#rich nation entertainment

[dopeboybluez]

#dopeboybluez #darkangelproject #Nubluez #southernsoul #music #atlanticrecords #newmusic #louisiana

[spockandstars]

omg the SNW sneak peak that just dropped is so stupid wtf do you mean you just magically transformed all of the officers into Vulcans and injected them with logic and all of their culture? This is like the equivalent of hitting people with the whiteification beam, and them going “Golly gee, that transformation had a real kick to it! But we’ve got some work to do team, so let’s skedaddle and get this show on the road!” while running off to join HOAs and salivating for marshmallow fruit salad… like let’s be so for real even your 50th percentile fanfic EASILY surpasses this 😭

[kenpiercemedia]

Aerosmith Postpones "Peace Out" Tour For Next 30 Days

The Statement: “I’m heartbroken to say I have received strict doctor’s orders not to sing for the next thirty days. I sustained vocal cord damage during Saturday’s show that led to subsequent bleeding. We’ll need to postpone a few dates so that we can come back and give you the performance you deserve.” – Steven Tyler POSTPONED DATES: Sep 12 – Toronto, ON – Scotiabank Arena Sep 15 – Chicago, IL –…

[lionheartlr]

Exploring Bosnia and Herzegovina: A Comprehensive Travel Guide

A Brief History of Bosnia and Herzegovina Bosnia and Herzegovina, nestled in the heart of the Balkans, has a rich and tumultuous history. The region was part of the Roman Empire and later the Byzantine Empire before becoming the medieval Bosnian Kingdom in the 12th century. The Ottoman Empire took control in the 15th century, influencing the culture and religion of the region significantly. In…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Retiring the US debt would retire the US dollar

THIS WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most consequential series of investigative journalism of this decade was the Propublica series that Jesse Eisinger helmed, in which Eisinger and colleagues analyzed a trove of leaked IRS tax returns for the richest people in America:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

The Secret IRS Files revealed the fact that many of America's oligarchs pay no tax at all. Some of them even get subsidies intended for poor families, like Jeff Bezos, whose tax affairs are so scammy that he was able to claim to be among the working poor and receive a federal Child Tax Credit, a $4,000 gift from the American public to one of the richest men who ever lived:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

As important as the numbers revealed by the Secret IRS Files were, I found the explanations even more interesting. The 99.9999% of us who never make contact with the secretive elite wealth management and tax cheating industry know, in the abstract, that there's something scammy going on in those esoteric cults of wealth accumulation, but we're pretty vague on the details. When I pondered the "tax loopholes" that the rich were exploiting, I pictured, you know, long lists of equations salted with Greek symbols, completely beyond my ken.

But when Propublica's series laid these secret tactics out, I learned that they were incredibly stupid ruses, tricks so thin that the only way they could possibly fool the IRS is if the IRS just didn't give a shit (and they truly didn't – after decades of cuts and attacks, the IRS was far more likely to audit a family earning less than $30k/year than a billionaire).

This has become a somewhat familiar experience. If you read the Panama Papers, the Paradise Papers, Luxleaks, Swissleaks, or any of the other spectacular leaks from the oligarch-industrial complex, you'll have seen the same thing: the rich employ the most tissue-thin ruses, and the tax authorities gobble them up. It's like the tax collectors don't want to fight with these ultrawealthy monsters whose net worth is larger than most nations, and merely require some excuse to allow them to cheat, anything they can scribble in the box explaining why they are worth billions and paying little, or nothing, or even entitled to free public money from programs intended to lift hungry children out of poverty.

It was this experience that fueled my interest in forensic accounting, which led to my bestselling techno-crime-thriller series starring the two-fisted, scambusting forensic accountant Martin Hench, who made his debut in 2022's Red Team Blues:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The double outrage of finding out how badly the powerful are ripping off the rest of us, and how stupid and transparent their accounting tricks are, is at the center of Chokepoint Capitalism, the book about how tech and entertainment companies steal from creative workers (and how to stop them) that Rebecca Giblin and I co-authored, which also came out in 2022:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Now that I've written four novels and a nonfiction book about finance scams, I think I can safely call myself a oligarch ripoff hobbyist. I find this stuff endlessly fascinating, enraging, and, most importantly, energizing. So naturally, when PJ Vogt devoted two episodes of his excellent Search Engine podcast to the subject last week, I gobbled them up:

https://www.searchengine.show/listen/search-engine-1/why-is-it-so-hard-to-tax-billionaires-part-1

I love the way Vogt unpacks complex subjects. Maybe you've had the experience of following a commentator and admiring their knowledge of subjects you're unfamiliar with, only have them cover something you're an expert in and find them making a bunch of errors (this is basically the experience of using an LLM, which can give you authoritative seeming answers when the subject is one you're unfamiliar with, but which reveals itself to be a Bullshit Machine as soon as you ask it about something whose lore you know backwards and forwards).

Well, Vogt has covered many subjects that I am an expert in, and I had the opposite experience, finding that even when he covers my own specialist topics, I still learn something. I don't always agree with him, but always find those disagreements productive in that they make me clarify my own interests. (Full disclosure: I was one of Vogt's experts on his previous podcast, Reply All, talking about the inkjet printerization of everything:)

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/brho54

Vogt's series on taxing billionaires was no exception. His interview subjects (including Eisinger) were very good, and he got into a lot of great detail on the leaker himself, Charles Littlejohn, who plead guilty and was sentenced to five years:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/charles-littlejohn-irs-whistleblower-pro-publica-tax-evasion-prosecution

Vogt also delved into the history of the federal income tax, how it was sold to the American public, and a rather hilarious story of Republican Congressional gamesmanship that backfired spectacularly. I'd never encountered this stuff before and boy was it interesting.

But then Vogt got into the nature of taxation, and its relationship to the federal debt, another subject I've written about extensively, and that's where one of those productive disagreements emerged. Yesterday, I set out to write him a brief note unpacking this objection and ended up writing a giant essay (sorry, PJ!), and this morning I found myself still thinking about it. So I thought, why not clean up the email a little and publish it here?

As much as I enjoyed these episodes, I took serious exception to one – fairly important! – aspect of your analysis: the relationship of taxes to the national debt.

There's two ways of approaching this question, which I think of as akin to classical vs quantum physics. In the orthodox, classical telling, the government taxes us to pay for programs. This is crudely true at 10,000 feet and as a rule of thumb, it's fine in many cases. But on the ground – at the quantum level, in this analogy – the opposite is actually going on.

There is only one source of US dollars: the US Treasury (you can try and make your own dollars, but they'll put you in prison for a long-ass time if they catch you.).

If dollars can only originate with the US government, then it follows that:

a) The US government doesn't need our taxes to get US dollars (for the same reason Apple doesn't need us to redeem our iTunes cards to get more iTunes gift codes);

b) All the dollars in circulation start with spending by the US government (taxes can't be paid until dollars are first spent by their issuer, the US government); and

c) That spending must happen before anyone has been taxed, because the way dollars enter circulation is through spending.

You've probably heard people say, "Government spending isn't like household spending." That is obviously true: households are currency users while governments are currency issuers.

But the implications of this are very interesting.

First, the total dollars in circulation are:

a) All the dollars the government has ever spent into existence funding programs, transferring to the states, and paying its own employees, minus

b) All the dollars that the government has taxed away from us, and subsequently annihilated.

(Because governments spend money into existence and tax money out of existence.)

The net of dollars the government spends in a given year minus the dollars the government taxes out of existence that year is called "the national deficit." The total of all those national deficits is called "the national debt." All the dollars in circulation today are the result of this national debt. If the US government didn't have a debt, there would be no dollars in circulation.

