#sacrilegious project

[sacrivn]

ooohh kastiel post ooohhh

[cykiloc]

New Video Out Now!!

It is about how me and Parasite @sacrivn think our OCs would be headcanoned if we had fandoms.

[moth-apocalypse]

I'm so conflicted I have a writing project I really wanna do... but I'm worried I'll abandon my current writing thing if I do... sobs. The consequences of Too Many Ideas.

[mvncesa]

dare I say … that eskel would be julian’s favorite in any sort of witcher verse

[sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe]

hey shitbag

Feeling good in your fingernails? Do they fit the caps of your hands? Congratulations, I’m happy everything fits the way it’s supposed to, month late returns are a hassle on both ends of the phone line.

I’m very tired, but I wanted to say hello from either side of the mirror I should’ve thrown out years ago, but now it’s been hanging off my septum so long i wouldn’t know what to do without it. What’s the turnaround time for a lie you forgot you were telling? 

Regardless, I hope January hasn’t been treating you too unkindly, and that my weird little brain worms dance in a way that make yours go, ‘What the fuck are they doing, get back in containment dickheads, the floor supervisor’s gonna notice.’

The last few months have been somewhat hectic, and coming out the other side of the cosmos blender always leaves my center of gravity somewhere against my ears. I’ve been shaking it down to somewhere reasonable, I’m thinking my right lung, but the interim always leaves doubt and half-measures gumming up the helix gears. 

Making art about making art is, not too niche, but feels like the worst child of self-congratulations and impostor syndrome, and that’s ground I’ve already spilled the kool-aid on but… Dripping candle wax onto parchment paper about the physical ways it affects you, from mistreating your hands to mistreating your sleep, your food intake, the emotional stakes of picking up a fountain pen and expressing yourself regardless of vagary, obfuscation, and letting anyone see it.

It’s one thing to be insulted online, but the stakes feel higher because oh, god, what if they’re right?

And even that feels too open, it’s not a cyclical argument, it’s just compounded into itself, and maybe this is the wrong fear to have, consider our range of soul eating anxieties, ‘cause the center of the tootsie-pop is only downhill from here—

And sometimes, you idiots are the nicest people my art’s ever seen, you’re certainly kinder to it than I am, and when a stranger, someone who has no reason to give me half a second of their day gives up a minute, or three, or five, just to read something I wrote! 

Well. Nobody plays games just to see the end credits.

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Good Turn

I rushed to catch up, as I saw the party leaving. Advisor Leukippos was a hopelessly busy man after all. Seeming to drift, with elegant unhurried steps, from appointment to appointment at a somehow impossible speed. It was near impossible to actually catch him NOT in the middle of something. And believe me, I'd been TRYING!

"Advisor! Respected One! Please wait!" I did not so much... shout (as that would be RUDE. One must NEVER be RUDE around the Yanderians. They take GREAT exception. I've looked them up. Have even started taking classes on the subject.) as sorta? Pitched my voice to carry? Kinda the verbal equivalent of that awkward half jog, not run, people do.

My Yanderian pronunciation is god awful. Probably butchering the words, since I can't, you know, actually HEAR any of the nuanced under or over tones. The slight inflections. Yanderian is a language of SONG. Poetry. Composing some of the most beautiful audible art in the known universe. Some of the pieces I've heard? Are like whale song made of starlight. Birdsong made of thunder.

And that's the RECORDINGS! Which are said to miss SO MUCH of the in person nuances, due to technological limitations!

I, being a human, literally don't have the philosophy to even speak the language properly. Never will.

Not the voice box, not the HEARING, and certainly not the lung capacity. But I wanted to at least try, you know? If nothing else, maybe learn the language. There WERE after all, auditory aids for Yanderians with ear injuries. And! I theoretically? Could contact the company? To see if they would be willing to design a set of nuance readers for a human sized head! Adjusted for human hearing and visual ranges!

To be honest? I just was waiting to be able to send my message in Yanderian first. To prove that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Nuance readers were a time consuming project after all! Had to be customized to the life form wearing them.

