#morphe fluidity

[yestrnight]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ POCKET SLIME ! 

FROM: kaveh, alhaitham / gn! slime! reader

SUBJECT: you used to be a docile, little thing. a blob of extraordinary cuteness that just follows them around wherever they go. but how in the world did the pet slime they took in turn to be some sort of cum-hungry demon?

( this shit reads like a doujinshi, so don’t even bother using braincells; feels like im committing some sort of crime against the cute widdle slimes of genshin; unhygienic slime usage; reader has a diçk AND a pússy, reader also has a humanoid form don't worry; best of both worlds; urethra play (kaveh); dubcon; nipple play (alhaitham), throat fucking (haitham); they’re ALL on their receiving end; ahégao; )

✧.*  KAVEH 

KAVEH who takes you in while you were plopping sadly around in the rain, sad little rumbles and bleps from your jelly body. he’s not so heartless that he’d kill some poor slime who doesn’t even have any interest in attacking him, only nudging its pudgy body against his shoes and looking pleadingly at him.

he likes to watch you eat the treats he brings home. it’s a stress reliever to see you munch on some sumeru roses he brought home, and he pats your blob figure fondly while you squeal in delight at his treats. you’re not a very picky eater, he finds out, but you’re more delighted whenever he feeds you something with elemental energy. once he learns of this, he brings home more and more elemental energy stuff, just to be on the receiving end of your cute lil snuggies.

KAVEH who lets you sit on his head whenever he’s working on his projects. while he sketches and measures, your cool jiggly body feels so comforting on his hair. sometimes he even falls asleep with you on him, and you slowly make your way to his cheek so you can protect him from the hard wood of his desk.

he genuinely brought you in because he thought you were cute, nothing more than that. he’s gotten fonder of you ever since the days pass by, and you thought of him the same. however…

KAVEH who wakes up to something warm and gooey sucking on him down there. as he squirms under the blankets, tiny little moans and whines escape his pretty little lips. the pink blush on his cheeks seems to brighten when he slowly opens his bleary eyes and sees his adorable slime sucking on the tip of his pretty cock. imagine the shock of seeing the pet he was so fond of doing nasty things to him!

“nnh–! [y-your name]! what are you– ahh ♡!” he tries his best to cover up and pull you away, but with no such luck. in fact, you suck even harder, the wet noises of his cum and your squishy body echoing throughout the room. you suck even harder, and the pleasure makes kaveh’s body jilt and shake every rhythm and pulse.

“angh… t- too much…!” he sobs and pushes you away, but his hands only sink into the slime. it’s only around this time he suddenly realizes the slow expansion of your blob body, slowly morphing into something familiar… something humanoid… something… cuter.

your wobbly smile looks so innocent even as you tongue the veins across his dick, and it sends blood to his head until he feels like he’ll pass out from a nosebleed. you gurgle something that sounds faintly like ‘master’ and ‘kaveh’... and gods does that make his dick hard.

“a s-slime turning into a human?” he gasps, sitting himself. “i must be going– ngH! c-crazyYY ♡ stop! s-stop!” using the dexterity and fluidity of a slime, your tongue compresses into something thinner. you ooze your way in into his urethra, the slimy thing bumping against the edges and leaves his toes curling and fingers gripping the sheets.

“ughk, mmh~!” he throws his head back, dick humping into your slimy mouth. “m-more ♡ k-keep going~! agh, ah, ah~!” your delighted gurgle sounds faint in his ringing ears, but he still manages to smile fondly. “g- good slime ♡ s-sucking on your master’s dick so h-ha-hARD! fuck!” he hisses when your tongue presses against his prostate. he pats your hair with one shaky hand and you nuzzle into it. “so ♡ cute ♡ you got even cuter ♡”

“‘m gonna blow! [your name]! ggh [your name]!” he whines and desperately grasps on the hair-like jelly. “s-slow down~♡! gh, nwah!” he wants to attribute your lack of understanding to your inability of comprehending human languages, but he swears he sees the shadow of a devilish smirk on your cute face before you griiiind your tongue right against his prostate.

as his climax hits him, KAVEH’s eyes roll and his back arches into the air as he shoots his seed into your mouth. the tears blur his vision, but he can see his white seed spurt into the jelly. satisfied with your meal, you finally pull out your tongue– getting some pretty screams from your master at the added simulation– and his body falls limp. you smile and giggle at him, kissing away the tears from his eyes, and slumping your cool body against him. 

“th– thanks, [your name],” he smiles at you, kissing you briefly before sleep takes him away again. “do that for me again, ‘kay?”

✧.*  AL-HAITHAM

HAITHAM who is skeptical of the slime his fool of a roommate brought home. he raised an eyebrow when kaveh came home wet with a pudgy slime in his hands. “you know that can dissolve you, right?” he points out, ever the smartass. 

kaveh snaps back. “of course i know, idiot. but look at them! don’t you feel bad for them?” he raises you high and you give a warbly greeting, but alhaitham is far from impressed. his dramatic roommate rolls his eyes at him and kaveh carefully tucks you away. “let’s go, [your name]! this callous idiot isn’t worth your time!”

HAITHAM who didn’t pay you much attention, only ever seeing you while you drape off kaveh’s head when he enters for breakfast. you were well-behaved for a slime, anyway, so he shouldn’t concern himself much with you. but his interest is piqued when one day he hears devilish noises from kaveh’s room, sounds of slurping and sucking while kaveh whines pathetically muffled behind the door. clearly, it’s not kaveh doing the sucking and slurping, but…

HAITHAM who sees you again the next day at breakfast, draping off kaveh’s head as usual. he greets kaveh with his usual coolness, but kaveh, for lack of a proper word, looks completely fucked out. his legs shake as he pulls his chair, and when their hands touch while reaching for the food, he pulls back with a lip-bitten yelp. all the while, you garble incomprehensibly on him.

yeah, no. his roommate is definitely fucking his pet slime. haitham’s not chatty, but he’s got a million words for how fucked up the entire situation is. once kaveh is out of the house, he corners poor little you and stares down into your vacant little slime eyes. he won’t admit that he actually cares for his… once friend, so getting rid of the thing that has tempted him into immoral acts will be the best next thing.

“mm- mmgh?!” haitham doesn’t know how he ended up like this, gagged and bound by your slimy tendrils. while he tries to break free, he stares in astonishment as the blob slowly expands. the torso starts first, before extending into limbs, until the head takes shape and a very, very pretty smile is smiling innocently into haitham’s face. 

“☆♡♡?” your gurgles continue to be incomprehensible, despite the humanoid form. slowly, your cool hand caresses his face, holding his chin while your tendrils lift him ever so slightly up the ground. you kiss him, like how a lover would, the slightest bit of tongue swiping over his lips, but then you pull away— and he catches the devilish smirk before you lean in again and start fucking his mouth.

he thrashes in your slimy hold, slipping away only for the slime to thicken and tighten their hold on him. he glares at you with look of indignation as he tries his best to keep his mouth shut, only for you to slip your tongue between his lips and curl around his tongue. he shakes as you bring him closer to you so you can properly fuck him in his throat. you curiously watch as he gags and splutters on the length of the tendril, his glare never ceasing even though he looks like a proper slut with that dark red blush on him.

replacing your pseudo tongue for another tendril, you pull away from his face and eye his thin shirt. your curious hands roam over the expanse of his chest, and you delight in the softness of his pecs. feeling a bit too eager to get your hands under his shirt, you dissolve the cloth away and quickly reach up to rub his two pretty nipples. you roll them around in your fingers, giving each one a tight squeeze before going back to massaging them. 

HAITHAM, behind the slime gagging him, yelps when you lean in and bite one. you run a tongue over his wide areolas, studying his expressions to make sure you’re pleasing your master’s best friend properly. his glare is more subdued, the wriggling has lessened, and there’s an… anticipation in his eyes as he stares down at you. you’re more than delighted at the progress. this means he likes you, right? you always felt a little sad when haitham would glare at you, but now you can feel getting closer to him! best friends, even, just like him and your master!

and like every best friend does, you should make him feel happy too! lowering one gloopy hand down to his pants, you waste no time melting away his pants and underwear and morphing your hand into something akin to a suction cup. little tentacles line the inside of the cup, and a muffled groan from haitham convinces you to finally ungag him. he gasps for breath, staring at you with wide eyes and a fucked out look. “what… what are you waiting for?” haitham grits his teeth, trying to hide the desperation he’s feeling when you’re so, so close to finally giving him the relief he wants. “put that on me. now.” a pause when you don’t do anything, and the last left of his dignity leave him as he gives you a pleading look and buck his hips up. “please.”

you know from experience that that one syllable is the go ahead, and with enthusiasm and vigor, you put the cup on him and start sucking. “mmm! ngh, ah, too much! ah!” you think his moans are pretty. huskier and deeper than your master’s soft and light whines, and that only makes you sucke even harder. the stimulation forces him to bend his back as he dangles in mid-air, forcing his fat cock deeper into your suction-hand. the dizziness of the upside down world makes the blood rush to his head, and he feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you tickle the throbbing vein running the downside of his cock.

“ah, sh-shit, you’re taking me all in ♡” sweat makes his skin glisten, highlighting even more his soft pecs and his abs. tendrils reach out from your back as they glide themselves around his waist and guide him back up. he’s positively shivering as you continue pounding his cock in and out of your hand, and his tongue is shivering when you pull him in for another kiss.

somewhere in the back of his mind, haitham swears he’ll make a research paper on you– on how intoxicating and aphrodisiacal you can be.