The only way to eliminate the national debt is to tax every dollar in circulation out of existence. Because the national debt is "all the dollars the government has ever spent," minus "all the dollars the government has ever taxed." In accounting terms, "The US deficit is the public's credit."

When billionaires like Warren Buffet tell Jesse Eisinger that he doesn't pay tax because "he thinks his money is better spent on charitable works rather than contributing to an insignificant reduction of the deficit," he is, at best, technically wrong about why we tax, and at worst, he's telling a self-serving lie. The US government doesn't need to eliminate its debt. Doing so would be catastrophic. "Retiring the US debt" is the same thing as "retiring the US dollar."

So if the USG isn't taxing to retire its debts, why does it tax? Because when the USG – or any other currency issuer – creates a token, that token is, on its face, useless. If I offered to sell you some "Corycoins," you would quite rightly say that Corycoins have no value and thus you don't need any of them.

For a token to be liquid – for it to be redeemable for valuable things, like labor, goods and services – there needs to be something that someone desires that can be purchased with that token. Remember when Disney issued "Disney dollars" that you could only spend at Disney theme parks? They traded more or less at face value, even outside of Disney parks, because everyone knew someone who was planning a Disney vacation and could make use of those Disney tokens.

But if you go down to a local carny and play skeeball and win a fistful of tickets, you'll find it hard to trade those with anyone outside of the skeeball counter, especially once you leave the carny. There's two reasons for this:

1) The things you can get at the skeeball counter are pretty crappy so most people don't desire them; and ' 2) Most people aren't planning on visiting the carny, so there's no way for them to redeem the skeeball tickets even if they want the stuff behind the counter (this is also why it's hard to sell your Iranian rials if you bring them back to the US – there's not much you can buy in Iran, and even someone you wanted to buy something there, it's really hard for US citizens to get to Iran).

But when a sovereign currency issuer – one with the power of the law behind it – demands a tax denominated in its own currency, they create demand for that token. Everyone desires USD because almost everyone in the USA has to pay taxes in USD to the government every year, or they will go to prison. That fact is why there is such a liquid market for USD. Far more people want USD to pay their taxes than will ever want Disney dollars to spend on Dole Whips, and even if you are hoping to buy a Dole Whip in Fantasyland, that desire is far less important to you than your desire not to go to prison for dodging your taxes.

Even if you're not paying taxes, you know someone who is. The underlying liquidity of the USD is inextricably tied to taxation, and that's the first reason we tax. By issuing a token – the USD – and then laying on a tax that can only be paid in that token (you cannot pay federal income tax in anything except USD – not crypto, not euros, not rials – only USD), the US government creates demand for that token.

And because the US government is the only source of dollars, the US government can purchase anything that is within its sovereign territory. Anything denominated in US dollars is available to the US government: the labor of every US-residing person, the land and resources in US territory, and the goods produced within the US borders. The US doesn't need to tax us to buy these things (remember, it makes new money by typing numbers into a spreadsheet at the Federal Reserve). But it does tax us, and if the taxes it levies don't equal the spending it's making, it also sells us T-bills to make up the shortfall.

So the US government kinda acts like classical physics is true, that is, like it is a household and thus a currency user, and not a currency issuer. If it spends more than it taxes, it "borrows" (issues T-bills) to make up the difference. Why does it do this? To fight inflation.

The US government has no monetary constraints, it can make as many dollars as it cares to (by typing numbers into a spreadsheet). But the US government is fiscally constrained, because it can only buy things that are denominated in US dollars (this is why it's such a big deal that global oil is priced in USD – it means the US government can buy oil from anywhere, not only the USA, just by typing numbers into a spreadsheet).

The supply of dollars is infinite, but the supply of labor and goods denominated in US dollars is finite, and, what's more, the people inside the USA expect to use that labor and goods for their own needs. If the US government issues so many dollars that it can outbid every private construction company for the labor of electricians, bricklayers, crane drivers, etc, and puts them all to work building federal buildings, there will be no private construction.

Indeed, every time the US government bids against the private sector for anything – labor, resources, land, finished goods – the price of that thing goes up. That's one way to get inflation (and it's why inflation hawks are so horny for slashing government spending – to get government bidders out of the auction for goods, services and labor).

But while the supply of goods for sale in US dollars is finite, it's not fixed. If the US government takes away some of the private sector's productive capacity in order to build interstates, train skilled professionals, treat sick people so they can go to work (or at least not burden their working-age relations), etc, then the supply of goods and services denominated in USD goes up, and that makes more fiscal space, meaning the government and the private sector can both consume more of those goods and services and still not bid against one another, thus creating no inflationary pressure.

Thus, taxes create liquidity for US dollars, but they do something else that's really important: they reduce the spending power of the private sector. If the US only ever spent money into existence and never taxed it out of existence, that would create incredible inflation, because the supply of dollars would go up and up and up, while the supply of goods and services you could buy with dollars would grow much more slowly, because the US government wouldn't have the looming threat of taxes with which to coerce us into doing the work to build highways, care for the sick, or teach people how to be doctors, engineers, etc.

Taxes coercively reduce the purchasing power of the private sector (they're a stick). T-bills do the same thing, but voluntarily (they the carrot).

A T-bill is a bargain offered by the US government: "Voluntarily park your money instead of spending it. That will create fiscal space for us to buy things without bidding against you, because it removes your money from circulation temporarily. That means we, the US government, can buy more stuff and use it to increase the amount of goods and services you can buy with your money when the bond matures, while keeping the supply of dollars and the supply of dollar-denominated stuff in rough equilibrium."

So a bond isn't a debt – it's more like a savings account. When you move money from your checking to your savings, you reduce its liquidity, meaning the bank can treat it as a reserve without worrying quite so much about you spending it. In exchange, the bank gives you some interest, as a carrot.

I know, I know, this is a big-ass wall of text. Congrats if you made it this far! But here's the upshot. We should tax billionaires, because it will reduce their economic power and thus their political power.

But we absolutely don't need to tax billionaires to have nice things. For example: the US government could hire every single unemployed person without creating inflationary pressure on wages, because inflation only happens when the US government tries to buy something that the private sector is also trying to buy, bidding up the price. To be "unemployed" is to have labor that the private sector isn't trying to buy. They're synonyms. By definition, the feds could put every unemployed person to work (say, training one another to be teachers, construction workers, etc – and then going out and taking care of the sick, addressing the housing crisis, etc etc) without buying any labor that the private sector is also trying to buy.

What's even more true than this is that our taxes are not going to reduce the national debt. That guest you had who said, "Even if we tax billionaires, we will never pay off the national debt,"" was 100% right, because the national debt equals all the money in circulation.

Which is why that guest was also very, very wrong when she said, "We will have to tax normal people too in order to pay off the debt." We don't have to pay off the debt. We shouldn't pay off the debt. We can't pay off the debt. Paying off the debt is another way of saying "eliminating the dollar."

Taxation isn't a way for the government to pay for things. Taxation is a way to create demand for US dollars, to convince people to sell goods and services to the US government, and to constrain private sector spending, which creates fiscal space for the US government to buy goods and services without bidding up their prices.

And in a "classical physics" sense, all of the preceding is kinda a way of saying, "Taxes pay for government spending." As a rough approximation, you can think of taxes like this and generally not get into trouble.

But when you start to make policy – when you contemplate when, whether, and how much to tax billionaires – you leave behind the crude, high-level approximation and descend into the nitty-gritty world of things as they are, and you need to jettison the convenience of the easy-to-grasp approximation.