Leukippos and his entourage had stopped, turned. Some fully, some only half way, to glance in bemused and startled confusion at the (no doubt strange) little creature trying to hacksaw her way through a sentence in their language. None the less, they DID stop for me, for which I was grateful. Their people were fuckin TALL, man. Long legs. Holy SHIT long legs. G-gimme a second! Gotta...! Breathe...!

I could practically feel their amusement from behind the assorted fans. Eyes curving up to match hidden grins.

"No drink to spill upon me, little one? How shall I recognize you now?" Comes teasing song speech from the man I've been trying, for DAYS, to catch outside of any one of his many responsibilities. I think? That particular rumbling quality? Means "playfully said, not insulting you?"

His body language certainly suggests it.

The laugh that forces its way out of my body? Is the sort that you make, while contemplating throwing yourself into the fucking SEA or a bottomless pit, after dumping your breakfast on like... a world leader.

Because I Basically DID.

Which? Ha ha... oh god, kill me. They wear FUCKING WHITE. The higher the rank? The MORE WHITE! (It's the color of Divinity and Honor! Which DOESNT FUCKING HELP! Oh GOD, does this mean what I did was SACRILEGIOUS TOO?!) Nothing but pale, easily and irreversibly stain-able colors, as far as the eye can see! And I accidentally? Dumped my shitty break room "whatever has caffeine and is still in stock" on him!

FIVE TIMES.

I've literally GIVEN UP open air caffeinated drinks because of this! They are the devil! Evil! Trying to ruin both my sanity AND my life! I don't CARE if canned coffee is more expensive! At least I can't DUMP IT ON A DIGNITARY.

The worst part? The ABSOLUTE WORST? Was how understanding and calm Leukippos was, while I lost my shit. It wasn't even MY outfit. He was the one covered in probably still burning coffee! As I hyperventilated and blubbered apologies and cried at him. Hair a mess! Sleep deprived as FUCK because my boss is an asshole. Well... WAS an asshole.

He came over to yell at me.

Did not go well for him. What with that being Rude™ and me having already spilled the beans that the whole incident was CAUSED by me being overworked. Sleep deprivation slows reaction times, you know?

But then... but THEN! It? Kept?? HAPPENING!!!

Turn a corner? Bump! Right down his front. Leaving a lift? Bump! Splash! There goes my cup! Oh but what about a SAFETY cup? I, like FOOL, naively think! Ha ha...

I nearly concuss him! Somehow! Right over the edge of some railing! Slams into the ground at his feet. Nearly hitting him from THREE STORIES UP, right on the head! Pretty sure the sound I made? Was just as painful to HEAR as it was to rip out of my own throat in panic.

No More Cups! Cups are BAD. This? Anti-cup having household.

We'll drink from fucking SPOONS if we have too! Bowls!

NO CUPS!

And every? Single?? Time??? Leukippos not only stops, in the middle of his unspeakably busy schedule, to calm down and reassure this random ass low ranking alien, who's dumped potentially toxic or dangerous unknown alien foodstuffs, just ALL over his incredibly expensive clothes? He's KIND about it! Polite! Makes light hearted little jokes and says not to worry!

It would be one thing, if he was an asshole about it? But!? He's so politely understanding instead? You just end up standing there. Staring in HORROR. At the slowly spreading stains, on that beautiful, delicate, lovely embroidered white fabric. Clothes that are HAND CRAFTED. Take months if not YEARS to make!!! And you just? Feel your soul... die inside.

Kill me. Fucking END me. I deserve it.

Oh my god.... What Have I Done?

But, hey! If he wants to turn my Horrifying Drink Based Trauma Crimes into a cute friendship meet cute? I'm so unbelievably down for that. Literally ANYTHING so I stop feeling like I'm constantly setting this man's ceremonial robes on fire in front of him, then having him ask if I'M okay or need anything.

Speaking of which? Excitedly I reach into my messages bag, asking if he remembers the over robe he lent me. Another victim to our coffee attacks, the over robe was of a style that traditionally hung open, so it only slightly got hit. His main robe suffering the worst of it. Most importantly, though? The over robe is the main decorative one! Heavy on the subtle off white on white embroidery.

It creates a kind of magical looking effect as the light hits it, it's hard to explain.