✧.* IT’S A THREESOME!

KAVEH bounces himself on your dick, your squishy body serving as his cushion as he lets his limp body get absolutely wrecked by a thick and veiny cock you fashioned from your ever-morphing body. his pretty dick slaps HAITHAM’s muscled torso as the younger one slaps his heavy balls against the pussy just underneath your balls. 

your slime encases the both of them flicking haitham’s nubs up and down and fucking kaveh’s urethra open, just the way they like it. it should be humiliating, the two roommates who could barely stand each other now open and so vulnerable to each other. but kaveh’s face is contorted in a lewd expression, eyes crossed and tongue hanging out of his mouth as he gets his ass destroyed, and haitham can’t find the energy to even insult him.

well, maybe a little bit. “you– ngh! – you really brought a beast into my home, huh?” he pants out, grabbing kaveh’s waist for stability as he thrusts his dick into you like a beast in rut. “you really couldn’t resist the chance to get yourself fucked silly, huh, my dear senior?”

kaveh whines when he feels haitham going even faster on you, and he tries to cover his face with his arm. “sh– shut up, okay?! i– a-ah ♡ i didn’t knooow! i thought they were a c-cute l-little thing ♡ but now they’re–” a sob escapes him as you abuse his prostate. “they’re just bullying me e-everydayyy ♡”

haitham locks eyes with you, innocent and vacant, not a single thought behind them. but it’s hard to see you as anything but innocent when you’re offering up both your cock and pussy to your two masters.

“you’re one crafty thing,” haitham bites out. but all you offer to him is a happy little noise when you think that you’ve made your two masters happy and fulfilled. just like how that man taught you to.

[scrubbinn]

Slime HRT Day 1: First Pages

I was told I should write down my experiences in this journal. I'm only really doing this because I was told I didn't have to share my writings with anyone except for emergencies, whatever that means. Today is the first day of my new life, and becoming something not human anymore.

I've seen a lot of social media about species HRT. I think it’s supposed to be “Human Removal Therapy”. There’s a lot of people online bashing it, and I'm sure someone is going to try and ban it eventually, but for right now it's pretty unrestricted. To be honest, I am fascinated by it. Becoming something inhuman seemed so, I don't know, cool I guess, but it felt distant, like it would never happen to me, or I'd be labeled a freak by my friends. It was only until my girlfriend brought it up in a passing conversation that I gained the courage to admit I was curious about it. She said I should go for it. The amount of joy I felt then and there was like a 20 ton weight had just exploded out of my chest, but in a good way! We spent the rest of the night talking about treatments and articles, I never felt so happy except then and there, to be seen like that.

My legs were shaking when I met with that doctor. I was told it was normal to be nervous, but it really felt like I was going to just have a breakdown the entire time we talked. There was a lot of psychological exams and way, WAY too much paperwork that basically said I was sure I would be happy and cool with going through with this process. The doctor was patient at least, though he was rude with how little he tried to hide the boredom of his job. Besides that, there was something about him that just made him feel like this was the last thing he wanted to do, the kind of man who’s a total pushover. We eventually got to the question I was dreading “what was I here for, what am I looking to be?” My voice just suddenly stop working right there. It's so funny how I saw an actual dragon on my way here and somehow my request seemed so much more ridiculous. That stupid doctor kept prying me to just tell him until my frustration surpassed my anxiety, and I was able to blurt out that I wanted to be a slime.

I don't know when or why, but I've always liked the idea of slimes. It's their fluidity I think. Being able to morph myself the way I want whenever I want. I mean, how can I trust I'll be happy with my body shape everyday when I can't even pick a favorite color. I spent so much time writing out my own ideas of how their biology worked, or creating a bunch of slime girls for stories I never finished writing. It took me a while to realize I wanted to be just like them, like how it took me a while to realize I wanted to be a girl too.

I thought I'd get laughed out of his office, I mean I've seen the photos and stories of people on slime HRT but it just felt different, like I was going one step too far, I was probably just super anxious, I felt so relieved when he just showed me a list of slime variants instead of laughing. There were so many different options on the list, slimes made of just gel, sap, wax, and there were so many different colors, but that was the problem, they all felt right, I wanted to be any of them.

It was so selfish to ask, but I needed to know if a slime that could change color was possible, or something that could truly transform into any kind of slime. He asked what I meant, if I was looking into becoming a shapeshifter. I shook my head no and said I wanted something like a chameleon. He took off his glasses and pinched his nose, like the weight of every request he ever had just hit him. We, kind of, argued for a while. Well it was him telling me all the different reasons it wouldn’t work or how some people had set up safe LED strips to become a slime strobe globe of different colors, but for some reason it was the one thing I didn’t want to budge on. The one thing I was certain I wanted was that I wouldn’t be certain about my final choice. I was actually ready to just punch this old man until he suddenly folded to my demands and told me he'd need time to make a new variant for something like that. Something about a membrane and chromatophores I think. He also stated, bluntly, that I still needed to pick the type of slime. Being able to switch from red to blue is one thing but there needs to be a base. 

There were a lot of good options, to the point it took me an hour to go through everything and just think about it. I was probably pushing him a bit too close to his next appointment with how long I was searching through options. It certainly makes me wonder how anyone can just know the answer right away. Eventually I had to settle on one and chose the soap variant. I was told it wasn’t actual soap, but it smelled nice and helped deal with germs. I’m not a germaphobe but I like the idea of smelling nice all the time.

After that, I was told I would be contacted eventually when my medication was ready. The wait could be best be described as brutal. There were a lot of calls I made only for me to be told it wasn’t ready yet. I thought I got scammed, like I went to the wrong place and that quack doctor was just faking everything and I wouldn't ever get to be the real me. The most I got was a message once a month saying the research was going well, if I was lucky. 

It was about a year when I got a call back from him, explaining that my medication was ready. I'll be honest, I thought he wouldn't have ever completed it and just stole $600 out of my bank account for a single appointment. I have it now though, a bottle of gel capsules. They taste awful, like shoving soap into my mouth, which makes sense thinking about it. Apparently I won't need to take my normal hormone medication after a bit. Which is good because it's really expensive to pay for both. I guess that concludes my thoughts on the first day. The doc wants me to keep writing down my physical changes but also that I write down my emotional state as well. I don't really get why that’s so important, but whatever, it’s the least I can do if I finally get to be the slime girl I always wanted to be. I can't wait to see how I turn out.

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Next

Thank you for reading through this story. While I’m sure it’s obvious, this is a story inspired by @ayviedoesthings own Dragon HRT as well as @welldrawnfish Fish HRT. I’ve loved these stories ever since they first came out. But I never felt like I had a story of my own to write until I read @sandyca5tle own slime HRT. Please check out all these people’s stories if you haven’t already, and thank you to sandyca5tle for really lighting the fire in me that made me want to try my hand at this sort of thing. I have plans to continue this for a while, not sure how long it’ll be but I want to be able to write a new segment at least one post every one to two weeks. I hope you enjoyed this, and please let me know if you have any advice on how to improve my writing. Thank you so much for reading all this, seriously, it means the world to me. 

[mxmorbidmidnight]

Can you control what you shapeshift into?

I greet thee dear! I suppose it depends. Shapeshifting is as a dance just as it is survival. I shift at my whims, taking delight in my fluidity. There is a wilderness within me and around me that drives change. This is why I cannot stay the same form for long. The beast will long to shift. But what of changing at will?

My comfort in fluidity means that I can take upon a form where I am fluid and able to morph at my pleasing. And yet some changes will come that make it so I cannot force myself out of a form. As I previously mentioned, survival.

In threatened situations certain forms will arise, ones to protect. My surroundings do influence my forms. When I am around a certain close friend of mine I become a soft house cat. I never take this form whenever I am not with them and likely could not even if I wanted to. If I feel male on a certain day I cannot force myself to be female. There is a deep and primal instinct within me, tells me who I am and as a wild beast will not change. Shapeshifting for me is not about freedoms therefore I cannot force myself into a form I do not want to be in.

My shapeshifting is to do with the wilderness that is my will. In its nature it cannot be tamed or forced. Just as I cannot force myself to no longer be a shapeshifter, there are times when my soul distinctly feels as a certain form. To change is of no use, and I suppose not possible seeing as I am a shapeshifter only of the spiritual kind.

[dhddmods]

Transreproductive/Diffprodu flags!

We decided to make flags for transreproductive terms! We included the definitions for ya'll.

Transreproductive/Diffprodu

Meaning: A person that desires a different reproductive system to the one they currently have.

The purple represents androgynous-associated sex traits. The blue represents masculine-associated sex traits. The green represents neutral-associated sex traits. Yellow represents xenic-associated sex traits. White represents sex fluidity. Black represents the teresex (angenital, angonadal, and anutero) umbrella. Orange represents outherine-associated sex traits. Red represents feminine-associated sex traits. The shades of brown represent the BIPOC community. The pinkish symbols in the center of the flag represent the uterus/prostate and gonads.

Transgonadal/Diffgonadal

Meaning: A person that desires different gonads to the ones they were born with.

Transovarian/Diff-O

Meaning: A person that desires ovaries.

Transtesticular/Diff-T

Meaning: A person that desires testicles.

Transovicle/Diff-OT

Meaning: A person that desires a combination of testicles and ovaries.

Transute/Diffut

Meaning: A person that desires a different reproductive organ (prostate or uterus) than they were born with.