If you're interested in learning more about this, you can tune into this TED Talk by Stephanie Kelton, formerly formerly advisor to the Senate Budget Committee chair, now back teaching and researching econ at University of Missouri at Kansas City:

https://www.ted.com/talks/stephanie_kelton_the_big_myth_of_government_deficits?subtitle=en

Stephanie has written a great book about this, The Deficit Myth:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/14/everybody-poops/#deficit-myth

There's a really good feature length doc about it too, called "Finding the Money":

https://findingmoneyfilm.com/

If you'd like to read more of my own work on this, here's a column I wrote about the nature of currency in light of Web3, crypto, etc:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/21/we-can-have-nice-things/#public-funds-not-taxpayer-dollars

[becgenius]

bolted - sylus x reader

three weeks after you had broken up with sylus, you run into each other at a gala. his issue, however, is the fact that you came with a date. 

!! nsfw, smut, fem!reader, exes to lovers, pwp, 18+

!!! not set in l&ds universe, reader not mc, pet names, cursing, might be angsty idk, jealousy, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, mirror sex, dirty talk, teasing, hair pulling, creampie, unprotected sex, fluff if u squint really hard, lightly proofread

wc. 2.4k

reblogs appreciated!

nsfw under the cut. minors dni

For the months you were dating Sylus, every one of your Friday nights had been reserved. Your own weekly ritual of being dressed in matching designer brands and attending various events: corporate galas, charity balls, and black-tie parties, to name a few. 

For the past three weeks, every one of your Friday nights has been spent alone, completely free of plans. 

Three Fridays have passed since you have shown your face at the social gatherings you so frequently attended. Three Fridays have passed since you officially broke up with Sylus. 

Admittedly not your wisest decision. Sylus was a man of endless wealth, influence, and power. Your own status in society is not at all insignificant; but there is a part of you that still feels inferior.

Because you heard the cruel gossip about your relationship behind your back: whispers of she doesn’t belong here and Sylus would be better off with me. Because you felt as though you were holding him back. Because you were scared that he would be the one to leave first. And though you love him, you left because he deserves someone better. 

But for the first time in three Fridays, you finally allow yourself to regret leaving. You allow yourself to miss your comfortable routine: Sylus buying an entirely new outfit for you to wear, sneaking out of parties together long before they were set to conclude, and ending the night on your couch with whichever takeout meal and show fit your mood that night.

The only reason you have the strength to drag yourself out of your weeks-long slump now is because of the invitation you received not long ago from some gentleman in your network, asking you to accompany him to tonight’s event: a fundraising gala at one of the city’s many national museums.

Of course, you have absolutely no interest in entertaining the man who invited you, you only know for certain that you would see Sylus tonight. 

It doesn’t take long for you to lose your date. As adamant as he was about getting you to go with him, he proved himself to be quite inattentive now that he had gotten your agreement. 

You are by yourself now, in spite of the crowd of event-goers drifting around where you stand in the extravagant ballroom, moving from one conversation to another.

The heels you wear add a few inches to your height. Not enough, however, as you can hardly see over the head of whichever wealthy socialite is in front of you.

You’re embarrassed to acknowledge the growing disappointment brewing in your chest as you fail to spot a familiar head of white hair. 

Never mind the embarrassment of admitting that you are here for Sylus in the first place. You were the one that ended things, after all. What would you even say to him if you do happen to run into one another? Maybe seeing him would be enough. Enough for what? This was a bad idea, you begin to think. 

That is, until you are suddenly very aware of Sylus’ presence. 

It is first the undeniable heat radiating from something, someone, behind you. It’s then the penetrating scent of bourbon and cinnamon invading your senses. Rather, the scent of trouble. 

“Looking for someone, Kitten?” It is finally his rich, husky voice that breaks through the crowd. Your heart skips a beat. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of turning to face him just yet. “I’m not your kitten.”

“Oh? But you are, don’t forget.” His voice becomes dangerous, and his sly hand sneaks itself around your waist from behind, “Done running away from me yet?” 

Sighing, you turn, simultaneously facing him and shifting just enough to make his hand slip away.

“What do you want, Sylus?”

"You've always given me so much attitude.." He ignores your question. If he notices the desperation in your tone, he doesn’t show it. “Are you having fun going about your night with your arm around that moron?”

“He’s not a moron. And yes, I’m having plenty of fun, not that it’s of your concern.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend your date or why you feel the need to lie to Sylus. After all, you weren’t having fun. 

“Lies,” he immediately accuses. “Do not think that I have forgotten what you look like when you are being dishonest with me. Especially when you are doing so in an outfit that I bought you myself.”

The low purr of his voice easily sends shivers down your spine. He had gotten nearer as he spoke, his face now mere inches from your own, his eyes bearing into yours. 

“Everything you do concerns me.” He comes impossibly closer, speaking directly into your ear now. “Besides, anybody here can tell, Sweetie, you are too out of that idiot’s league. Not your wisest decision.”

Sylus is right. No one can miss how your date’s eyes unfocus, zoned out, whenever you speak. Or how he never introduces you when he goes to greet the other party guests. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving his side and blending into the crowd just moments ago. 

“I could say the same for you.” You counter. He pulls back, curious, “you don’t seem all that interested in your date either, and she’s your type, isn’t she.” 

You don’t hide the fact that you’ve seen the various magazine articles and social media posts, all featuring Sylus and the new woman by his side as the main image. She’s obviously gorgeous. And, you discover with a quick web search, is also from an extremely well-off family with much more influence than you could imagine.

Though you hadn’t seen her tonight, you don’t need to be a genius to figure out that Sylus is here with her tonight as well. 

“I have no romantic feelings towards that woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“But you’re still here with her.”

“She isn’t you, you know.”

“I didn’t know that mattered.”

Now it’s his turn to sigh at you. His turn to be the defeated one.

“Come home, Y/n,” his voice nearly begging as he gets straight to the point, “it’s always been you.”

How could you bring yourself to deny him like this?

You don’t know if it was Sylus’ persuasiveness or your own willingness to go back to being his that brought you to where you are now: locked inside one of the museum’s many private restrooms, the noises of music and chatter from the party now a distant murmur. 

You’re also: bent over the bathroom’s sink, thanks to Sylus, with the skirt of your dress hiked up to your waist and your underwear pushed down around your knees.

“Sylus,” you whine, your legs feel weak with each lick he makes to your pussy. 

“Keep still.” He commands, tightening the grip on both of your thighs that both kept you in place aa well as spread out for him. 

“You taste so fucking good, Baby.” He doesn’t move away to speak and the breath from his hot mouth stays directly on your cunt as he does so, the heat eliciting a loud moan from you. 

His tongue fucks into your hole from where he is crouched behind your open legs. The squelch of your arousal on his tongue and your moans fill the quiet atmosphere of the bathroom. 

You feel him chuckle behind you before feeling the cold air hit your wet core at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Y’know, for someone who was just playing so hard to get, you’re really enjoying this aren’t you, Kitten?” He teases, and though he stopped eating you out, his hands keep their position on your thighs, massaging them up and down. 

“Shut up.” You push yourself back so that you were practically sat on his face. He, thankfully, doesn’t object and gives your clit some much needed attention, sucking hard.

You can feel your climax sneaking up on you and so can Sylus, recognizing the way your moans got breathy and the way you clenched around him when he inserts his fingers into you, intensifying the pressure between your thighs. 

He continues sucking your clit, lightly grazing his teeth on your sensitive bud. The stimulation startles you at first, he’s never done this before, but it soon turns into euphoria as the pain mixes with pleasure. 

It all becomes too much for you and your walls finally come crashing down on Sylus’ tongue. He takes you through your orgasm, making it last as long as possible, until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. 

He’s quick to get up on his feet behind you. You immediately come to his understanding and slouch against him, letting him hold up all your weight. 

