seen him at his best and his worst, been there to hug him close or listen to him babble on about mechanical failures that were perfectly avoidable. Even let George drone for two hours with a PowerPoint on ways he could reform the GPDA for better driver solidarity until Alex had cut him off with a “you’re kind of sexy when you’re mansplaining to me. Even if I’m a man, and all”. Which had stopped George so short that he didn’t have anything to say for almost an entire minute.  

What happened after that was just natural, really. They'd clambred into each other's drivers rooms, held hands furtively at afterparties, kissed in the shadows of locations as exotic as Monaco and mundane as Milton Keynes. This was to none of the grid’s surprise, having seen their friendship blossom over the years, now into something else. Friends, however distant, who helped to guard their secret until they were ready.

“Today was supposed to be perfect.” George says, tugging Alex back to the present. It’s been two years since. Two good ones. 

George pinches his nose . “Christ, this is a disaster."

“We talked about this. No self-flagellating in the new year.”

“Right. Yeah. It’s just–”

Alex takes the other man’s hands. They’re large, and warm. Slender fingers roughened with callouses from gripping the wheel, capable hands for a capable man.

This close, George smells faintly like berries. Affection flutters in Alex’s stomach.

“We'll just start it over. It'll be fine, Georgie."

"I just wanted it to be perfect."

"Hey. This is my perfect. This is it, mate. You know that, right?”

George nods, softening under Alex’s touch. 

“Besides.” Alex continues. “It’s a little hard to take you seriously when your apron says do I look delicious. Which for the record, you do.”

George wipes his nose with the back of his hand, eyes darting down and up again. “You bought this, mind you.”

“I did.”

“And you love it. And me.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Alex pokes George in the side playfully, and George rolls his eyes. Attention diverted for the moment, smile finally back and starting to warm his eyes.

"Such an arsehole." George says, glancing at Gucci, who is walking calmy across the kitchen counter. Happily acting as if nothing has happened.

"I know. But he's our arsehole."

"Never say those words in that combination again."

"Our arsehole." Alex adds, emphatically.

To that, George only emits a long sigh.

And there is cleanup to come. Breakfast to be made again. But just for a moment, it’s the two of them. Spilled pancakes. Patience. tender love.

A miscreant tabby that happily suns itself under the window. 

Two of their hands perfectly intertwined. Room perfectly incandescent.

[gamerdog1]

Samurai Champloo Review

What the hell even is a 'champloo' anyways? Ever since one fateful Passover seder, where my older cousin told me about this series, I've wondered about it. Its certainly not English, and though a quick Google search could give me my answer, the mystery of it all kept this show on my radar for nearly a decade. Its not often that a show with a title as puzzling as this get popular, especially enough for my slacker cousin to recommend it to me. With a recommendation like that, though, I knew there was something special about it.

Samurai Champloo is a strange breed. Created in 2004 by Masaru Gotsubo, and animated by defunct studio Manglobe, the series follows a trio of miscreants on a journey to find a mysterious samurai. Along the way, they dodge the law, fight assassins, and discover how hard it is to be a minority in a changing world.

Champloo's biggest draw is it's style. The series features a modern-style Edo that keeps the historical dress and architecture, but adds a contemporary kick everywhere else. The opening alone sets the tone perfectly: sharply colored characters, juxtaposed onto paper-like backgrounds, moving to a hip-hop flow. Its stylish, like an old-school music video, and draws you in in seconds with its funky beat and striking visuals. Its the perfect opening, and things only get cooler from there.

The Edo of this anime features a mix of traditional Japanese and modern North American styles, presented in a way that sets it apart from the rest. Its a show where you might find a samurai sword fight set to record scratches, or characters wistfully embarking on a journey while hip-hop music plays in the background. Early episodes use these scratches in the soundtrack as editing cues, cross-cutting between actions at the sound to create a wholly unique experience. It can't be overstated how much the musical styles of this anime make the viewing experience shine.

On top of that, much of the content of the show's episodes takes pages from a more modern handbook. One episode has the main trio caught up in the world of graffiti, as two brothers compete to see who can 'tag' the most dangerous places. Another has them play against American traders in a overly-violent game of baseball. All the while, characters talk with modern slang, ditching formalities and keeping with the tone the soundtrack sets. All this combined creates a historical anime that feels surprisingly contemporary, despite the obvious.

Over the course of the show's 26 episodes, we follow a main trio of characters as they journey to find a mysterious samurai who smells of sunflowers. The trip is long, and each episode usually features the gang stopping somewhere and getting involved in a stranger's problems, usually learning some moral or getting a lead on their quest afterwards. Its not often for series as mature as these to be episodic, given how seriously they take their plots, but here, it works well.

Every episode feels like another step along their journey, whether it be an eating contest in a big city, or hunting down a pick-pocket who stole their wallets. The series also does an excellent job at making the journey feel long, often referring back to the places the characters have been so far to keep track of it. You could actually track the trio's journey with a real life map if you wanted, since all the places they visit are historical, and probably still exist. Maybe someone out there has even tried their journey in real life...?

An anime is only as interesting as its main characters, and this one certainly has an interesting cast. The series stars three characters, who together, always find a way to screw things up in the most hilarious ways. First, there's Fuu, a young woman who meets the other two characters when they burn her workplace down, and enlists them to help find the samurai who smells of sunflowers. The show pulls no punches with her, often having her be the butt of the joke just as much as her companions. She's loud, whiny, naïve, and often eats the most out of all of them. Yet, she's usually the one that stops fights, is the voice of reason in all this show's chaos, and shows kindness to everyone she meets, even someone who tried to kill her. Though the other characters might play her off as another nagging woman, Fuu's right more often than not, and is a valuable member of the team.