Transuteric/Diff-Ut

Meaning: A person that desires a uterus.

Transprostatic/Diff-Pro

Meaning: A person that desires a prostate.

Transxenive/Diffxeno/Xenogonadal

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are not currently known to be possible for human biology.

Astroxenive/Diffastro

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are related to space. For example, desiring two miniature planets as gonads.

Elexenive/Diffelem

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are related to elements/weather. For example, desiring a bubble instead of a uterus, and tornados instead of gonads.

Mythicxenive/Mythixenive/Mythoxenive/Diffmythic

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are related to mythology/mythic beings. For example, desiring a reproductive system found in a mythological being.

Faunaxenive/Diffauna

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are animalistic. For example, desiring a bird's reproductive system.

Floraxenive/Difflora

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are plant-related. For example, desiring vines and fruit instead of fallopian tubes and ovaries.

Technoxenive/Difftech

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are mechanical, robotic, or digital. For example, desiring a reproductive organ that is made of metal and bolts.

Morphixenive/Diffmorphi

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that can morph or retract. For example, desiring gonads that can shift between testes and ovaries.

Comboxenive/Diffcombo

Meaning: A person that desires gonads or reproductive organs that are a mixture not yet seen as biologically possible for humans. For example, a testicle that functions as a uterus (retracting into the inguinal canal when impregnated and growing a baby there.)

[deepdreamnights]

More video tinkering with Vidu 1.5

Vidu hit 1.5 this morning for testing, which I get access to as part of the artist's program. While making raw material for a "Big Professor" project-

(Shown here to establish a 1.0 baseline)

-I nuked most of my credits, I've still got enough to try out the new features and give you all a rundown of them.

First major change is resolution options. Fast, 720, or 1080. Shown here is my first attempt at a 1080 gen, using the same prompt as above. While most vids in this post will be gifs for ease of use, this one is an MP4 to provide full evaluation.

Ignore the odd playback speed, since that's something you'd fix in post. The gif at the start was one of my most stable renderings of Big Professor under v1. Got some minor wonk in the details, little distortion around the prof's claw and the kid in the first half second, but otherwise well above the average of the 1.0 versions I've been working with, especially the clarity on the button text.

The second one is a re-run of the same prompt, minus some detail issues with one shin, the level of consistency is promising.

720 can go up to 8 seconds, 1080 tops off at 4. At present, 1.5 does not have an upscale function. If you're not tinkering to test out prompts I'd generally recommend 1080, even for lower-res projects, for the purposes of being able to crop and/pan.

For most of these, assume I'm using either 720 or 1080 gens.

Multi-Subject Reference-to-Video

THIS is the big winner of the setup. Previously, ref-to-video only could handle a single referenced subject image. The current setup now allows you to reference up to three per generation.

Those can be characters, props, or settings, and it can be used for morphing effects. This is good, because first-frame-last-frame is more finnicky than reference-to-video. The obvious use is to create multi-character scenes, and it works well for that:

But it has other uses. For example, here I used:

And while this one was reversed and trimmed, it displays the potential for using the feature for transformation sequences. The backgrounds are especially helpful, since Vidu's internally-generated toon backgrounds are very modern and digital-painting-looking (the gif of Mrs. Nice turning back and forth into Mrs. Nautilus at the top of the section didn't use a background image reference) and as always, I like it retro.

To that point, using the more comic-booky Mrs. Nice control drawing didn't work near as well as the more period-accurate one:

And while I'll personally be cutting out frames to produce a more accurate 1980s TV animation look, the raw fluidity is bound to appeal to the majority of users, and minor issues like the color of Mrs. Nice's blouse changing mid-transformation are easy enough to fix manually (though if a flaw looks enough like a traditional animation screwup, I might just leave it in)

And another fun feature? Movement amplitude control.

In my last post about it, I said Vidu likes to move, and if you need a more subtle shot, like this one, setting the movement amplitude control to small is your move. (Funny how the robot interpreted the book binding as a mouth.) If something's too static you can up the movement as well, but I haven't had that problem much.

In terms of generation quality, 1.5 is a good but not huge leap up from 1.0. at least in terms of what I've made so far. Aesthetics are very similar, but issues of tearing, distortion, and wonky action are lessened.

And it's way better at understanding triceratops, so thumbs up there.

This is one of my wonk-tests, but man, check that walk cycle. This is why the movement controls are important, sometimes when set to auto a dialog scene becomes a weird chase.

Now, in terms of generation costs (and this can always change), 1.5 seems more expensive but in the end it works out more or less the same.

A 1.0 quality 8-second gen upscaled to max res would be 24 points (16 for the quality 8-seconds, 8 for the upscale), and an 8-second 720 render is also 24 points (as is a 4-second 1080).

Yeah, you don't want to use "Fast" in most cases. While both the 720 and fast versions here both have flaws (Bruce's disappearing popcorn bucket, etc), the 720 res version is substantially more on-model for both characters.

To close out, a bit of fun wonk. To try out the effect, I prompted using a "Specialist Matt Trakker" G.I.Joe/M.A.S.K. crossover figure as a character reference, to see if it could translate a character from toy to live action. And it can-

Though it is very, very literal.

The combination of live action-esq person and accurate G.I.Joe joints is harrowing, but there's potential there for some wild variants on the Toy Story/A Christmas Toy/'Wynona's Big Brown Beaver'-Music-Video-by-Primus concept.

[divinegrump]

Aziraphale trots excitedly over to his desk, his hands prancing in the air as he goes. "Crowley my dear, you won't believe the purchase I've just made!"

"Wazzit, Angel?" Crowley is lounging in an arm chair, quickly becoming more a strangely shaped decorative pillow than a sitting demon.

Aziraphale lifts a antenna'd little box up, presenting it to his demon: "Ta-da! It's a radio, isn't it darling?"

"It's quite obviously a radio, and one could call it that, if they'd like."

The angel seems to wilt a little.

"But it's a..." (Crowley seems to falter trying to find a compliment, out of practice as he is) "...It's a fine shade of blue."

"Oh! Let me play it for you!" Aziraphale sets it gently back on the desk, bending slightly forwards to turn it on. Crowley studiously pretends to be doing anything other than looking in the direction of the radio, trying to get his breathing back to normal as the angel's pants stretch across his... well, stretch with his movement. Pesky human responses, he doesn't even need to breathe.

Aziraphale presses a button on the side of the radio and it crackles some news caster's voice through the speaker "...showers late into the evening, humidity at-" Aziraphale changes the station. A song that sounds like ABBA and Dolly Parton in some combination floats sweetly into the room. Aziraphale frowns "Oh. Beebop." He reaches towards the tuning knob- "Aw leave it, Angel, you heard the man, it'll rain all day-"

Aziraphale turns "You made it rain all day-"

Crowley stands- morphing from decorative pillow to more of a tall and alluring coatrack - "Either way, whoever's fault it is - and however the traffic may be piling up-" He grins a devious half smile, "We're stuck inside all day-"

"All I'm askin baby- Please please please," croons the Radio.

"All I'm askin baby- Please please please," croons Crowley, making an exaggerated bow, extending his hand to Aziraphale. Aziraphale tells himself he isn't blushing.

He extends his hand to Crowley-

"I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker," snarks the radio.

"Crowley! It's- it's not decent!"

Crowley takes the hand Aziraphale had retracted in shock, snaking his other hand around Aziraphale's gorgeous- Aziraphale's waist, Crowley corrects himself, pretending to be suave, "it won't kill you, Angel," he hums into the blonde curls by his ear.

Aziraphale does his best to relax. But- "Crowley, Crowley, dear, you're, well, let me." He gently scoops his wrist beneath Crowley's, encircling the thin dark duke with his arm, swaying them to the music.

Crowley, for all his boneless fluidity, takes quite a few moments to begin moving in a way that doesn't resemble the cycle of a cat tripping and pretending they haven't tripped.

They both pretend not to have heard the radio, "...we could live so happily." They both pretend there wasn't an aching moment they looked into each other's eyes. They both pretend not to have enjoyed that momentary closeness as much as they did.

[idle-skull]

“For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” (James 2:13)

.

Nevada is a former member of the Louisiana BoS (Locally known as The Brotherhood of Blades) who abandoned the organization during his late teens. Since then it’s been over a decade, he’s been everywhere between the Pelican State & California, but eventually he settled in Utah. He’s a single father trying to do what’s best for his young son; trying to give him the loving childhood that he himself never got. Nevada is his own brand of Christian, but also experiences a lot of religious guilt from his upbringing.

Louisiana BoS lore:

The Louisiana BoS is a far removed splinter group of the well established organization. Due to the various government research sites in the state, it’s overrun with all matter of mutants & monsters. The only thing holding them back is the Brotherhood & the massive walls erected by remnants of the US military right after the war to keep these mutants trapped between the Louisiana coast & the Sabine & Mississippi rivers.

Naturally, the Louisiana BoS ended up focusing more on killing mutants than on collecting prewar tech & artifacts. Overtime this focus developed into an almost religious fanaticism. This, considering Louisiana’s religious climate, quickly helped the Brotherhood morph into an inquisitorial order of evangelicals. At this point, they cut contact with Any other chapters they had been communicating with, & re-founded themselves into the Brotherhood of Blades.

They have a much more martial focus than other chapters, preferring technologically modified melee weapons over traditional energy weapons & power armor. The BoB also takes on much more clerical titles for their ranks over the traditional BoS terms. They also value fluidity, lethality, & speed in their combat style over overt brute force.