But! I got coffee'd too, right? Right down my front! So what does he do? Leukippos slides off his over robe and puts it on me. So I won't be walking around in state that would get me socially embarrassed. Cause a scandal. Still not sure if it's a Yanderian or a "their region of the galaxy" thing.

However, that? Left me with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL and quickly staining white over robe. Not Today, Satan! So I looked up how to save it. Rushed it to a professional cleaners. They kept it from getting worse but couldn't help me, due to the unique fibers the robe was made off, but knew who COULD and sent me on my way.

I ended up in a breathing mask in little Kkbrixxtttishky. And I know, okay? It's mostly oxygen in that dome. Yeah, it IS, but there are enough fatally toxic trace elements in the atmosphere that unless you have a REALLY good filter mask? It's just safer to go full breathing mask. It's not fucking "paranoid" or "racist" or whatever garbage they'll tell you.

Half those fuckers saying that? Wouldn't even TRAVEL there if their LIVES depended on it! For ALL sorts of VERY reasonable excuses, I'm SURE. Bastards. One breathing mask and an uncomfortable decontamination shower between domes is all it takes! It's barely a few minutes delay between domes. Then you're in!

And? The whole area is beautiful. Everyone is super nice, deeply kind (especially when you get lost... like... A LOT). And oh my god? Do you know how badly I wish I could eat the food without, you know, dying? (God those little pie thingies looked so fucking GOOD...)

Anyway! Long and short of it? The Kkbrixxtttishky cleaner knew how to clean the robe! Even stored it in an air tight container so it could be decontaminated for my safe handling. They? Were so sympathetic? Shared my absolute horror at the situation. We're and ARE an absolute gem. Swear to God I plan to recommend them to anyone who can breathe that grade of atmosphere.

It was worth every unit.

Pulling out a clean, neatly folded robe to return? Feels like a triumph.

"The robe of which I gave you, clean once more." He says, recognizing it on sight. The smile behind his fan seems to grow, from what charmed expression I can see of his face, as he steps closer. "Such care, in trusted hands, this robe has found. Little one, you have gone to great lengths. No easy thing, the cleansing of such cloth. And to return it? None would think you less, should you have kept a gift..."

The songspeech has a distinctly warm tone to it, more then the already fond tone that had been there before. Heck yeah~ Knew it! I KNEW I did the right thing! And besides, it WAS the right thing. I tell him as much. He didn't really GIVE me his robe, he leant me it to help me save face.

The Galactic Senate is unspeakably vast. He was running the risk of never seeing it again but did it ANYWAY. Just so I wouldn't be seen walking around covered in a mess. I was just sorry I couldn't fix the OTHER robes my clumsiness had ruined.

"Virtuous little one~" Leukippos says sings, the nuanced tones, which I could only barely hear, suggesting his words were meant to be both teasing and praise. He driftes closer. His other hand elegantly raising to join the first. Both gripping his fan in an... almost coy sort of way? Ah, I'm probably reading that one wrong. Still learning, after all...

"Won't you join me? A walk with good company, is a pleasant one indeed. I have not had chance to speech casually with you before. We would have sent you correspondence; In accordance with tradition and regard, however..."

Leukippos trailed off. Politely not saying the obvious. Which was that it was fuckin impossible to find me in the G.S. directory, since I was effectively a Nobody, and you'd have to know Going IN which Embassy I worked for. Even then, it'd be rough as hell, dragging me name out of that thing. I was the afterthought of an afterthought, that the forgettable once might of had.

But hey, it pays the bills.

I grin. Of course, I'd love to join him. If I'm not getting in the way! The robe is handed off to one of the smiling members of the entourage. Tucked away somewhere. And I am swallowed into the center of the group. Holy SHIT, they are tall. Like? I knew that. On average? Yanderians were about a foot and a half taller then humans... but STILL? I think these guys might be tall for Yanderians? I feel dainty. Wild.

Leukippos helps with my pronunciation, as we walk. Recommends a few new up and coming artists who's works sound fascinating. Distracted by it all, I don't notice our path meandering away from what I know is his next appointment, and towards his office. At least, I don't until we're alone.

His fan lower gently from his face, revealing handsome features.