“Look at us,” he gestures to your reflections in the mirror. You’re a mess: your dress straps cling to your upper arms and your face is covered in bliss. Sylus nonetheless towers tall behind you, annoyingly put together as he always is. “It’s like nothing ever changed between us, hm?” 

You have to agree with him. The sight is not new to you, and you’re overcome with a sense of fondness for all the times you’ve stood like this before. 

On the outside, your physical states are pure opposites. However, you know that right now, Sylus is as aroused as you are. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he has yet to come. 

Still in your post-orgasmic haze, you try your best to reach behind you to where you assume his crotch is. 

“Already can’t get enough, Dear?” He teases you but even so, he moves back and pulls out his dick from his pants, simultaneously guiding your body so you’re bent over in the same position you were previously in and sliding his erection between your folds from behind. 

“Relax. You can take it,” he coos before slamming into your walls without warning. 

“Sylus!” You gasp at the intrusion. It’s a miracle that you even have the effort to scream his name, it was as if all your breath was taken away.

“Still so goddamn tight as I remember, Sweetie, I thought I told you to relax?” He begins to hammer his dick into your pussy, not sparing you and your sensitivity at all. You squeeze your eyes shut, and your moans and yelps with each thrust fill the room.

“Sy, ‘s too much!”

“You can handle it. After all, you wanted this.” His tip finds your g-spot and hits it at that same brutal pace. “Are you still thinking about that asshole that you came here with? Hm? Even as im fucking you like this? Have you forgotten him yet?” 

In the midst of being fucked, it takes you a second to figure out what, or who, he’s talking about. The truth is that you had forgotten all about the other man once you entered the seclusion of the bathroom you are now in. You don’t get a chance to reply before he continues.

“Can he fuck you like I do? Do you think of me when he’s this deep inside of you?”

Your eyes widen at the crudeness of his words. 

“I- never- we don’t-!” You’re quick to deny his accusations, albeit struggling to get the words out between moans. 

“Spit it out, Princess. Are you saying he doesn’t fuck you at all?” His hips smack against yours, hard this time. “Or are you saying that his dick can’t go deep like mine can?”

As he interrogates you, a hand reaches down between your thighs and begins circling your clit. The stimulation is all too much, and you’re still unable to properly speak. 

“Sylus-”

He takes a fistful of your hair and nudges your head up, forcing you to face the incriminating scene reflected in the mirror. “Answer me.”

You watch yourself shake your head rapidly, still being held up from your hair. “No! It’s not like that.. He and I never did it..”

“Oh yeah?” He still has the same smirk from earlier in the night on his face, but now his eyes are shrouded in a devious darkness. “That’s a good girl. If I had found out that he fucked you I might’ve had to kill him.”

He snorts, seeing your shocked expression. “I’m kidding sweetie,” he clarifies. Sylus then lets go of his hold on your hair and your head falls forward with more of his thrusts. “Now keep being my good girl and come for me.”

The exchange is pushed to the back of your mind and you’re reminded of the physical situation that you’re in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your whole body jerks up and down from bouncing back from his. 

You uncontrollably spasm as you cream around Sylus’ dick, squeezing around him just right. Overstimulated, your jaw hangs open as screams burst from your throat. Afterwards, you become fully limp in his hold.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ noisy, huh? You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl..”

You feel the exact moment he reaches his climax. He thrusts himself one last time into your sore cunt before you’re filled with his cum. 

You stay there for a while, neither of you bothering to move. 

After what feels like hours of standing still, Sylus finally pulls out of you. And last moan escapes your lips as he does so. 

He kneels, pulling up your panties from their bunched up state around your ankles to over your sopping hole before any semen could leak out. 

“You think you can keep it inside until we get home?” He asks before leaving a kiss on your clothed cunt and standing to fix your dress, erasing any evidence of your sexual encounter. 

“And when are we getting home, exactly?” You don’t comment on the fact that he said ‘home’ as if it was the same place for you. As if nothing had happened between you two. You don’t comment because you want both of those things to be true. 

“Now.” It isn’t a suggestion, nor a question, but a statement. 

“Wait, you’re not staying until the gala ends?”

“No, Sweetie. We’re not staying until the gala ends.” He laughs as if it’s obvious, “we both know that I could buy out this whole fundraiser if I wanted to.”

“What about our dates?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re my date, and I’m yours.” 

[elodieunderglass]

Dying to know what kind of horses post-retirement/greyuncle Killie would have, other than the Safety Pony. Personalities, origins, why/how Killie chose them etc. Does he allow himself to acknowledge one tiny hint of Sentimentality per horse, perhaps even... Affection?

Also v curious about what eventually becomes of O Holy Thunder. As we all know he is a Rancid Beast whose one redeeming feature is He Go Fast, and his odds of ending up as mince would be high even if he weren't. BUT as we also know, his owner is a Rich Fuck making Rich Fuck decisions for his own entertainment, viz retaining Killie because Killie matches his horrible bastardous land-kelpie, so who even knows? Perhaps O Holy Thunder will enjoy a long and undeservedly peaceful retirement biting the fingers of children who foolishly lean over fences to offer the nice horsey an apple!

(Greyuncle Killie’s pleasant little Shetland pony)

In retirement Killie keeps three horses on the go at any time: the best-behaved and willingest Safety Pony in the world, for X number of great-nieces and great-nephews, where the minimum X is five - no, seven - and the maximum X is maybe 75?; a decent retired Thoroughbred, ex-National Hunt, for himself (this one rotates, but one of them is shown going 👀 here); and a nice, mildly sporty, plushy cob, with the density and sweetness of fruitcake, that is Derek’s Horse.

Did Derek want a horse? No he did not, but consider this: did Killie want dogs? No he did not!!

He always gets handed his off-track thoroughbreds under the table for free, and they’re always slightly broken in some freaky way; but he spent a lot of money on Derek’s Horse.

is this a carefully calculated ice-cold revenge/masterful guilt trip aimed at Derek for filling Killie’s home with so many unwanted dogs? Is it that Killie has genuinely fooled himself into believing that Derek secretly likes going riding with him? Nobody knows for sure.

No idea how he affords any of this.

I’ll leave it up to you, for the moment, how Thunder goes down. It’s by no other hand but Killie’s, when he does, though. And it might not be affection, but it is with love.

[roseupfromthdead]

It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade.

[throwaway-yandere]

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first. 

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence. 

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi: 

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide. 

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend. 

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard. 

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle. 

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life. 

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!” 

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny. 

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared. 

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever. 

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death. 

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word. 

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper. 

Nothing but an empty table. 

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear. 

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.” 

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside. 

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back. 

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened. 

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable. 

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened. 

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does. 

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.” 

You hated it. 

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter. 

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry. 

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself. 

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling. 

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now. 

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr 

[blackstarlineage]

30 Ways Modern-Day Africans Still Exhibit a Colonial Mindset: A Garveyite Analysis

Marcus Garvey’s Pan-Africanist philosophy emphasized self-reliance, cultural pride, and the rejection of colonial influence. However, many Africans today still exhibit behaviours and attitudes rooted in a colonial mindset. Below are 30 examples, explained and analyzed in depth, from a Garveyite perspective:

1-10: Cultural Influence and Identity

1. Preference for European Standards of Beauty

Example: Many Africans prioritize lighter skin, straight hair, and European features over natural Black aesthetics.

Analysis: Skin-lightening creams and the global embrace of Eurocentric beauty ideals reflect internalized inferiority and rejection of African identity.

2. Disdain for African Languages

Example: African children are often discouraged from speaking native languages in favour of English, French, or Portuguese.

Analysis: Linguistic erasure ensures dependency on colonial languages for governance, education, and international relations.

3. Glorification of Western Education

Example: Degrees from European or North American universities are valued more than African ones.