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Gender Fluidity, non-heterosexual, and gender variance behavior in mythology.

For the purpose of this thread, and keeping it short cuz even though this is my off month to finally rest from burn out, I've got publishing obligations, signings, and stuff to do -- we're keeping-- this to South Asian mythology:

I've already done a thread about third sex/intersex and trans (Hijra) in South Asian culture and the portrayals in a pop culture IP recently - Monkey Man by Dev Patel --

This is a short primer really:

Harihara - the union representing totality/oneness of all existence is the being born of the union of Shiva and Vishnu (who at prior to this morphs into Mohini, the female celestial temptress who Shiva becomes besotted with and tries to get intimate with), Vishnu changes back amidst this and the two fuse into a being. The ability of celestial beings | gods | goddesses to morph, change shape and gender in Vedic to Hindu mythology is well-established/normal. But there are many legends about Mohini, including the birth of her (Vishnu, his female avatar form being Mohini) son, Shasta, with Shiva. Mohini is also known as a femme fatale archetype, seducer, temptress, as well as someone known for destroying/seducing demons to their doom.

One thing to remember is that the Vedic religion and its stories are old, older than our records because the stories, songs, poetry of it all existed before written records and were transmitted orally. There are also varied versions of the epics, such as Tamil recountings of Mahabharata for example, in where one such example exists.

Krishna also takes the form of Mohini to marry Aravan (in Tamil) Iravan otherwise to give Aravan the chance to experience love before his death. There is a festival celebrated to this in the month of Chitrai (April/May) at the Koothandavar Temple dedicated to Iravan during which, Hijras (the third sex, transgender, intersex, and or eunuchs as well) celebrate Krishna/Mohini marrying Aravan and then mourn Aravan/Iravan's death as he sacrificed himself.

It must be noted that there is artwork and mention throughout the wide spread of Vedic upwards stories (and how many interpretations, takes, and varies stories there are) of same sex and yonic/non-vaginal sex relationships, births, and more.

There's also inter-being...?

Erotica/romance authors help me out here? Inter...celestial sex?

Apsara, devas, asura, humans, demigods. Look, lots of sex of all kind happens, and it's normal.

There's also the story of Arjuna to consider: when he refuses the seductive advances of Urvashi, she curses him to be a Klba, or member of the third gender. Later when Arjuna adopts the name of Brihannala, the curse takes effect as Arjuna dresses in women's clothing, and because of this, Arjuna is able to gain entrance to the kingdom of Virata in the Padma Purana and teach the high arts of music, singing, and dance, to the king's daughter and princess. Later, he is turned into a woman when he wishes to take part in Krishna's mystical dance which only women may attend.

Then there is Ila, a character cursed by Shiva and Parvati to change genders each month.

NOTE: there are MANY versions of the story of Ila, but it is canonical they changed gender -- known as Sudyumna as a woman, and Ila as a man.

Ilā is considered the chief progenitor of the Lunar dynasty of Indian kings – also known as the Aillas.

Continuing. In one story, Ila marries Budha (not Buddha the former king and founder of Buddhism), but Budha that is the god Mercury -- Budha is aware of Ila's origins as a man and changing status, but only marries Ila in his feminine state, and honoring that part of them as his wife and only when Ila is in that state. He does not enlighten Ila to the changing effect as each gender is unaware of the other and those lives.

The tale of Ila's transformations is told in the Puranas as well as the Indian epic poems, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata.

This is just a little thread. Anyways, I'm off now to sign nearly 2000 pages (won't finish today) and have an achey hand while I do more research and trying to improve the prose style I want for book three of Tales of Tremaine.

❤️ thank you. Remember, be kind.

[esouliie]

epitome of art | immortal she.

(ballerina!natasha x reader)

summary | You had known her before she was the Black Widow…when she was just Natalia… the ballerina who had stolen your heart.

notes | here is part 1 of epitome of art. i was going to post this tomorrow but was feeling generous. also, count how many times i use ‘gaze’. without further ado, leave a like, comment & reblog. enjoy! :)

word count | 2.4K

You first hear about her in the local newspaper.

Carelessly flicking through the print before being greeted by an overwhelming ripple of colour. An entire page dedicated to the infamous Alianova Ballet Company of Russia. The company was the most well-known in Europe. There was no high-profile event where they didn’t perform or weren’t invited.

Like most ballet companies, there were more women than men. They all stood tall in a line upon a stage, clad in their tutus. Each and every face was more beautiful than the last as your gaze scans over the large photograph.

However, her gracious features draw your attention. Her eyes were the blue-green of mountain lakes, with tones that could share tales of sky and evergreen giants. Her braided hair sunk past her shoulders and fell to her waist. as she stood at the end next to a blonde woman, shorter than her by no more than two inches. Both smiled gracefully as their hands folded over one another.

You didn’t think much of it for a moment, gliding over the words beneath the two, but you can't seem to help yourself and your gaze returns to the photograph.

Natalia Romanova -The Prima Ballerina of Russia.

--

A week later, you find yourself outside the theatre hosting Alianova Company’s Swan Lake. The front of the building is lit from within, casting a soft glow over the massive posters hung from nearby. You had never before seen a ballet. Despite all of the other girls in your classes growing up, you never had a ballet phase, preferring to play soccer and volleyball instead.

Inside was just as magnificent. Plush royal blue velvet covers every surface - all the seats, the floors, the stage curtains - matched in grandeur by gold trim and soft lighting around the tiers. The ceiling above you is arched and golden, with lights glistening around the dome. As you gaze around the theatre in awe, you notice people fill their seats from either side of you. Within a few minutes, the lights dim and the orchestra begins to play.

It was nothing like you expected, all flawless grace and long lines. Having never danced before, you were enthralled by the dancers' elegant movements, the fluidity of their limbs and the powerful leaps across the stage. The dancers possessed the ability to morph time and defy gravity it seems.

Thirty minutes easily slip by before four swans take the stage. You lean forward in your seat, glancing over the balcony for a wider view. The ballerinas move in unison, their arms crossed over one another. Their light pink tutus, illuminated in a swirl of rainbow hues, bounce as their ribbon-tied ankles push their body fluently off the ground.

As wonderful as all the performers were, something about Natalia captures your attention the most.

Despite the fact that the dance is one of synchronism, your eyes follow only her. From your high seat, she dances as if it were the only way her body knew how to speak, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, telling a story in a way that speech alone could never achieve.

Bewitched, you fail to register the other swans join the stage.

An anomaly- a prince- glides towards the redhead.

Except for a stray curl that tumbles delicately over his brow, his short, dark hair remains in place. His emotive eyes were the colour of a cloudless sky seen through a broken prison wall, of a perfect raindrop on a blue poppy, of a river racing to join the great ocean.

The audience vibrates as the performance transitions to a duet between Natalia and the prince. She floats through the air and twirls effortlessly in a serenity the audience craves. The prince summons his strength as he lifts her above his head. The dance between them exudes intimacy, a tug-of-war between the two lovers. Strings of classical music speak to parts of the brain that predate language, stirring the deepest part of the soul.

The music thickens.

Their sensuality entwines before bursting into the most vibrant colours. The strings eventually fade and the curtains close as he runs off stage and she collapses gracefully into herself.

Time seems to lose you as the audience’s eruption breaks you free from a trance. The curtain moves to reveal the cast running onto the stage. Natalia will be back to accept her much deserved adulation. All the swans await with grace before the prince and the swan appear.

The audience grows louder as waves of roses were thrown at the ballerina, narrowly missing her as they landed at the front of the stage. Her stoic demeanour had vanished, and she was smiling freely. You can tell by the scarlet flush on her cheeks and the heaving of her chest.

She was the epitome of art.

You couldn’t help but clap and add to uproar. She graces you with a few more seconds in her presence before she leads the dancers off the stage. The curtains close for the final time tonight and you exhale a deep breath you weren't aware you were. Subtle tears fall from your lashes, the salt greeting the smile upon your lips.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Your seated neighbour innocently asks, having stood up to put her long coat on.

“Yeah.” You answer in a daze. Memories of the night replaying through your mind. Anything to see the Prima again.

The woman smirks, her palm finding perch on your forearm. “Natalia manages to leave everyone stunned. It’s her superpower as Russia’s Prima Ballerina.”

You had only just noticed the woman’s Russian accent. Whipping your heard in her direction, you spot blonde curls- the colour oddly familiar - disappear into the crowd leaving the auditorium.

The Russian Prima. Natalia Romanova.

No wonder her dance provoked such immeasurable feelings you’d never felt before. You ached for the ballerina; to feel the ripples of hard muscle beneath her soft skin, to trail your lips over the vast expanse of her ivory skin, to weave your fingers through her red curls and pull, pull, pull.

You burned for Natalia.

That was the last time you saw her.

---

Years later, after graduating college with high honours, you land an interview to intern for Tony Stark – the infamous Iron Man – at SHIELD. Working for them meant you’d be in close proximity with the Avengers. Not that you pay them much attention, Iron Man was the only hero you needed.

The philanthropist was your idol. Being a tech-nerd yourself, you had looked up to him since you could remember, and when you heard about this incredible opportunity, you knew you had to take it.

There were no specifications for the job. For all you knew, you would be made his personal assistant, and you’d accept without hesitation.