I startle, don't know where to look. Uuuuuuuh?! No, wait, what!? No. See, I REMEMBER my basics of Yanderian etiquette block, from the sociology lessons I'm taking. He's not allowed to DO that! He can't DO THAT! Illegal! Naked! Why is he FACE NAKED!? That's like taking your SHIRT OFF! Fine around close friends and family. But JUST around them! ONLY them.

Going 0 to 150 REAL FAST, my guy!

Sputtering, I spin around. I saw NOTHING. Sexy lil fangs WHOMS'T? Ha ha! Jawline whaaaat? No, no! I'm actually BLIND. As of just a bit ago! Terrible, really. Should probably see a doctor! Now actually! Yeah. Now sounds good. I'm just gonna-!!

Softly, elegantly, like a dancer's pose, an arm in billowing white reaches over my should to delicately press against the door. It's the old fashioned kind. Swinging, not slide, made of wood. Must of cost more then I make in a year. The hand presses one finger at a time, a precise little sequence of tap tap tap.

Each finger accompanied by the softest sound of sharp nail tips.

I am suddenly hyperaware. H..How did he move that-?

The friendly atmosphere, the comfort, seems to have been sucked out of the room as thoroughly as an open airlock straight to the void. I am alone with a man I do not... now that I think about it... actually know. I FELT like I knew him. We keep meeting. I've been learning about his people. But do I know HIM? Personally? The nature of HIS character?

I... I do not.

And he is a very, VERY powerful man.

My eyes are locked on the hand, gently holding the door shut. I haven't tried my strength against his. Yet. But the numbers are in my head. The odds. Cold sweat prickles and beads along my skin, my breathe shallow, as I stand utterly frozen. It's a beautifully manicured hand, I note. Strong wrist, there a hint of true muscle, under all those robes.

He smells of trees and musk, spices and flowers not native to earth. The sleeve flowing over my shoulder is dangerously soft. His existence a pillar of heat, right behind me, not touching... but close enough. He seems perfectly content to wait me out. My mind is static.

"We fall in love quite easily, did you know? Oh little one..." His words are sighed confession, sung like falling leaves. Another hand comes up, on the other side of me. "My people greatest folly. Our weakness, our despair. Oh little one, we love too much. It frightens people. How quickly and deeply we fall..."

Why was he telling me that? I... I know the most obvious reason why he MIGHT be. B-but surely not! Ha ha. No way. C-can't be! So Why Is He TELLING ME THAT?!

"Courtship requires planning of course. Research. 'Meet-Cutes' I believe they are titled? Did you enjoy them? Were they proper? I'm to take you on outings next, yes? Flowers and material goods. To prove I can provide and know you well, and ah~"

There was mouth pressed to the nape of my neck, breathing deep against my skin. I could feel the almost lazy hunter's grin, splitting those lips into a smirk. Sharp teeth and hot breathe, dangerously close and already lusting to leave behind marks.

"And I DO know you so well. I have made certain of that, my little one. Dearest little one. Jewel of my heart, soon to be keeper of my name. I will court you in your ways, then I will court you in mine. Our wedding will be beautiful."

My heart was racing. I had to get out of here. Go and never, EVER come back. Oh god, at this distance? There was no WAY he couldn't hear everything. I had to lie! Do something! Anything! Just get out of this room. Back to Earth's embassy!

I... I couldn't move. Afraid. I was afraid.

He's so big. So much stronger then me. I have to get out.

"You shall such peace and love on Yanderia, darling. The other partners will rejoice for a new friend and you will be welcomed. Isn't that lovely? There is so much we do not show outsiders. But you, little one?"

"You will have the rest of your life to learn it ALL~"

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Cranking up the heat - Part 23 (+interlude)!

the boys needed a break, but that doesn't mean you do: that's right! TWO new chapters are waiting for you down below, written by the lovely @ukcalico!

He flexes his wings and feels a jolt of demonic energy crackle through them, latent power unfurling, striking him pleasantly between the shoulder-blades. His skin prickles as the energy washes through him, a feeling not unlike the warm shudder that follows knocking back a decent swig of single malt. A sacrilegious act, Aziraphale would call that.  Try this for a sacrilegious act...

tagging @goodomensafterdark

[witheredoffherwitch]

I'm gonna get roasted for this, but it's hilarious how some fans are acting like George R. R. Martin is some fragile flower that needs to be protected from the sacrilegious beats running their favourite dragon show. He's literally a co-producer who has his hands all over this project. He probably gets a private screening of each episode while we peasants have to wait for airing - and let's not forget, he's making bank off of this multi-million dollar project just like everyone else involved.