Analysis: This reinforces the notion that African intellectual systems are inferior, perpetuating brain drain and dependency.

4. Adoption of Western Names

Example: Africans often give their children Western names instead of traditional African ones.

Analysis: This signifies a rejection of African heritage in favour of aligning with Western norms.

5. Colonial Religious Practices

Example: Christianity and Islam dominate African spiritual practices, while indigenous beliefs are demonized.

Analysis: Religion was used as a colonial tool to pacify and control, and its dominance reflects ongoing psychological colonization.

6. Rejection of African Fashion

Example: Western suits and dresses are deemed more "professional" than African attire in workplaces.

Analysis: Clothing reflects identity, and the preference for Western styles reinforces the idea that African traditions are primitive.

7. Accent Bias

Example: Africans with European or American accents are viewed as more intelligent or credible.

Analysis: This bias reflects internalized colonial superiority.

8. Neglect of African History

Example: African curricula prioritize European history over African empires like Mali, Songhai, or Great Zimbabwe.

Analysis: This erasure perpetuates ignorance about Africa’s rich heritage and contributions to civilization.

9. Worship of Western Entertainment

Example: Hollywood and European music dominate African media, sidelining local industries.

Analysis: This promotes cultural dependency and undervalues African creativity.

10. Desire to Migrate to the West

Example: Many Africans dream of emigrating to Europe or the U.S. for a "better life."

Analysis: This mindset undermines the potential of building strong nations on the continent.

11-20: Political and Economic Dependence

11. Reliance on Foreign Aid

Example: African governments often depend on Western aid for development projects.

Analysis: This fosters dependency and allows Western nations to control African policies.

12. Colonial Borders

Example: African nations still adhere to arbitrary colonial borders that divide ethnic groups.

Analysis: The refusal to renegotiate these borders reflects a lack of sovereignty and Pan-African unity.

13. Imitation of Western Governance

Example: African governments replicate Western political systems, often failing to adapt them to local contexts.

Analysis: Blind imitation undermines the development of systems rooted in African traditions and needs.

14. Dependence on Western Currencies

Example: The CFA franc, used by West and Central African nations, is controlled by France.

Analysis: This reflects continued economic colonization and inhibits financial independence.

15. Exploitation of Resources by Foreign Corporations

Example: Multinational companies exploit Africa's oil, minerals, and agriculture with little reinvestment.

Analysis: Africans prioritize Western partnerships over local ownership and control.

16. Outsourcing Security to Foreign Powers

Example: French troops stationed in Africa under the guise of fighting terrorism.

Analysis: This reinforces the narrative that Africans can not secure their own nations.

17. Preference for Imported Goods

Example: Imported clothing, food, and technology are seen as superior to local products.

Analysis: This devalues African production and stifles economic growth.

18. Neocolonial Debt Traps

Example: African nations take loans from institutions like the IMF, leading to perpetual debt.

Analysis: These loans come with conditions that undermine sovereignty.

19. Overdependence on Western Technologies

Example: Africa imports most of its technology rather than building local industries.

Analysis: This dependency stifles innovation and economic independence.

20. Election Interference by Western Powers

Example: Western nations influence African elections through funding or propaganda.

Analysis: This undermines democratic processes and reinforces external control.

21-30: Social and Psychological Patterns

21. Black Elitism

Example: Africans educated in the West often look down on those educated locally.

Analysis: This creates divisions within African societies and perpetuates classism.

22. Hostility Toward Pan-Africanism

Example: Resistance to efforts to unify Africa economically or politically.

Analysis: Colonial powers instilled fear of unity to prevent collective strength.

23. Undervaluing African Labour

Example: African workers are underpaid while foreign workers are overpaid for similar roles.

Analysis: This reflects an internalized belief in the superiority of non-African expertise.

24. Neglect of Local Agriculture

Example: African nations import staple foods like rice despite fertile lands.

Analysis: This prioritizes foreign economies over local food sovereignty.

25. Demonization of Traditional Medicine

Example: Preference for Western pharmaceuticals over indigenous remedies.

Analysis: This reflects distrust in African innovation and healing systems.

26. Preference for Colonial Languages in Art and Literature

Example: Writers and artists creating works in English or French to gain Western recognition.

Analysis: This marginalizes African languages and creativity.

27. Inferiority Complex Toward Western Nations

Example: Africans praise Western infrastructure while criticizing their own.

Analysis: This self-perception hinders the belief in African potential.

28. Overlooking the African Diaspora

Example: Africans often ignore the struggles and contributions of African Americans, Caribbeans, etc.

Analysis: Colonial divisions still separate the global African community.

29. Dependence on Colonial Education Systems

Example: African nations still use colonial curricula with minimal African content.

Analysis: Education is a tool of control, and this reflects ongoing intellectual colonization.

30. Hostility Toward Repatriation

Example: Africans discouraging descendants of the enslaved from returning to Africa.

Analysis: This reflects colonial teachings that Africa is undesirable or unworthy.

Garveyite Call to Action:

Marcus Garvey warned against mental colonization and called for:

Reclaiming African identity: Embrace African languages, cultures, and traditions.

Economic independence: Build industries, control resources, and support local economies.

Pan-African unity: Foster solidarity among Africans worldwide.

Rejection of Western validation: Recognize that Africa’s greatness does not depend on foreign approval.

“Liberate the minds of men, and ultimately, you will liberate the bodies of men.” – Marcus Garvey

[horseimagebarn]

https://archive.is/LAwFB <- Here is a link to a 2023 National Geographic article about horse slaughter in the Americas. You might be interested to know that thoroughbreds actually make up only 10% of horses exported for slaughter. The vast majority of retired racehorses in the US and the UK that aren't kept for breeding purposes go on to second careers or are simply kept as companion animals. This is *NOT* to say that the racing industry doesn't have horrific problems, but rather that even when they don't succeed on the racetrack, the horses are still worth more alive than they are as food. Quarter horses, on the other hand...YEESH. Let's just say the Jockey Club keeps meticulous track of how many thoroughbreds are foaled every year. The AQHA...doesn't.

for context this ask is referring to this post i made yesterday

i have much to say on this and ended up just rambling about horse which i love to do when given an intriguing ask so here we go

punctuation and capitalization usage for ease of understanding GO!

sorry if this makes no sense i just went crazy and hate proofreading

Thoroughbreds are not the only racehorse, their racing is just the most popular kind in the States. Quarter horses are actually a bit faster than thoroughbreds, but that makes their races quicker and less entertaining to rich betters. Standardbreds and arabians are also popular racers, but standardbreds are used more in harness racing, and arabians for endurance. 

"Pinhooking" is a popular thing in horse racing. According to horseologyinc.com, "Pinhooking is a fancy term that describes the practice of buying a horse at one stage of development and selling them at the next." This makes it difficult to track every single horse's purchase history, because there are just so many transactions being made. The Jockey Club can track births, sure, and it can do its best to track deaths, but the births of potential successful racehorses are much more interesting to the organization than the deaths of former ones. Even if deaths were monitored with the same vigor, horses would slip through the cracks, and oh brother, they already do. It's impossible to expect an organization that facilitates the often-fatal exploitation of horses to be stalwart advocates of its victims' aftercare. Even if they witnessed the slaughter of thoroughbreds in Canadian slaughterhouses, what's the difference between a horse that died for meat and a horse that died for the entertainment of the bourgeoisie? They both end up dead, and the Jockey Club doesn't deal in dead horses, it deals in eventually dead horses.