The day comes sooner than you'd like, but you're prepared. Your bedroom walls are covered in disorderly piles of notes and post-it notes containing rehearsed interview responses. You wanted this more than anything. Even as you stood in front of the mirror, pulling on a tailor-fitted, slimming skirt suit you had purchased specifically for this interview, new answers continued unabated.

You looked good. Really good.

With curls that conceal your chest, your fingers fluff at your roots before sweeping the tresses over your shoulders. You were nothing if not keenly aware of your appearance and its impact on others. 

SHIELD was a large organisation, and while intelligence was favoured, image could always be used to one's advantage, particularly when dealing with men. You'd learned from previous interviews with large corporations that there was very little to lose and a lot to gain by flaunting your appeal.

It's not so much what patriarchy does to you but rather what it can do for you.

You left an hour before the interview starts, easily participating city traffic at this time in the morning. You were lucky enough to hail a cab right outside your apartment complex. You shift nervously in the back of the car, reviewing some last-minute information on Earth's greatest heroes.

Normal looking faces stare back at you, with simple information written underneath.

Product of War.

Billionaire.

Scientist.

Norse God.

Archer.

What you found most intriguing was one of the heroes didn’t have a photo. An agent known as The Black Widow had the littlest information.

No background history, no accolades, no picture.

Just a name.

The anonymity of this individual perplexes you, but as the taxi turned onto Park Avenue, the sight of Stark Tower in the distance snaps you back to reality.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you weave your way through the throngs of people toward the revolving glass. Having practiced walking in heels - something you had never worn until you started job hunting - you manage to make it in one piece. The inside was nothing like the hectic streets of 7am New York.

As you approach the only desk on the open floor, your heels click loudly, drawing the attention of the elderly lady behind it.  

“Good morning, I’m here for a meeting with Mr Stark.”

“What’s the name?” The woman asks.

“Y/N L/N.”

“Oh yes, our newest intern.” She beams.

"Hopefully." You laugh politely, not wanting to jinx your chance before even meeting your potential boss. You should never count your chickens before the eggs hatch... or something along those lines.

“Right, Mr Stark is expecting you.” She places the phone back in its holder.

Since when did she call-?

The receptionist gestures to the lift on the right. “Top floor. You won’t miss it.”

The rumble of business men entering the building startles the silence. You rush towards the lift, not wanting to share it with anyone.

The ride was nothing short of terrifying. Constantly on edge someone was going to step in and you’d have to engage in small talk, or the fact that the Tony Stark was awaiting your arrival.

Fortunately, no one called for the elevator, and you were on the top floor in no time. The doors slide open to reveal a woman with long blonde hair. She introduces herself as Pepper – Stark’s personal assistant - and she’s been instructed to lead you towards his office.

No other words are exchanged between you both. The door to the office creeps into view. Excitedly, you’re already opening it before remembering to knock.

“Come in.” A voice bellows from within, and you’re forced to take a deep breath before proceeding.

“Oh, it’s you!” You cheeks immediately warm under the man’s gaze. Pepper entering behind you forces you deeper into the spacious room, and the door click shuts.

No turning back now.

Tony Stark rises, working his way towards you, his hand already extended for you to take.

You grasp it confidently. “It’s such an honour to meet you, sir. I’m such a huge fan of your work. I know everything about you.”

You fumbled. Practice composure flew straight out the window in the first minute. You shouldn't be surprised if passers-by noticed your flushed cheeks from down there.

Mr Stark’s laugh puts an end to your self - deprecation as he pats your hand, which is still grasped in his. “That’s good to know.”

He doesn't let go. His other hand presenting the the white sofa across from his large mahogany desk. It’s you that ends the contact.

The sofa feels like silk underneath your fingertips. It most likely costs more than your entire apartment. He returns to his chair and gives you a knowing look. He must have flustered woman fawning over him every day. You look around the room, avoiding eye contact. Pepper was now nowhere to be seen.

“I see you’ve just graduated. Bachelors in Computer Science. MIT.” He reads aloud from your resume.

Getting into MIT, was no small feat. You had worked your ass off throughout high school and even gave away all your free time to volunteer at your local soup kitchen. No doubt you struggled immensely, putting your mental health on the back burner for years, but you persevered and were proud of your accomplishments thus far.

"Well, I can't think of anyone more perfect. You've got it, kid.” Those words leave you breathless. Your lungs refusing to take in oxygen.

You couldn't have gotten the internship that easily. All that time, spent on perfecting your answers to impress the billionaire, was for naught.

“W-what? You don’t even want to ask any questions…? Why am I interested in the internship…? What do I want to do in the future…? What makes me think I'm a good fit for SHIELD?"

Stark snorts and leans back, his heels resting on the desk. The man was clearly amused to have left you so dumbstruck. “No, I know everything I need to.”

The words barely register, the goosebumps having frozen your body stiff, your palms rooted to plush sofa. Your eyes sting as you take in more light than usual.

He sighs, shuffling in his seat. "However, I'm sorry to admit that the internship isn't exactly what you anticipated.”

Confusion is written across your face, and your brow wrinkles as panic fills your chest. Your heartbeat running too fast for your body to keep up with.

If the internship with Stark wasn’t what you applied for then what did you apply for? Too many thoughts race through your mind, each one making less and less sense.

“You won’t be working for me.” He clarifies.

Your mind goes quiet.

He reaches for a desk button. “Pepper, call her in.”

The distant ding of the elevator, accompanied by slow footfalls, reaches your ears. The other door, positioned to the right of Mr Stark’s desk, opens and a tall woman glides through. Red hair cascades in a heavy braid over her shoulder, obstructing her face from your view. Well- muscled arms and legs clad in a leather suit carry her towards Stark.

“Red.” He acknowledges her before nodding his head towards you.

She spins in your direction.

Blue-green.

Heavy braid.

You were lost for words, unable to turn away.

Once again, time is lost to you. How similar it is to water; both can pass slowly, a single drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by without notice.

Her gaze sweeps over you, her face expressionless as she reads you. Her body so still, so poised, that you're not sure if she's breathing. Full red lips sit in contrast to her fair skin. Her eyes remain as stone. Pain seeps thought the cracks. They're blue-green, but not as bright as you remember.

Still, she’s as beautiful as the first time you saw her.

Natalia Romanova.

“Instead, you'll be working for Red over here, and I'm guessing from your expression that you have no clue who she is.”

Russia’s Prima Ballerina.

“She’s the Black Widow.”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹ ⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ

taglist: @vancityfire13 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @jestercat28 @truthindreams @me-uglypretty @karmasgxrl

[adreoss]

The Devil’s Due

Have you ever seen a demon in love with a goddess?

The odds are not as low as you might think The devil got astonished by the clearness of her eyes Reminding him of the calmness of the depths Obsidian spheres reflect her kind heart Tender and comfortable at first sight They looked at me with wonder and affair because of how strange and peculiar I must be to her.

A dark aura recovering my-self invited her to feel the warmth of my chest Her hands, refurbished with a sweet touch, reached at my face with praise My sight from above made her feel petite and weak to my spell I pulled her in, and she melted I could feel the fluidity of her body morphing and covering mine with grace Her eyes, those damned eyes, led me into her domains, there in heaven But while I was there, I could feel her radiance flickering down I tainted orange, black, her perfect blue sky I made her light gravitate towards my darkness And although her eyes showed a brighter glow I backed down before I made her night Unfortunately, my hatred is so pure it can hurt you. Which means: By remaining together, you could have transformed me into a god. But the possibility of you becoming a devil was the result I couldn't stand And I loved you too much to risk that chance I'll never forget the juiciness of your soul or the tenderness of your body. And I will forever remember that day we reminded them all how twilight was created. I still wonder: How could a goddess fall in love with a demon? But what really makes me ponder: Why does a demon write about looking at her?

Adreoss

[veloursdor]

based on this au where anakin died in childbirth and obi-wan is left alone to raise the twins, but he can’t bear to be near them without breaking down because he misses anakin too much.

aka neglectful father widow-wan

(1.2k words)

“There must be something wrong with me, since Father loves everyone, but he doesn’t love me.” - Luke and Leia, circa 12 years after their birth.

Leia was trying her best to prove to everyone around her, but especially Father, that she was meant to hold a lightsaber and that she had what it took to train as a Jedi. She was standing in front of the Council – various Jedi Masters, padawans and younglings alike –, trying to show her progress regarding her forms. She knew about the multiple sabre forms there existed, but the one that suited her the most was Form V, Djem So. There was something about the fluidity of the form that allowed her movements to flow naturally though her, connecting her with her lightsaber like no other form did. 

As she practised her movements for the entire room to see, the idea of spinning her lightsaber with a little twirl made her giggle, thinking it would look so cool when she did that. However, half way through her twirl, the sound of the entrance door opening stopped her in her tracks, making her see just in time how her father walked away from the room without looking back. She felt her heart break as the doors closed behind his back, tears scorching her eyes while she tried valiantly to hold them back.

“Thank you, Leia Skywalker, for a wonderful demonstration,” Master Windu said with a kind smile before motioning Leia to step away from the mat, allowing another youngling to take her place. Luke’s smile – bright and enormous as Leia showcased her progress – had dimmed with their Father’s departure. Luke hadn’t shown his progress to the Jedi, nervous about their Father’s approval. “Now, young Ezra Bridger, step forward.”

“I see you’re making progress with Djem So, young Leia,” Master Koon said to her kindly after she had sat down between him and Luke. She smiled as best as she could at the old Master, even though she knew he was lying to her. Because if she had truly done a ‘wonderful job’ that showcased her ‘progress’ with Form V, then Father wouldn’t have walked away from the presentation without casting a glance back at her.