But of course, the book purists are the ones throwing fits over the changes while the regular viewers, by all accounts, seem to be loving it!

[muffinlance]

Related Work: Branded by jordanpotato

Summary:

Agni saves Zuko's life at 13 when his father attempts to murder him in a sacrilegious Agni Kai. She thanks him for his defense of his people with a gift that doubles as a curse, branded into his shoulder, a sort of protection whose powers, at 13, he does not fully realise. That same year, rumours begin to stir in Earth Kingdom ports, of the now-banished Fire Prince and his crew who seem to never burn. Zuko thinks he just keeps getting lucky. Hakoda, at least briefly, thinks so, too. It would have been less of a headache for everyone involved if that's what he'd continued to believe. [PODFIC AVAILABLE]

[kari-sims]

Jay and his future DnD friends (pt. 1/8)

Mika: Sup Jay, ready to meet the squad? Actually, what the heck are you wearing? Jay: A mando outfit? Mika: Dude, no helmet? And where's Grogu? Jay: I uh… didn't have enough money for that, okay? :( Mika: Just so you know, we have some hardcore fans that will think this is pretty sacrilegious. It was nice knowing you!

another little cas project i started some time ago, and now i have another massive place to build for a bunch of sims to live, yay! Anyways, I'll be adding a little intro for each of them cause i think it's kinda fun. They'll be in the shape of small dialogues with Mika, a fellow mischief enthusiast Jay met while trolling the forums, and who invited him to join a dnd party :)

[sacrivn]

I'm gonna nibble on Cy

That is all

- Cyanides #1 fan ★

“as long as you don’t mind a couple nibbles back! that hip is looking awfully bare…”

[nrdmssgs]

König x tattoo artist reader

Masterlist

This started as a headcannon, but has grown into a brief scenario. There is a bit a of pet play happening down there, but i've tried to keep it light

Once he found out about your job, there is no way back. Man practically begs you to show him any new thing, you're working on. Congratulations, you've got your biggest fan from now on.

In Königs` opinion, not only was he lucky enough to get the best person out there, he was the luckiest one to see how your ideas are born! And he LIVES for that moments.

He sees your projects as something, that should be displayed in a museum.

Yes, Louvre, he is looking at you. It's high time you open new rooms for his Schatzs`* works to be displayed in!

"König, I thought, I threw out that sketch. C`mon, man, it's garbage, nobody needs it!"

"Nein! I'm keeping it! It's mine from now on!"

Secretly keeps a whole pile of scraps of paper, crumpled sheets, napkins you threw away while sketching.

He is interested in your entire creative process: from the first sketches to photo sessions with healed works. Bombards you with questions. "Is there any differences in a result if you draw two same sketches with a pencil and a thin brush?", "What do you like to tattoo the most?", "Where do you draw inspiration from?".

He brings albums with views of the nearest cities and just books with beautiful photographs and reproductions from every airport and train station when he travels (which is really often).

If you had not a huge library of inspirational sources before meeting him... you better buy a few new bookcases.

He never considered getting inked, especially not by you, no... To put your masterpiece on his calloused and scarred skin would be a sacrilegious act. No, he can't even dare to think of it...

Until one day, when he is sitting at your tattoo studio, minding his own business waiting for the end of your working day, like a good boy, when an old customer of yours arrives. You greet them warmly, give them a hug. And you say this one phrase, which is an old and silly joke between you and that customer...

"C`mon, lets get you marked." You say and take the customer to your room.

At this moment, something clicks in Koenig's head.

He tries not to think about it for the next few weeks, but fails. Because when you put it that way... To be marked as yours by your divine art, to wear that traces of your touch for eternity... His heart flips every time this idea reappears in his head.

You notice that lately he is often lost in his thoughts, and a light blush touches his cheeks.

So one of these times, you're having breakfast and can't help but notice that look on his face. "Koenig, are you alright? You look... lost."

"Oh?", he shudders. "No-no, I'm fine, just thinking..."