Many racehorses are later sold out of the industry once they've served their two potential purposes: racing and breeding. Once a horse is sold to a private owner that isn't involved in the racing industry—including the Amish, who often buy ex-racers as work animals—the Jockey Club's influence, if there is any, can falter. Sure, some are treated with a lavish retirement at Old Friends or Akindale or even Puerto Rico, but many, many horses do not have that privilege. Horses do not have the pull (pun intended) they once did in American society. They are a luxury to most, as their cost of upkeep and maintenance often outweighs their function when compared to machinery that performs similar jobs. Kill buyers—those who buy horses in bulk to export for slaughter—buy horses private owners either cannot or do not want to keep investing in their companion. More often than not, they don't register their purchase of horses for slaughter with the Jockey Club, nor really with anyone, as laws surrounding horse slaughter and export are murky at best and nonexistent at worst. I want to provide you more evidence of this, but the Jockey Club's website keeps timing out for me, so I'll try later.

USA Today estimates that 7500 thoroughbreds are slaughtered for meat each year. When compared to the 57000 total horses slaughtered annually, this resembles the 10% number you gave me. Compare this to the 600 thoroughbreds estimated to die each year in race-related accidents. The racing industry is constantly criticized for its mistreatment of its horses and the deadliness of its sport, and yet, slaughter claims over 12 times the amount of thoroughbreds each year—likely more. I personally believe that it is very unlikely that kill buyers accurately judge the breeds of the horses they slaughter. These buyers process thousands of horses each year and transport them in large quantities. They do not care what breed the horses they process are. It's the meat that matters. Similarly, these kill buyers are not checking the lip of every horse they buy to see if it's a former racer. Some might, if they're looking to "ransom" some of their horses off—sell the horses to non-slaughterhouse buyers for much higher than the ~60 cents/pound they get for their meat—but it's unlikely. Mike McBarron, a long-time kill buyer in Texas, told USA Today Sports, "It’s just a job to me. I mean, I don’t attach myself to them." He went on to say that he has "bought and sold retired racehorses for slaughter [and] sent tens of thousands of horses to slaughter plants," generating "millions of dollars in revenue." To kill buyers like McBarron, these horses are products to be processed and shipped, not beings whose personalities and histories are meant to be known, or whose breeds are significant to their new function: becoming meat.

And this is just thoroughbreds. Quarter horses are the most popular breed of horse in the U.S., and, like you said, there's even less regulation of the sales of other breeds. I just think it's unfair to say that the Jockey Club cares enough about its horses that they don't end up in slaughterhouses.

By the way, I don't think it is morally wrong to eat horses. Cows, pigs, goats, sheep, chickens, and other livestock animals can have just as much personality as your average horse and are not afforded the public outcry horses receive when it comes to their slaughter. Horse lives are not worth more than other "farm" animals just because they are viewed as companion animals while the rest are not. I instead have a problem with the fact that horses used for meat are often severely mistreated, just as they are in the racing industry. Regulations have been put in place to improve the lives of many meat animals, and yet, the government largely shuffles its feet when it comes to regulating the production of horse meat. This encourages kill buyers to do shady business and mistreat their animals, exploiting a loophole in the government's weak implication of a ban on horse meat: in their 2006 budget, U.S. Congress decided to simply forbid the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture) from using taxpayers' money to inspect horse slaughter plants. This sort of banned horse slaughter by preventing horse slaughter plants from being USDA inspected or approved, making them functionally illegal, as they require regulation, but meant that kill buyers could instead simply collect horses and then sell them to slaughterhouses in Mexico and Canada for slaughter. This encourages a shitty, shady business of horse exportation, leading to horrible temporary holding conditions as horses wait to be transported across country borders in equally horrible trucks and trailers. If the industry was legal and faced the same regulations as other types of meat production, these horses would have much better lives. Though I am very aware of the many, many flaws of the meat industry, denying horses even those basic protections that are applied to meat animals, especially large ones like cows, only encourages abuse and mistreatment. Big advancements in animal welfare in the meat industry have been made in the past few decades, and it is not the ethical win many think it is to force horses to live in horrible, barely-legal conditions because it is hard to accept the facts that:

Horses are large, hard-to-care-for animals whose main function in American society has mostly become obsolete 

Even in their current major societal role, racing, they face massive amounts of abuse and mistreatment

There are a LOT of horses in the world (so many, in fact, that they sometimes become pests or invasive species)

Every single horse will not have the privilege of a forever home that can provide for them the utmost care

Some horses can live satisfactory lives as PROPERLY CARED FOR meat animals if given the chance

Horse meat is a valid, valued food source for many people

I know it's crazy for The Horse Blog to say they support horse meat production and consumption, but honestly, I've tried my best to express on this blog that no being is greater than another and all things deserve equal love and appreciation. It would be hypocritical of me to condemn horse meat consumption when I myself eat the meat of cows, pigs, and chickens, who are just as valuable as horses in the grand scheme of the universe. All living things have value that is not contingent on their perceived purpose or use. Meat consumption is a necessity for many in the world, both human and inhuman, and the consumption of meat on its own is not unethical. To live is to consume, be it meat, vegetation, oxygen, water, time, space, etc. and I believe that we should strive not to abhor consumption but do it ethically, in alignment with our world's fragile, functional balance of creation and destruction, and with utmost respect for that which we consume. Horses deserve that respect.

anyway yeah feel free to engage with me on this i like discussing stuff like this and spent way too long thinking and researching and stuff

Sources: "Horses go from racetracks to slaughterhouses: 'It's just a job to me'" by Josh Peter with USA Today

"Horse racing deaths mount as states spend billions to keep tracks alive" by Frank Esposito and Stephen Edelson with USA Today Network

"What is Pinhooking? The History and Practice of Pinhooking." from horseologyinc.com

"Horse Racing Fact Sheet" from fundforhorses.org

ps this wasnt made as an attack on you anon or anything i like to write horse essay style posts sometimes like this and this because its honestly super fun for me and i love receiving these types of asks i am always happy to talk about horse stuff at length like this because i end up learning a lot about these subjects too as i go

[dioslesbianwife]

Here are some jojo villain house headcannons for the TV shows/channels I think jojo villains would enjoy.

••••••••••••••••••••••

Dio

Luxury Living Network: Likes to revel in shows about wealth, power, and decadence. Think Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

National Geographic: Enjoys watching predators hunt their prey. He’d identify with the top of the food chain.

The History Channel (Old School): Enjoys historical conquest stories, especially those about rulers like Julius Caesar or Genghis Khan.

Trashy reality shows on TLC would also be a guilty pleasure. He lives for the dramatic betrayals.

Kars

Animal Planet: Loves learning about the animal kingdom and biology, particularly predator-prey dynamics. He’d judge how far evolution has come since his era.

Discovery Channel: Loves documentaries about science, geology, and life on earth, though he’d scoff at any inaccuracies.

Sci-Fi channel: He’s secretly amused by humans' imagination of evolution and alien life.

Esidisi

Telenovelas/Soap opera Channels: Enjoys dramatic and over-the-top emotions—his own temper tantrums mirror them perfectly.

Wrestling Channels (WWE for example): Finds the combat entertaining and relates to the theatrical aggression.

Wamuu

Sports Channels (ESPN, Olympic Channel): Drawn to competition and strength. He’s especially invested in combat sports like MMA or wrestling.

Military History Channel: Respects the strategies and honor involved in ancient warfare.

Kira

HGTV: Finds peace in watching mundane home improvement or interior design shows, which align with his “quiet” lifestyle.

True Crime channels: Obsessed with watching shows like Forensic Files, hoping to pick up tips on how to avoid getting caught.

Fashion Network: Enjoys looking at high-end clothing.

Diavolo

Old school MTV: Likes the chaotic energy as it aligns with his paranoia.

Crime Networks: Loves anything that teaches him how to cover his tracks and outsmart enemies.

