#so not exactly a screenshot edit

[dingoat]

Thirteen and Ahuska, ripping apart some Star Fortresses together.

[stardust-moth]

In order to fully understand why it was so hard for Mike to express how deeply he loves El, and why his speech at the end of season 4 was one of the biggest, most important moments for his entire character, we need to look at not just who Mike is as a person, but also everything that has happened since he met her.

Every single time he opens up his heart to her, something horrible happens to her or she's taken away from him almost immediately afterwards.

1x08; he's an awkward little ball of feelings that are way too big for a boy so young. He makes a nervous attempt at confessing and asking her out on a date; when he can't find words that she'll understand, swoops in for a kiss instead. She lights up immediately and smiles. It's a brief moment of hope and pure happiness. Maybe they can have some semblance of a normal life and be normal kids after this is all over.

Minutes later, all hell breaks loose-- they're almost shot, El pushes herself too far until she can barely move, she's almost taken away by the Bad Men, the Demogorgon appears, and she uses the very last of her strength to sacrifice herself to save him and their friends.

He has to watch helplessly as she disappears.

He spends a year caught between believing she's dead and hoping she's still out there somewhere (but if she is alive then why won't she talk to him anymore...?). Kept silent under threat by the lab, he can't confide in anyone or even acknowledge her existence, not with anyone except those involved... but everyone else is keen on moving on and pretending it never happened. He can find some solidarity in Will, at least, who is in a similar kind of emotional turmoil... but it's not the same and it's not enough.

2x9; he is finally reunited with El, and she runs into his arms like she missed him too. She tells him that all those nights he called out to her, she heard him; she was there reciprocating his feelings the whole time.

In a burst of emotions that he's been forced to suppress for an entire year, he lashes out at the reason they've been kept apart (Hopper), screaming and sobbing. It's a massive catharsis for him, and for once an adult is understanding enough to hold him and not punish him for it.

Minutes later, she is going to go headfirst into a pit of monsters, the place where Mike had just firsthand witnessed dozens of people (if not more) get ripped to shreds only hours earlier, and she is going to attempt to close the Gate-- a feat that he knows may take every ounce of her power, just like last time. He cries. He can't lose her again. She promises he won't, and before she can seal that promise with a kiss, they're pulled apart again.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

3x1; all seems to be okay now. He and El are happily together, and he feels comfortable enough to be playful, romantic, and intimate with her. It's the most emotionally open we've ever seen Mike thus far.

For reasons he can't understand (bc there's no way Hopper explained himself beyond "I'm in charge so do as I say or else"), Hopper is angry about it and threatens to never allow him to see her again: the one thing he fears most.

He panics big time and fucks it up in the process by lying to her. During a frantic attempt to apologize while also abiding by Hopper's rules, he runs into her at the mall. He panics again-- if anyone finds her here, and knows that he was here too, it's all over, and Hopper surely won't hear reason. El dumps him cold on the spot, spurred on by Max and her rebellious attitude (and without any context of course). He isn't given much opportunity to respond. He knows he's in the wrong for lying to her, so what could he even say...?

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

It's a hard blow, and he retreats back into himself, unable to get any joy out of playing D&D (which he clearly hasn't lost interest in), back to the deadpan sarcasm and accidentally snapping a little too harshly at anyone whom he feels would take El's place.

3x6; no one seems to understand the danger El is putting herself in. Everyone is berating him for worrying about her safety. He's seen firsthand what these monsters do to people, he's seen firsthand how El pushes her abilities too far. No one is listening.

The words "I love her and I can't lose her again" burst out in his desperation, perhaps before he's even had a chance to realize how deep those feelings run, despite whatever protective walls he's tried to build around his heart to keep it from getting broken again.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose. El is nearly killed several times over, her leg is ripped open, she pushes herself so hard that she breaks herself and loses her powers completely. Her father is taken from her. She's shattered by all of this, and there's absolutely nothing he could do or say to make it better.

She tells him that when he admitted he loves her, she heard him, and indeed she loves him, too... But now she's leaving.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x1; they've been apart for a few months, and write letters back and forth to each other. El's letters paint a picture of an ideal new life: she and the Byers family are doing well; she's starting school and it's going well; she's made new friends, she likes her new home, everything is going well. She seems to be thriving. She sounds happy, maybe even happier than she had been living in Hawkins. Maybe Max was right, maybe she's better off being her own person without him, and maybe the respectful thing to do is step back... It's a small insecurity that creeps up subconsciously. In his replies he holds back, afraid of clinging too hard.

Though there's little logic in it, he's afraid that if he tells her he loves her again, another disaster might strike and this lovely happy life she's finally found might get taken from her. After all, that's what always seems to happen when he does.