After some persuasion, you manage to draw out an indistinct "How much do you think it will cost ... to get a tattoo at your place?" out of him.

"It depends on which artist you have in mind... but you know, there are some perks in dating one." And before he is able to process that, you add, "I'm not taking your money, love. Tell me, what was on your mind, what you wanted to see on you?"

His answer was ready long ago. "Anything! As long as it's yours. Anything you could leave on me."

You try to get anything more specific, but he is really happy for any piece, that will remind him constantly, that you are not a figment of his imagination, that you exist, and you want him by your side.

You decide to start with something small, so that he can always cover that, if he feels like it.

Later that week you flip the pages of your album, that you are using just for ideas for his body (as the professional you would never try to convince him to get inked, the decision must be fully his, but nobody can stop you from fantasizing, how could you decorate that gorgeous body of his) in your studio, as he comes.

"Hi there, love. Haven't changed your mind?" you greet and embrace him. He is so excited, he almost shakes. "Nein, Schatz! I would never." he answers, pulling you in a tighter embrace.

So far he is your most trusting and content client. You barely make him look at the sketch after you made its copy on his arm. He wanted the reveal to be a surprise for him after you finish the whole tattoo, but you refused to proceed with the main process without obtaining his consent to this particular idea.

But when he sees the sketch on his skin, the man is speechless. Yes, you were always so very gifted in his eyes, but this... So simple, yet this idea is exactly, what he's been dreaming of. Two words superimposed on each other. Curves of letters, merging into the most intimate sounds that have ever flown from your lips ...

Good thing, he isn't afraid of blood, and has a pretty high pain threshold. So he sits there absolutely still, admiring every second of you working on him.

He is almost afraid to move, he desperately tries to calm his rushing heart down. What you do to him right now is sacred and divine to König. You are leaving your mark and you are not to be interrupted in any way.

So even when a little sweat drop slides down his temple, he doesn't flinch.

You notice it and decide to give the man a break. You give him a towel, pour a glass of water and ask him if it hurts. He tries to answer, but his voice is raspy because of dry throat.

"I-I... khhhmm, I'm fine. Go on, please!"

It's when your gaze slips down his body and you notice it. He enjoys it, he painfully enjoys it.

That's when you put your machine away and lean closer to him.

"I see, someone is having a good time...", you whisper, putting your hand oh sooo close to his hardness. "Looks like a pet just wants to be branded so badly."

Königs face grows bright red. He tries to mask the fever burning under his skin, to not disturb your work, but it is impossible, when you are so close, and you have him completely at your mercy. Your hand is almost touching him. Almost, but not yet. He looks away, embarrassed, aroused, panting. Silently praying for your mercy.

You grin. Poor thing is desperate for your touch in any way. "Now you be good and let me finish this work, ok?"

König nods quickly and covers his erection with the free arm.

"Did I let you hide yourself, pet?" you seem to look in the other direction, but notice his notion and correct him in a flash.

"You will sit here still as I work, you will look at me, and you won't cover yourself unless you're said so", you purr as you continue working.

When you are done, the man is a mess. He is breathless, he can only mumble and curse under his breath. You wipe off blood trails from a fresh tattoo on his arm and lean away to appreciate the result.

It's nothing really fancy, but it is a good start, if he ever decides, he wants more ink (he already has, believe me).

"You like it, love?"

Königs eyes are completely transfixed on your work. He slowly looks up at you. "Schatz... am I dreaming? This is ideal. H-how can I?"

You cut him off: "You'll thank me by caring right for it. No rubbing, no swimming, no touching the bandage till I let you... and no extensive physical activity for you for today. I'll bring you the lotion this evening, so be good and wait for me at home."

He looks at you with the most obedient eyes and just silently nods.

"One last thing." You go behind him, he is still sitting in the chair. You lean towards his ear and whisper, "Don't you dare touch yourself without me. Furthermore, you sit and wait for me." Your hand slides down his torso and his breath hitches. "This is all mine, pet. And now you have a constant reminder of that." 

*Schatz - treasure

[letmebeyn]

Enhypen FF Masterlist:

I Beg, Save Me (Heeseung) - bad boy assigned community service, good girl church core, corruption

The Dollhouse (Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Heeseung) - UNHINGED, they’re just dolls… or are they?