She continued to disappoint him, no matter how hard she tried.

“Excellent form, young Ezra,” Master Windu said as Ezra stepped away from the mat, high-fiving Knight Dume with a bright smile on each of their faces. 

Leia’s insides burned with jealousy at the sight, knowing she would never get to share a moment like that with her father. She was better than Ezra in every possible way, yet Father had the time to share a praising word with Bridger for his ‘achievements in class’ and never for her.

“Luke Skywalker,” Master Windu’s voice called for her brother, making him jump. Leia eyed him curiously as Luke stepped forward, a lightsaber that wasn’t the one he had made after their trip to Ilum clutched tightly in his hands. 

It was beautifully crafted, with a ridged hand grip and a solid casing, something in it causing Leia’s insides to hurt at the sight. She had never seen that particular lightsaber before, but there was something about it that was achingly familiar, and called for her.

Ignoring the weird feeling inside of her, Leia saw her brother attempt and fail to perform Form III – Father’s form –, before his movements naturally morphed into Form V. She rolled her eyes at his obvious attempt at copying her, clearly trying to impress their absent father. 

“Luke Skywalker!” Their father’s voice echoed throughout the room, startling her from her musings and causing Luke to drop the lightsaber he was holding, a bright smile on his face that dimmed down and died the closer their father got to him. 

“Where did you get that?” Father asked her brother once he reached him, before taking the lightsaber from Luke’s hands and clutching it tightly to his chest. “This doesn’t belong to you.”

“I… I found it in your room, Father,” Luke said, his voice shaking alongside his body, as he looked at the floor with embarrassment and shame. “I… I know we’re not supposed to go there, but…”

“Don’t ever touch this again,” their Father said with finality before turning around and leaving the room as suddenly as he had entered it, leaving a deadly silence at his back. 

Leia could only stare in horror as Luke remained standing in the middle of the room, tears running down his face, his shoulders shaking with the strength of his cries. She looked around towards the Masters of the Jedi Council, hoping one of them would stand up and comfort her brother, rescue him from being the centre of all the pity she could feel through the Force.

But no one moved, and Luke continued to cry, silently for the entire room to witness.

“Young Skywalker,” Master Yoda started to say before Luke ran away from the room, the echoes of his footsteps muffling his cries. Leia wanted to go after him, comfort him like she always did whenever Father was too busy to play with them.

But she couldn’t move, a glimmer of hope that her Father would return and praise her for her forms made her remain in place. Luke will be fine, she mused to herself after watching Master Tano stand up from her seat and follow after Luke with a thunderous expression on her face.

That night, after everything had been said and done, Leia failed to fall asleep as Luke continued to play with his toy ship that Senator Amidala had gifted him on their last birthday, saying that it was something their dad would’ve wanted him to have. To Leia, she had given her a book on ‘Diplomacy and Politics’, saying that the daughter of the famous Negotiator should know how to traverse through lies and deceits with ease. 

Leia treasured the gift as if her father himself had given it to her, knowing that she could prove to him that she would be a perfect companion on his travels for peace negotiation treaties if she only studied hard enough.

But before she could plan any further about a future with her father – as Master and Padawan –, the door of their room opened, surprising her with their father’s face. He looked sad and apologetic as he always did whenever he was in their presence, his eyes barely looking at Leia before focusing on Luke, who was looking at their father with a yearning expression on his face.

However, Father’s expression broke down after he caught sight of Luke’s toy in his hand. His breath got caught in his throat – tears pooling in his eyes – and, without a word, he turned around and closed the door behind his back, leaving the twins engulfed in darkness.

“Well done, loser,” Leia said bitterly before turning her back on Luke to stare at the wall. “Now he hates us even more.”

She ignored her brother’s distress, focusing on her own breathing. Leia could no longer coddle Luke’s moods, as they only served to cross Father even further. She had to prove to her Father that she would be a great padawan for him, and in order to do that she needed to toss Luke aside and focus on herself.

Father would love her if she proved to him that she was better than Luke.

[xgeronimowrks]

This work is part of my series "Morphomata", a collection that explores the morphing and juxtaposition of diverse ideas and styles into intricate and meditative thought-forms. Each composition blends hand-drawn sketches, asemic writing, and AI-generated shapes, reflecting my fascination with the interplay between human intuition and machine creativity. Every element, whether meticulously crafted or algorithmically conceived, contributes to a tapestry of interconnected concepts and meanings.

The "Morphomata" series blurs the boundaries between the abstract and the figurative, offering meditative imagery that invites viewers to explore multiple interpretations. The interconnected elements encourage a non-linear engagement with the work, allowing each viewer to uncover unique pathways and narratives within the piece.

Through this fusion of techniques, I aim to examine the tension between structure and unpredictability, control and spontaneity, ancient ideas and modern expressions. The interplay between systems thinking, design, and magic aligns with ancient and modern contemplations of order versus chaos and the interconnectedness of all things.

The resulting pieces are greater than the sum of their parts—reflections of interconnected systems and the fluidity of perception. They are both visual inquiries and contemplative spaces, encouraging a dialogue between the viewer and the work, where meaning evolves with every glance.

The uploaded image is a highly symbolic and abstract collage filled with overlapping themes, blending elements of ancient mysticism, philosophy, visual storytelling, and conceptual systems thinking. Below is an analysis of the visual and thematic aspects of the image:

1. Themes and Concepts:

   - Charisma and Spirituality: The word "CHARISMA" at the center, along with references to "The Eye of Ra" and the spiritual and physical planes, evokes ancient mystical and esoteric concepts, suggesting an exploration of influence, presence, and metaphysics.

   - Fragile, Robust, Anti-Fragile Systems: This tripartite model visually explains how systems evolve, contrasting fragility (Damocles), robustness (stability), and anti-fragility (adaptation and growth through stress, represented by the Hydra).

   - Intersection of Advertising and Magic: The Venn diagram linking advertising with magic may hint at the role of manipulation and enchantment in influencing perception and behavior.

   - Art and Design Origins: The graph connecting "Where Art comes from" and "Where Design comes from" suggests a cyclical process of inspiration and intentional creation, emphasizing transformative moments ("BOOM").

2. Symbolism:

   - Unicorn and Wheel: The unicorn atop a wheel signifies purity and imagination juxtaposed with cyclical movement and time.

   - Eye of Ra and Human Observation: References to the spiritual and physical planes imply the duality of perception—one mystical and the other empirical.

   - Animals (Rhino, Bee, Hydra): The hybrid rhino-fly and detailed bee connect nature's elegance with scientific curiosity. The Hydra represents resilience and adaptability, as mythological creatures often symbolize qualities transcending human limitations.

   - Past, Present, Future Dynamics: The looping figure-eight diagrams evoke the concept of eternal return or the cyclical nature of time and memory.

   - Text and Geometry: Mathematical notations, intersecting lines, and shapes serve as a visual language for abstract principles, blending scientific reasoning with artistic intuition.

3. Visual Style:

   - Doodle-Like Drawings: The hand-drawn, seemingly improvisational style creates a sense of playfulness, making complex ideas approachable while evoking the feeling of brainstorming or note-taking in real time.

   - Balance of Complexity and Minimalism: Despite its dense symbology, the use of monochrome ink ensures visual cohesion, and the varying levels of detail (e.g., the intricate bee versus abstract human forms) guide the viewer's attention.

   - Layered Narrative: The interconnected elements encourage exploration of the image in a non-linear fashion, inviting viewers to form their own interpretations.

4. Ancient Mysteries Connection:

   - Esoteric References: The Eye of Ra and references to observation on spiritual and physical planes connect to Egyptian mythology and metaphysical traditions that view sight as a source of creation and transformation.

   - Philosophical Undertones: The interplay between systems thinking, design, and magic aligns with ancient and modern contemplations of order versus chaos and the interconnectedness of all things.

[athenasparrow]

N0. 25 - Photograph | Jily Microfic

@jilymicrofics the "blushing over breakfast" fic is here!

@tiffanytoms here's the whole chocolate and smut combo xx

Read on AO3 | 3k

The cut for smut is here because the entire fic is smutty ; )

However well James Potter knew Lily Evans, she could still be an unpredictable witch. 

She took great pleasure in catching him unaware, she always had.

In their years as rivals it has been by beating him in wit. Now that they were together, her surprises had taken a seductive turn. He should have known Lily Evans would be a tease. 

James honestly wasn't sure how he had survived this long. It was going to be rather embarrassing when they named his cause of death at his funeral.

Perhaps he should have been more suspicious when an owl landed on the breakfast table, a small square package hanging from its talons. But James was the trusting sort, and so he took the box without hesitation.

He paid no heed to Sirius’ story as he lazily undid the simple bow, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. 

This was his second mistake. 

The pumpkin juice ejected from his mouth hitting Peter square in the face as James slammed the top of the package closed. He could feel the flush crawling up his neck and over his face. 

Remus turned, an eyebrow raised at the display, while Sirius’ face was slowly morphing into glee as he glanced between James and the box. 

And then the cause of it all arrived at the table. Her vibrant hair seemed to glow in the early morning light; cascading down her back in loose waves that James ached to run his hands through. James’ eyes wandered over the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, taking in the green eyes that sparkled with mischief. And, oh god, her lips. She smiled at him and he might have mistaken it for a sweet sort of smile if he couldn’t read the wickedness that was in her eyes. Her lips were full and plump, coated with one of the muggle glosses she wore that James knew tasted like cherry.