Next is Jin, a ronin with a cool attitude. He's the level-headed one of the trio, often keeping to himself instead of jumping into arguments like the others. His cold exterior hides some pretty deep traumas, which were exciting to learn more about as the story developed. Characters like him are often stereotyped as unfeeling swordsmen, yet beneath all the sullen glances and reclusive body language, he grows to care about his companions more than any sense of pride.

Lastly, there's Mugen, the wild vagrant. His reckless fighting style, love for battle, and unquenchable pride endeared him to me pretty quickly, making him an easy choice as favorite. Compared to Jin and Fuu, Mugen is an old-school tough guy, a shonen protagonist aged up a decade and thrown backwards a couple hundred years. Like Jin, he initially is quite guarded, but learns to express himself little by little, eventually revealing his tragic backstory. Though, to be fair, most of his self expression comes in the form of violence or threats, but I'm not here to judge him.

Together, these three form a simple comedy trio, and get into trouble at every turn on their journey as they learn to tolerate each other. From start to finish, the trio struggle to get along peacefully, but that's what makes their dynamic worth watching. Mugen and Jin's mutual hatred, balanced out by Fuu's persistence, is what keeps them going. Depending on what episode it is, they take turns being the 'straight man', keeping the dynamic fresh and free of stale tropes.

At the heart of this anime, though, is its theme of identity in a changing world. Throughout the series, the trio encounter various minority groups along their journey, and learn about their unique struggles. One episode has them protecting a secret Dutch immigrant, taking him on a tour of the city while they dodge immigration officers. When the man reveals that he fled his home country because of homophobia, it doesn't feel out of place or poorly handled. His queerness is just as much a part of his character arc as his foreign-ness, and though the show makes a few light-hearted jabs at his accent and obvious visual difference, it takes the rest of his identity rather seriously. This character, while only in the show for an episode, is just one of many minority characters in this series that is handled well, showing that a series doesn't have to be disrespectful to be historical.

Another major theme in this series is death, and the acceptance of it. Being an action series, its pretty obvious that a lot of characters die, but what's interesting is how other characters deal with those deaths. Many side characters who the trio befriend on their journey are dealing with loss in some way, whether it be a husband, sibling, child, or something else. We witness how their grief drives them, such as with Fuu, or various other characters in the series. In a world such as the one in this series, death is commonplace, but a healthy acceptance of it is unfortunately less so. Each encounter with death in the series opens up new discussions about it, and often had me pondering what these characters might do next, or how I would deal with their situations.

In the end, though, Samurai Champloo is a fascinating series that brings a unique blend of Eastern and Western styles to make a truly memorable viewing experience. It's hip-hop soundtrack pairs beautifully with flashy and quick-paced sword fighting, creating a simultaneous modern-historical vibe to it all. Its characters have an enjoyable dynamic that kept me coming back day after day for more, which inevitable led to disappointment upon discovering how short this series is. If we lived in a perfect world, this would have at least an extra season, but unfortunately, perfect this world ain't.

But hey, at least I can spend my Pink Halloween (read: Valentine's Day) knowing that Fuu is valid, Mugen is gender, and Jin defintely got pegged in that one episode.

[horsewizardart]

HI!!! what do you think of trixshy? I think theres potential for a really cute dynamic between the two :)

i think trixie would have to learn to be about ten times less obnoxious to make it work but i can imagine this. fluttershy has a track record for enjoying spending time with weird miscreants

[treason-and-plot]

“I refuse to eat while this miscreant is seated at our table,” says Michael, fists clenched at the side of his plate. Roy is beginning to think of him as a middle-aged toddler, albeit a toddler with quite an impressive vocabulary. Jane seems entirely unconcerned by his behaviour, happily channelling forkfuls of peaches into her mouth.

“You’re missing out, Dad,’ says Anya. “It’s delicious. You’ve really outdone yourself, Mum.”

“Yes, it’s great, thanks Jane,” says Roy, though it doesn’t compare to Sonia’s cobbler, with its melt-in-the -mouth dough and perfect cinnamon-to-brown sugar ratio. Michael sends him a poisonous stare.

“Anya, I know I can’t stop you moving into this man’s apartment, but I want you to stop and ask yourself if you are making the right decision," Michael says. ”Because clearly he is not to be trusted. Nor is he a person of strong moral character.”

“Why do you say that?” says Roy through a mouth filled with cobbler.

“Because you lied to me," says Michael, his eyebrows flaring. “You told me that you and Anya were getting married, which was an outright lie.”

“I was just yanking your chain because you started spouting all that armchair psychology bullshit,” says Roy. "Which was a total load of crap, by the way. I'm way too secure in my skin to feel diminished by the fact that my ex-wife prefers muff."

“Dad," says Anya. "Seriously, what on earth-"

"And for the record, it was Anya who pursued me, not the other way round," says Roy. "Not that I'm complaining. I'll be forever grateful. But you need to get your facts straight, Michael. And stop pigeonholing me as some narcissistic wanker who's only interested in a trophy-wife. I'm in love with your daughter. And to suggest I'm with her for any other reason is pretty damned disrespectful. Okay?"