Gods & Monsters (Heeseung, Sunghoon) - stepbros & europe, loser hee, mean hoon

Melting Point (Sunghoon) - your brother's ice skating rival

The Sun that Always Burns (Jake ft. Heeseung) - high school ex gets married, emotional, i cried

Frenzy (Jake) - UNHINGED, musty stalker jake

Player Rank: Platinum (Heeseung) - sister’s bf is gamer and wants you

Eat Me Up (Jay, Jake) - UNHINGED, jay makes deal with devil & takes over jake’s body

Locked in Library (Sunghoon) - locked in library storage room imagine

To the Boy: Who was my Rival (Jay) - he’s your university rival also v rich, based off to all the boys series

Never Have I Ever (Jay) - i haven't read this yet

Homes not Home (Jay) - also haven't read yet so will summarize once I'm done

Just the Tip (Jake) - locker room quickie, best friend's brother

Mine or Yours? (Heeseung) - UNHINGED, your stepbro likes you more than his gf and she likes to watch

Desecration (Jake) - v sacrilegious, jake is priest's son but not so innocent, you are a little brat

Serial Sweetheart (Jake, Sunghoon) - i need to read

The Switch Project (Jake) - i need to read

Skin to Skin (Jake) - you corrupt church boy jakey and run away ig

The Hunt is On (Heeseung, Sunghoon) - serial killer Ghostface at university

Cross the Line (Heeseung, Sunghoon) - UNHINGED, alphas in heat, stuck in an escape room lol

[honeyandsalted]

I guess I’m making art of my own fanfiction now?

A little doodle of a scene from chapter 11 of the fic in which there is a flashback to a young Alicent meeting Syrax for the first time.

———

“Dragons are incredibly empathetic creatures. They often will share the same feelings as their rider.”

“Oh.”

Alicent felt herself flush a little. Rhaenyra was watching her.

“Do you want to try touching her?”

Alicent looked at her incredulously.

“What? No! Isn’t it considered sacrilegious for common folk to touch a dragon?”

Rhaenyra shook her head, rolling her eyes a little.

“That’s just a rule someone made up to keep fools from getting their arms bitten off.”

“I don’t want to get my arm bitten off, Rhaenyra!” Alicent hissed. Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow.

“Well you aren’t a fool, are you?”

“What if I am? How could I know—,”

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, stopping her anxious rambling. “I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Alicent might have kept arguing but she was distracted from that when Rhaenyra stepped behind her, close, so close they were pressed against each other. She wrapped an arm Alicent’s waist. With her other hand, she laced her fingers through Alicent’s.

“Ynot, Syrax! Demas! Lykiri!” [Come to me, Syrax. Sit. Be calm]. “Be calm,” she said again, this time for Alicent, who let out a shaky breath.

Carefully, Rhaenyra guided Alicent’s hand to touch Syrax’s forehead. Alicent squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath hitched.

———

Here’s a link to the fic^

[telelli-writes]

new chapter posted of my tomarry time-travel AU! the fic features: tom riddle’s third-person limited POV (if you like your narrators unreliable and sadistically bitchy, come ‘n git it), a 1940s setting, and a frankly sacrilegious amount of biblical imagery (i read paradise lost and made it everyone else’s problem).

this chapter features: gleeful descriptions of blood loss, hogwarts needing to reset the sign that proudly displays how many days since the last child was gravely injured while trying to get an education, and a devil getting what it loves best: a deal.

[blackbird5154]

Should we consider Meliora as a criticism of Infestissumam, and Prequelle as a criticism of Meliora?

In some interviews Tobias said that all three albums are interconnected. Infesti is about the Antichrist's march on earth, it has a lot of mocking, sacrilegious songs. In a way it's a statement about the renunciation of faith.

Meliora describes a world where the abandonment of God has become the basis of existence. Mankind builds the world on rational foundations, but is ruined by its own ambitions; Icarus falls, trapped by his own enthusiasm.

Prequelle describes how God returns to the world and brings punishment; the triumph of death. In the end, we return to where we started. Cycle. You know, everything is cyclical.

A project of humanity that is doomed to fall under its own weight over and over again.