“Morning James,” she said sunnily as she took out her wand, cleaning Peter in an instant. 

James found he didn't have a response. He was much too captivated by the way she spoke, the fluidity with which she moved. It all seemed effortless when he was struggling to even breathe. 

It seemed it didn't matter, for she continued the conversation without him. 

“A package! Did you get a present, James?” Lily said, raising one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him. 

Merlin, this bloody witch. 

James settled for nodding since he was unsure he would be able to speak without croaking. 

“What’s the matter Potter?” Lily said grinning wickedly at him. “Did you not like your present? 

“Merlin Lily, you sent me a naked photograph,” James hissed across the table, finding his voice after a quick glance around to ensure no one but his friends were listening 

“I wasn't naked James,” Lily corrected blithely as she snagged a strawberry off of his plate, smirking as his eyes zeroed in when her lips pursed around it “I was wearing chocolate.”

James gaped at her as Sirius snorted into his porridge. 

“If you don't like it, I can take it back,” Lily said, her fingers walking slowly across the table towards the box. “I suppose I'll have to return the chocolate I got from Honeydukes too” she said, faking a regretful sigh, moving her perfect lips into a playful pout.

James felt his hand yank the box back towards him. “A bottle of chocolate?” he choked, staring at his girlfriend as he felt all of his blood rush south. 

“Mmhmm” she said, winking at him before turning on her heel and starting towards the door. 

Yup. No doubt about it. Lily Evans was a complete and utter tease.  

“You coming?” she called, tossing her hair to look back over her shoulder and James shot out of his chair, the boxed photograph placed strategically in front of his crotch as he tried to walk towards her like nothing was amiss. 

“He’ll be coming alright” he heard Sirius mutter to Remus.

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

Lily swallowed a laugh as she made her way through the corridors, confident James would find her when he caught up. He'd figure out the Room of Requirement was her destination. Nothing else was up this way in the castle. And if he couldn’t deduct this, perhaps because all of his blood was elsewhere, he always had that handy map.

But even though she was expecting him, she still let out a gasp of surprise as strong arms grabbed her, slamming her body into the corridor wall. Her back thudded against the stone wall of the castle and her body thrummed at the feeling of his magic close to hers.

“Can I help you?” Lily purred, smirking up at her boyfriend as he towered over her, his body pressed firmly against her. 

“You know exactly what I want,” James said harshly, his hands digging into her waist. 

“Did my little present get you all worked up James?” Lily asked lasciviously, canting her hips to grind against the delightful bulge in his pants. 

He did an impressive job of swallowing the moan that Lily knew travelled up his throat. 

“You are a fucking tease Lily Evans,” he growled at her, his words exhaling onto her lips as he held his head just out of kissing distance.

“What are you going to do about it?” Lily challenged, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

She saw James’ eyes darken and his hands tighten their already firm grip. He opened his mouth to answer, before snapping it shut, hesitating. 

Huh. That was new. What could he…

“Do you want to punish me, James?” She asked wickedly, leaning in so their lips brushed teasingly. 

She felt the answer in the throb between his legs before she saw it on his face. 

Oh. He did.

Her playful question seemed to have given James the confidence that she was into it, which she definitely was, and his eyes looked nearly black as he tugged her into the room of requirement, shoving her against the door to shut it. 

“What’s your safe word?” He demanded as soon as he was flush against her again. 

“I don't want a safe word” Lily whispered. “Go ahead and dominate me James.”

“Fuck. Are you sure?” He whispered, his eyes turning tender as he searched her face. 

“Does this feel like I'm sure?” Lily said huskily, taking his hand and guiding it from her hips to under her skirt. 

His hand didn’t need more encouragement as it slipped up to the apex of her thighs.

“Where are your knickers?” James choked, his fingers moving in a delicious swipe of her wetness. 

She was soaked.

“I thought they’d just get in the way,” she answered. “I trust you James. You can do whatever you want to me”

That seemed to snap the modicum of restraint James had been holding on to and he cursed, smashing his lips against hers in a lip-bruising kiss before spinning her around so he was pressed against her back. 

Lily’s eyes widened in surprise as she took in the room around her. 

The king bed was dressed in black silk sheets with pieces of silk floating out from the headboard. 

Lily opened her mouth to ask him if he'd always wanted to tie her up, but it seemed her enthusiasm had boosted James’ confidence because his voice was commanding when he spoke. 

“Go stand at the edge of the bed,” he ordered. 

Lily’s feet carried her before her brain caught up, apparently determined to obey the low, commanding voice of her boyfriend. She felt heat travel up her legs and settle in her core as she felt James move behind her. His rough hands started a synchronised trail from her shoulders to the buttons on her blouse.

Lily moaned as he cupped her breasts, before his fingers scrunched the fabric and yanked her shirt open, sending her buttons flying across the bed.

“Did you wear this for me?” James asked huskily, running his thumb over her nipple as he explored the deep blue lace that encased her breasts.

“Yes,” Lily murmured, closing her eyes as she let herself get lost in the pleasure. “I had a matching pair of knickers but I was so wet thinking about you opening my present that I ruined them.”

Her lips curled smugly as James tensed behind her, but she wasn’t prepared for the sharp tweak to her nipple and she gasped. He yanked the material off, leaving her bare to his touch.

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked dangerously, as he pinched her nipple harder between his thumb and index finger.

“No,” Lily said honestly. “But I wanted to.”

“But?” James prodded, moving to her other nipple, leaving the other throbbing and sensitive.

“But I needed you,” Lily whispered.

She heard James swallow, before drawing a deep breath and stepping away from her, his arms dropping from around her.

“Take off your skirt and get on the bed,” he commanded, his tone steadier than Lily would have expected.

Lily hastened to obey, tingling with anticipation for his touch.

“On your knees,” he demanded as she made to lie down.

Lily felt a thrill run through her as she pushed herself back up to a four point kneel.

Having shucked off every stitch, she was completely bare and bent over for him. She was surprised at how much the anticipation excited her - she yearned for him to be equally bare behind her; to satisfy the ache between her legs.

It seemed James had other ideas; Lily felt a smooth material trace up her spine and shivered.

“Don’t touch it,” James commanded as he moved the blindfold over her eyes.

The darkness that encased her seemed to make every touch to her skin feel amplified. 

She shivered as she felt the bindings from the headboard float down and encircle her wrists. She whined as she felt James’ rough, quidditch callused hand trace a line from her ankle to her hip.

She spread her legs – an open invitation if there ever was any – for him to sink into her.

But he resisted.

She felt the light touch of something that wasn’t his hand start to tickle her shoulder. It circled down her side and around her breast leaving a tantalising trail until it stopped at her nipple.

Lily whimpered, pulling against the bindings as her hips tried to find purchase.

“James,” she moaned. “Please touch me.”

She pleaded her encouragement but the feather light touch continued to her naval, around to her inner thigh, never quite to where she wanted it.

Fucking fuck.

“Please,” she whined, trying to thrust down to meet his hand she knew was guiding the feather. Her muscles were taut with frustration and she felt herself coil tighter and tighter with each brush he pursued. It seemed more and more likely with each passing second that she’d be able to summit her peak without the touch she was so desperately craving. 

She could feel the hot trail of liquid running down her thighs, evidence of just how desperate she was for him.

James brought the feather around her hips to her entrance, running a teasing trail around her clit while his other hand came to cup her bum.

“Why did you send that photo?” James said roughly, gripping her bum harder to stop her hips from rutting against the feather.

“To give you a present,” Lily gasped, her mind cloudy with pleasure as he continued to tease her.

She squeaked in surprise when his hand suddenly came down in a stinging slap of her bum.

Her surprise was only furthered by the reaction between her legs. She tried to clench them together as an unmistakable moan escaped her lips.

She thought she heard a deep noise catch in James’ throat at her reaction.

“Why did you give it to me?” he repeated harshly, tormenting her clit with the feather as he soothed the area his hand had just smacked.

“I wanted to tease you,” Lily confessed in a gasp. “I wanted you hard and desperate and ready for me.”

“I was,” James said lowly. “I got hard as soon as I opened that box. I’ve been aching for you ever since.”

Lily heard a needy sound escape her throat at his confession. She could feel he was reaching the end of his tether and could taste her imminent orgasm.

Merlin, if he would only touch her. 

She was balancing on the brink of pleasure, just waiting for him to give her one more nudge. Her heart was racing, her muscles tight and her skin hot and flushed. Every touch, every movement, every sensation was magnified and amplified, intensifying the pleasure he brought down on her. 

“You’re so wet love,” James observed as his hand crept up her leg, collecting the juices that had spilled from her in arousal. “And you taste delicious.”

Lily felt a raw moan leave her. Fuck, if only he’d taste right from the source.

“Do you want to cum Lily?” he asked, his rough hands becoming firmer on her legs as one travelled between her thighs to stroke teasingly at her folds.

“Yes yes, merlin please,” Lily begged, trying to gain purchase on his hand.

“How desperate are you?” James demanded roughly, yanking one leg out so she was spread wide for him.

“So desperate,” Lily whined helplessly, her legs quivering in anticipation. 

She cried out as he blew softly on her folds, his hot breath pushing her one step closer as it landed on the sensitive, swollen skin between her legs.

“Yes you are,” James murmured, moving under her.