Vogue Network: Secretly enjoys high fashion shows for their eccentric designs (much like his clothing…choices).

Doppio

Cartoons: Despite being an adult, Doppio has a childlike innocence and would gravitate toward shows like The amazing Spiderman, enjoying the light-heartedness,. I think he’d mostly prefer old school shows like Batman the animated series or the old X-men show. Maybe Arthur, Powerpuff girls, Avengers, Clifford, etc.

Cooking Shows (Food Network): Doppio seems like he craves comfort, so watching cooking shows like those holiday baking ones or Master Chef could offer him a sense of warmth and happiness. I think he’d try to show the boss what he learned from them and try to cook simple things.

Pucci

Religious Channels: Watches sermons to draw inspiration. Though I do think he’d strongly dislike the kinds of televangelists that scam vulnerable people.

Discovery/Space Channels: Interested in space and time shows, considering his obsession with Heaven and universal perfection.

Classical Music Channel: Finds focus in orchestral music and opera broadcasts. Probably plays it in the background as he reads or annotates his Bible.

Funny Valentine

News Networks (C-SPAN, BBC): Watches political coverage and speeches to stay informed and critique the current state of governance and the world.

History Channel: Studies historical conflicts and leadership tactics.

Classic Movie Channels: Watches patriotic films or period dramas for inspiration and comfort.

[kenpiercemedia]

Aerosmith Announces "Peace Out" Farewell Tour

Aerosmith Announces "Peace Out" Farewell Tour

The Press Release: Today, four-time GRAMMY® award-winning and diamond-certified rock legends Aerosmith have announced PEACE OUT™ with special guest The Black Crowes. Fans will see one of the most significant American rock bands in history one last time during this not-to-be-missed final tour. Every night will celebrate the five decades of Aerosmith’s groundbreaking hits as they celebrate 50 years…

[crystalflygeo]

two long dragon tongues down your throat is better than one <3

So I was going to answer this like a normal ask just fangirling and screaming yes but then it kinda reminded me of this abandoned wip I had sitting in my docs and IT WAS TOO GOOD TO LET IT PASS.

So sorry this sat on my inbox so long csvajckwxbhaj I promise I am not ignoring :c <3 work is just killing me and also this got out of hand HAHA WHAT A SURPRISE

it was written before 4.2 dropped (maybe before 4.1 even I can't recall) so there are some little things here and there that are technically not canon anymore//hit

Neuvillette is absolutely fascinated.

The chief Justice of Fontaine has lived for many many years, seen, learned and experienced a lot of what the world has to offer, at least within the confines of his beloved hydro nation. Always a diligent man, carrying out his role and job at the court to perfection. Yet there was something he’d always… disregard.

Some more basic instincts pertaining to his true draconic nature.

He’d had enough in his plate as it was, practically managing the nation, keeping lady Furina both entertained and out of trouble, taking care of the Melusine, and a myriad of other duties in between. Truth be told, he was a tired old dragon not having much time or interest in the pursuit of a romantic companion.

So how did he end up here? Having a sample of the most sacred and valuable treasure of another dragon. Their mate.

Neuvillette is mesmerized at how your body reacts, jerking and trembling in unadulterated pleasure. Entranced a how your lips part with labored puffs and cute little sounds he didn’t know humans were capable of. High pitched whines, long drawn-out moans. Hypnotized by your eyes, usually so alert, so smart and playful… now glazed over, clouded with euphoria yet so raw and sincere in their emotions, begging him not to stop.  

And your scent… oh, the most decadent sinful scent he’d ever sensed. His pupils dilating and turning back to slits as his stare focused on your drooling pussy. His mouth dry, his fangs aching. He wanted to drown all of his senses in you.

Darkened fingers slide across your folds, a little colder than normal for a human which is why he’d always wore gloves, but you mewl appreciatively and gladly accept them. Clenching warm and wet around the digits.

And his breath catches.

“Hmmm… you’re doing so well, baobei.”

The Iudex’s eyes flicker momentarily at the other man, or should he say, other dragon. The former Geo Archon Morax, quite literally a mythical figure exuding an aura of power far greater than his current own. He is older, wiser, stronger, a deity once involved in the likes of the Archon war and the Cataclysm. In this little… exchange, Morax is certainly the dominant dragon, simply letting Neuvillette please you.

Morax holds you close to his chest, purring contently in a display of affection towards you and confidence towards the other male, as if he needed not to worry about another taking what is his. Neuvillette knows if he were to even remotely try something funny, he’d likely face the infamous wrath of the rock. Under normal circumstances, he’d find it a little insulting to be treated like this. If he had his full authority…

But these are far from normal circumstances.

And he’s currently rather… ah… enchanted by you.

“Curl your fingers towards you and pump slowly… she likes that.” Morax explains, voice deep and rich like syrup. His hands roam your shoulders and chest, massaging softly at your exposed skin while he plants kisses at your neck, occasionally nibbling of a few past marks from his own fangs.

Neuvillette does as said, experimentally, and is rewarded by a sultry moan and a buck of your hips towards him when you feel those fingers wiggle and rub at a spot deep inside you.

“Oh? Got it on your first try Chief Justice, why you may be a natural.” Morax chuckles.

The younger dragon appreciates the praise underneath the teasing lilt.

“Now, you may use your thumb to rub at that little pearl, it’s just begging for attention.” Your mate nuzzles against your cheek, his own thumbs rolling over your perked nipples. “Slowly, careful… she is very sensitive.” He adds with amusement.

He does so again, the pad of his cool finger brushing over your puffy little nub, the spark of pleasure is immediate and you toss your head back and squeal.

“Please please please…” You gasp out, breath shuddering, body trembling.

Tears gather at your eyes and roll down your cheeks, it’s so much it feels so good.

The younger dragon stops and blinks at you, his demeanor shifting suddenly. His hands slip over your thighs to you hips, as if trying to cradle you, hold you closer.

Morax’s eyes narrow if only a bit, curious but wary of Neuvillette’s sudden… protectiveness over you.

“You’re crying… have I hurt you? Are you ok?” He asks softly, attention solely on you.

Your heart could melt at that, who knew the ever serious and imposing Iudex could be so gentle? He truly reminds you of your mate sometimes.

You nod, catching your breath a moment. “I-I’m good. Feels good.” You mumble, cheeks heating up with the confession. Your body already lays bare and presented for him, in it’s most vulnerable. But to open up your feelings too… “People… cry when they’re happy too, you know?”

He seems to consider it for a moment, you can practically se the cogs turning in his head, it’s rather endearing, his brow twitches the same way Morax’s does when he’s pensive, perhaps it’s a dragon thing? “I have observed that before, yes, but why-”

“Emotions are powerful. When y-you feel… so much… you need a let out. Be it angry, sad, even happy… our tears leak out, like emotions overflowing.” You smile and shift a little, hiding your face towards the crook of your mate’s neck. “Weren’t you the one who said waters carry emotions?” You nuzzle there and Morax responds accordingly, his hands once again massaging and roaming your body, knowing you’re still pent up and the sudden stop was probably a little frustrating.

Golden fingers slide over your folds and sink in carefully, thumb circling your clit once more and you whimper. “That’s it, my love… I want you to feel good. We want you to enjoy, isn’t that right?”

Neuvillette straightens up a little to meet Morax’s gaze. Not challenging (not yet) but there is something.    

“Indeed.” He leans in to nuzzle at the other side of your neck, the soft skin there unmarked. Morax tenses his hold on you, a slight growl coming out from deep within his chest.

“Careful Chief Justice. Remember our agreement.”