“Merlin, fuck yes,” Lily pleaded.

“Tell me you want to cum,” James ordered.

“I want to cum, I want to cum” Lily babbled obediently, desperately rutting her hips, her eyes only seeing as far as the dark material of the blindfold.

“Cum,” James commanded before taking her clit between his lips, his tongue firm against her while he shoved three fingers inside her, curling them around to massage the quivering insides of her walls. 

Lily let out a shattering moan as her body entered the heightened state of orgasm, coiling tighter and tighter until she snapped and the tingles of pleasure washed over her, setting her nerves on fire as she fluttered around his fingers and pressed her aching clit into his mouth.

His tongue kept moving against her, driving her into an oversensitive frenzy of pleas as he took every ounce of pleasure her body could give.

Lily wasn’t sure if she’d blacked out or time had just sped up because suddenly he was over her, her blind fold was ripped away and he was sucking behind her ear.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispered hotly in her ear. “You wanted to cum?”

“Yes, thank you,” Lily breathed, the relief of being satisfied after hours of desperation felt like a warm glow around her.

“Don’t thank me yet,” James whispered, “I’m not done.”

Lily’s eyes shot open as he moved off her, reaching over to grab a bottle of —oh.

“You really liked the chocolate, huh?” Lily breathed as she watched him open the bottle.

“I think that’s a bit of an understatement,” James said, dropping one hand to grasp the prominent bulge straining between his legs.

And now Lily could appreciate what she hadn’t been able to see with her blindfold.

James’ face was beautifully flushed, his hair wild and his pants wet where evidence of his arousal protruded.

Lily felt her lips part as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. 

Fuck, he looked good.

His eyes darkened as he caught her looking, his hand moving to rub himself as his eyes fluttered close.

“You have no idea how hard it was to resist when you were like that,” he confessed lowly. 

“Can I see you?” Lily asked, biting her lip as she felt the telltale signs of arousal pool between her legs once more.

James paused, setting the chocolate down as he moved to unbutton his pants.

Lily bit her lip as he hissed while he unzipped, dipping his hand in to release himself from the confines of his trousers.

And fuck he looked desperate. 

He was harder than Lily had ever witnessed, veins popping and the tip so red it was almost purple. Copious precum was smeared around the head of his cock from when it had been trapped in his underwear, his tip still visibly leaking.

“I want you,” Lily said plainly, unable to tear her eyes away from his quivering, hard cock.

“Almost,” James promised, looking pained but firm in his decision. “I want to lick this off you.” 

Lily spread her legs without protest, displaying her swollen, wet folds – open and ready for him.

James grunted and moved the bottle to drizzle chocolate over her. Lily gasped as the cool liquid hit her breasts, her belly and she arched up when he got to her clit.

James took his time, tracing his tongue on the path the chocolate had created and by the time he reached her centre, she was begging for it once again.

“Mmm,” James hummed as he took a leisurely lick up her wet folds. His tongue felt hot, a contrast to the cooler chocolate and the double sensation made Lily arch up into him, her eyes fluttering closed.

His tongue swirled around her entrance before moving up to her clit, nipping at it before running soothing circles around as his fingers slipped into her.

She was so wet she could hear every movement he made with his hand.

His other hand clenched firmly at the flesh of her bum and he moaned deeply into her, burying his face between her legs.

Lily tugged at her binds, desperate to reach down and touch his head, but she couldn’t get free. His enjoyment in pleasuring her had always turned her on, but Lily didn’t think she’d ever reached this height of arousal before. 

It only peaked further when she caught a glimpse of the evidence he was enjoying himself. 

The sight of his aching hardness leaking a stream of precum so long it pooled on the sheet below him had her legs tremble and her hips snap up to chase her release.

James moved his head to look up at her in surprise. It was very quick. But he recovered from his surprise quickly, adjusting his pace to set her off while his fingered curled inside her.

Lily’s second orgasm came crashing over her, her clit raw as he licked her down from her high.

Barely, recovered, her eyes were pulled back to where he throbbed, unbearably aroused by her climax.

“Untie me James,” she begged. “I want to taste you.”

He groaned, waving his hand so the silks evaporated into thin air. Lily wobbled as she got to her knees, weak from the pleasure that had just wracked her.

She grabbed his hip to keep herself steady as she bent to run her tongue along his tip, tasting him.

“Gahh,” James groaned, hands fisting in her hair as he pushed forward.

Lily opened her mouth wider to accommodate him, moaning around him as he hit the back of her throat. 

She hallowed her cheeks, sucking as she moved with his hips, setting a furious pace that had James babbling within the minute.

She swept her gaze up to look at him and he moaned, staring down at her.

“I want to…fuck…I want to cum all over you,” he growled, his hands tight around her head.

Lily moaned her agreement as her hand crept up his leg to cup his full balls. She felt him jerk and moved her right hand to replace her mouth, while her left cupped her breast up for him as she dropped back. as she dropped back.

“Cum on me James,” she said huskily, her eyes on his.

He throbbed in her hand, strong spurts leaving his tip and decorating her body that had just been licked clean of chocolate.

“Fuck,” he moaned out as she continued stroking him, his eyes sweeping over her.

She must look a sight, she thought. Weak from her own pleasure, hair mussed and lips swollen, covered in his cum.

He voiced her own thought, looking down at her and saying hazily “I wish I had a camera to take another photo of you. This one might just rival your little gift earlier.”

[rviner]

THE MIRROR MAZE

ODESSA

Odessa’s act centers around a mesmerizing and unsettling mirror maze, filled with illusions that play with the audience’s perception of reality. The stage is surrounded by tall, ornate mirrors angled in a circular formation, creating a vast labyrinth of reflections. Odessa begins by stepping through a mirror at the center of the ring, entering and exiting mirrors with graceful fluidity, creating an effect where it appears she’s in multiple places at once, blending illusion with reality.

Act Breakdown:

The Doppelgänger Illusion

Odessa conjures multiple versions of herself within the mirrors. Each reflection shows her in different poses and expressions, creating the eerie effect that the mirrors hold entire worlds of their own. As she moves, some reflections mimic her, while others seem to act independently, causing the audience to question which version of her is real.

The Shifting Reflection

She steps close to one of the mirrors and reaches through it, pulling her arm back with a transformed appearance—her hair changes color, her outfit shifts, or her face appears subtly altered. She continues to “morph” as she steps in and out of various mirrors, blurring the line between who she truly is and who the reflections make her out to be.

Vanishing Acts

For her grand moment, Odessa moves between the mirrors seamlessly, vanishing into one mirror only to reappear in another at the opposite end of the stage. The effect is ghostly, as if she’s moving through an alternate realm within the glass. This illusion of omnipresence builds tension, making it seem like the mirrors themselves are alive, transporting her instantly across the maze.

Finale: The Mirror Trap

In a climactic end, Odessa steps into the center mirror and splits into multiple doppelgängers through the others, all gazing out at the audience. Suddenly, each mirror shatters in a blinding, shimmering effect, leaving the stage empty as if she has been absorbed into the reflections. A moment later, she reappears from a completely different mirror, bowing as the lights dim, leaving the audience haunted by the unsettling illusion.

[prairiefirewitch]

Because I ate a delicious dinner, flirted with a beekeeper who sold me a jar of my favorite chestnut honey, and had a perfect sip of resinous mastika, I have one more wondrous thing to share before I hit the proverbial hay. This effeminate, frill bedecked, not quite buxom but noticeably fleshy in the chest statue is a representation of Dionysus, in his full gender-fluid glory. The sculptor even rounded the belly out, making it impossible to ignore that this Dionysus is decidedly feminine. The museum had nothing to say about this but we know that Dionysus sometimes presented as less masculine and more feminine and I think it’s profoundly interesting how little ancient writers and chroniclers and playwrights and historians had to say about his gender-fluidity. And by that I mean that they just weren’t bothered by it, so why should we be? And personally as someone who just doesn’t dig the misogyny of many male gods, I’m intrigued and impressed by the way he slips and morphs from god to man, man to beast, man to woman. And who else in the whole Greek pantheon can carry off that kind of ruffle placement? Slay.

[shaymcsudonim]

All these potential bombs are getting defused, so why do I not feel relieved?

I've made this comparison before, but I came to this story expecting another Rosario Plus Vampire. Nothing against that show. I watched at least a few arcs and enjoyed them. ("Know your place" as comedy morphing into "know your place" as "I will protect you" T_T)

But even with Caim Camui, even with Crocell's crush on Iruma, EVEN WITH THE CROSS DRESSING JOKES

...M!K is still an entirely different type of story. Evidenced partly by Caim getting some character development, Crocell being more than a one note character, and the cross dressing shading into gender presentation fluidity.

And, you know, everything positive about the series.

Iruma going from "can't say no spider sense protag" to a guy with a social circle, an ambition, and self confidence... I was not expecting it and, I loved to see it.

And, as my hopes were raised, I started wondering how the climax would play out. There are any number of emotional bombs the author could drop.

Except... the bombs keep getting defused.

Iruma gets revealed as a human to his friends?

Asmodeus and Clara already know he has secrets.

Iruma learns that Narnia wants to murder him and Kirio wants to eat him?

He already knows.

The teachers figure out his identity?

Balam is one of his staunchest allies, and Kalego is going way out of his way to maintain plausible deniability.

So, if none of those are going to be the big emotional moment of the story's climax...

WHAT THE HELL KIND OF PAIN IS WAITING DOWN THE LINE FOR US?