“Of course. No kisses, no marks, no claiming. No strings attached.” His lavender eyes a dark purple now as he follows the soft slope of your jaw. “I wouldn’t dare break a contract with the deity that presides over them.” He chuckles. “I just want to test…”

Or rather taste. His draconic tongue laps up softly at your tears, his hands tease your nipples as if trying to get more reactions out of you and you whine, arching towards him as Morax’s hand keeps working at your core.

It’s so… intense. They are both so clear about their desires, slow and reverent, kind in their methods, but so assured in their dominance that they will get what they want.

And oh, to be desired by two dragons truly is something…

“Interesting…” He mumbles pulling back. “So sweet.”

Morax nips at your mating mark then and tilts your head to press your lips together, your mouth happily parts for him and you let out a muffled moan as that long split tongue slides down your throat. Your feet kick and your fingers claw at whatever is closer.

Half-lidded golden eyes stare down at you with satisfaction, blown with lust. A third finger sinking in on your sweet pussy, faster, your juices gushing obscenely around them.

That tongue teases and chokes you and more tears come out of your glazed eyes, eagerly caught by another one. Bodies pressed together, hands roaming, Morax’s tail curled around your ankle keeping you open, Neuvillette’s swaying after him with excitement, cool fingers pinching your nipples, massaging your breasts…

“Mmphff…!” You squeak, high pitched and tense as the pleasure tips you over the edge and your body locks up in a delicious powerful orgasm. You sob and whimper as they work you through it. Shuddering. You see stars. Can’t think only feel.   

Once it settles Morax pulls back and you melt against him, chest heaving, legs weak, muscles aching just a little, they continue to pamper you with affection and attention.

Your mate’s fingers retreat with an embarrassingly wet noise and much to your further mortification he brings them up to his face and that sinful slip tongue once again comes out this time to lick them clean.

Neuvillette stares transfixed.

You groan quietly, it’s obvious what he wants…

Morax on his part only lets out a short laugh, possessive instincts seemingly more at ease now. “Oh? Want to have a taste too? I can assure you will not be disappointed.”

Archons, the way those sharp eyes shift to you.

“O-okay…” Your voice is barely a whisper. “P-please be gentle though I j-just…”

Your breath catches in anticipation as Neuvillette’s hands rest on your inner thighs.

And then your dear mate pulls you back into a kiss.

[mychemicalore]

some notes on the recent announcement; (will edit this later probably)

It has been seventeen years since The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT. In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power, bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE”; a glorious time of stability and abundance in the history of DRAAG. His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve. And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days, their work privilege ceremoniously reinstated, will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade.

okay so 17 years ago was 2007, and exactly 6246 days before today (11.12.24) it was October 7, 2007, which is the date of The Black Parade's final perfomance ever (aka The Black Parade is Dead! in Palacio de los Deportes, Mexico City).

it is implied that after this performance they were "sent to the MOAT", which almost sounds like they were vanished/expelled, because of the "work privilege reinstated" part.

this could mean that The Black Parade was opposing somehow to the Dictator, perhaps even preventing him to step into power, which he manages to do only after The Black Parade is gone.

now, i believe whoever is writing this announcement is a citizen of DRAAG on the Dictator's side, because of the tone and the pronouns use. "OUR rich and storied culture", "a GREAT Dictator", "a GLORIOUS time of STABILITY and ABUNDANCE".

i'm wondering if there's a connection to the Melbourne 03.16.23 show, in which Gerard dressed as the character that appears in the video.. the drums that day said "TERROR" which i think is worth noting as well. maybe it's that character who's writing this?

i have no brain left bull ill keep editing this post to make a more complete "analysis"

[whencyclopedia]

Roman Egypt

The rich lands of Egypt became the property of Rome after the death of Cleopatra VII in 30 BCE, which spelled the end of the Ptolemaic dynasty that had ruled Egypt since the death of Alexander the Great in 323 BCE. After the murder of Gaius Julius Caesar in 44 BCE, the Roman Republic was left in turmoil. Fearing for her life and throne, the young queen joined forces with the Roman commander Mark Antony, but their resounding defeat at the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE brought the adopted son and heir apparent of Caesar, Gaius Julius Octavius (Octavian), to the Egyptian shores. Desperate, Cleopatra chose suicide rather than face the humiliation of capture. According to one historian, she was simply on the wrong side of a power struggle.

Early Relations with Rome

Rome's presence in Egypt actually predated both Julius Caesar and Octavian. The Romans had been involved periodically in Egyptian politics since the days of Ptolemy VI in the 2nd century BCE. The history of Egypt, dating from the ousting of the Persians under Alexander through the reign of the Ptolemys and the arrival of Julius Caesar, saw a nation suffer through conquest, turmoil, and inner strife. The country had survived for decades under the umbrella of a Greek-speaking ruling family. Although a center of culture and intellect, Alexandria was still a Greek city surrounded by non-Greeks. The Ptolemys, with the exception of Cleopatra VII, never traveled outside the city, let alone learn the native tongue. For generations, they married within the family, brother married sister or uncle married niece.

Ptolemy VI served with his mother, Cleopatra I, until her unexpected death in 176 BCE. Despite having serious troubles with a brother who challenged his right to the throne, he began a chaotic rule of his own. During his reign, Egypt was invaded twice between 169 and 164 BCE by the Seleucid king Antiochus IV; the invading army even approached the outskirts of the capital city of Alexandria; however, with the assistance of Rome, Ptolemy VI regained token control. While the next few pharaohs made little if any impact on Egypt, in 88 BCE the young Ptolemy XI succeeded his exiled father, Ptolemy X. After awarding both Egypt and Cyprus to Rome, Ptolemy XI was placed on the throne by the Roman general Cornelius Sulla and ruled with his step-mother Cleopatra Berenice until he murdered her. Ptolemy XI's ill-advised relationship with Rome caused him to be despised by many Alexandrians, and he was therefore expelled in 58 BCE. However, he eventually regained the throne but was only able to remain there through kickbacks and his ties to Rome.

When the Roman commander Pompey was soundly defeated by Caesar in 48 BCE at the Battle of Pharsalus, he sought refuge in Egypt; however, to win the favor of Caesar, Ptolemy VIII killed and beheaded Pompey. When Caesar arrived, the young pharaoh presented him with Pompey's severed head. Caesar reportedly wept, not because he mourned Pompey's death but supposedly had missed the chance of killing the fallen commander himself. Also, according to some sources, in his eyes, it was a disgraceful way to die. Caesar remained in Egypt to procure the throne for Cleopatra as Ptolemy's actions had forced him to side with the queen against her brother. With the defeat of the young Ptolemy, the Ptolemaic kingdom became a Roman client state, but immune to any political interference from the Roman Senate. Visiting Romans were treated well, even 'pampered and entertained' with sightseeing tours down the Nile. Unfortunately, there was no saving one Roman who accidentally killed a cat - sacred by tradition to the Egyptians - he was executed by a mob of Alexandrians.

History and Shakespeare have recounted ad nauseam the sordid love affair between Caesar and Cleopatra; however, his unexpected assassination forced her to seek help in safeguarding her throne. She chose incorrectly; Antony was not the one. His arrogance had brought the ire of Rome. Antony believed Alexandria to be another Rome, even choosing to be buried there next to Cleopatra. Octavian rallied the citizens and Senate against Antony, and when he landed in Egypt, the young commander became the master of the entire Roman army. His victory over Antony and Cleopatra awarded Rome with the richest kingdom along the Mediterranean Sea. His future was guaranteed. The country's overflowing granaries were now the property of Rome; it became the 'breadbasket' of the empire, the 'jewel of the empire's crown.' However, according to one historian, Octavian believed that Egypt was now his own private kingdom, he was the heir of the Ptolemaic dynasty, a pharaoh. Senators were even prohibited from visiting Egypt without permission.

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