4x2; after months of waiting, they can finally see each other again. He wears her favorite colors, picks a handful of flowers for her, and falls happily back into step with how they used to be. Soon that same day, however, reality becomes clear and the facade crumbles. People he was told were her friends show up to torment and publicly humiliate her. She had been lying. She isn't happy here, she hasn't healed, she is right at the edge of a breaking point that he doesn't see coming at all. He can't believe she would lie to him, she's not the kind of person to lie... especially not about something like bullying, something that she was always so understanding about with him.

On that logicless subconscious level, he wonders if it's all his fault-- he should have known somehow, he should have been there for her. She protected him from his bullies, he should have protected her from hers. He tries to come to her rescue. She runs away from him.

He's helpless to save her, again.

4x3; after a night to process everything that happened-- and deciding that the betrayal he feels from her lying to him is nothing compared to the turmoil she must be going through right now-- Mike approaches her in the gentlest way possible, wanting to listen and trying to understand. El, however, isn't receptive at all to his attempts at reassurance. She is at an all-time low, she's given up. She believes she is unlovable, irredeemable, a monster, just a thing that doesn't even have those superhuman abilities to compensate anymore. Mike can't believe what he's hearing-- doesn't she know that she's always been so much more than her powers? She's always been so much more than what she lacks in quote-unquote "normalcy"... None of those things matter, they have absolutely no bearing on whether she's worthy of being loved, because he loves her, completely regardless of any of these things. He always has...

El starts flinging his restrained words back at him, the products of his insecurity and trauma-induced fear. That fear takes hold yet again, and he stumbles, afraid of saying too much or not enough, because surely both could result in pushing her away-- she's retreating, hearing none of it; nothing he tries to say consoles her.

Moments later, local police come knocking. She's taken away in cuffs, and she's so broken inside that she won't even look at him when he chases the police car down the street and promises he'll get her out somehow...

Once again, he has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x8/4x9; after days of driving through the heat and dryness of southwest desert, having narrowly escaped being shot at with military-grade assault rifles, witnessing the death of and burying a man whose last words were that El is in danger... After watching dozens of people get mowed down by a sniper in a helicopter, and watching that same helicopter be smashed into the ground in a ball of flames...

There she is. Just as powerful and beautiful and alive as she's ever been. When he runs to her and embraces her, she looks at him like she can't believe he's real. She's beaming a smile right from her soul and it's like all the insecurity and self-doubt that have plagued them both just vanish from existence now that they're in each other's arms again.

Like always, however, the universe comes crashing down soon after. Max is marked for a gruesome death and all of Hawkins is in danger. They're miles away and helpless, and the only possible way for El to save everyone is if she goes in alone. She's stronger than ever, but so is her foe. Once again, she descends to face all the demons of hell on her own, and Mike can't do anything.

She's losing. She's choking. She's dying. He's helpless.

He must be cursed. He must be. Being with her, loving her, allowing himself to admit he loves her, it always brings only pain and suffering and loss. His heart is so full that it's aching, it's bursting out of his chest, and he can't contain it any longer.

She's going to die and it's going to be all his fault, because he fell in love, and it's cursed her.

Just before it all crumbles into utter despair, the earnest support from his oldest and dearest friend-- one who's always shared and understood his feelings of helplessness-- sparks a light of hope in him: "You're the Heart." You're not helpless. You can save her.

The words that come spilling out of Mike's mouth are truer than any he's ever dared to speak before, and it's the most terrified he's ever been, but he has enough courage for this moment. Despite all of the fears that have been building, stifling, choking him to death for years-- fears that the light of his life will inevitably disappear again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it-- despite it all, he pours out his heart to her.

He loves her. He's always loved her. He loves everything she ever was, is, and could be. He can't imagine a world without her in it. She saved him, in every way a person can be saved. And he needs her to live. He believes in her.

And it works. It's music to her ears.

[azems-familiar]

them <3

[mntcoronet]

just need to ramble for a moment about a game. vaguely. real ones know what I'm on about (no one ask I'm embarrassed abt playing it and having fun)

[liaprime]

I said I want to talk more about the things I'm working on, so here goes!

Currently, I'm diligently working on designing Marr's office. Because a member of the Dark Council needs a big office with lots of loyal servants!

It's based on the Dromund Kaas stronghold, logically - but for whatever reason my brain decided to change the layout a little - meaning it has nothing to do with the original layout haha because that's too mundane for a Dark Councillor tsk xD

So I'm working on two things: reworking the map so it fits with the layout in my head and remodelling and decorating the rooms in the actual stronghold.

It can be unnerving but it's also a lot of fun!

[saikkunen]

Anyway I started replaying Control

[clearlyaginger]

wait people are actually paying for spotify I thought that was a joke

[airenyah]

apparently i can't seem to keep my mouth shut so here i go rambling about acting again...

so i was watching some behind the scenes from hidden agenda and there's this one point from when they were filming the biking scene from the practice date in the park and joong makes fun of dunk for not holding onto him properly and then dunk discusses with staff how exactly he's supposed to hold joong/joke (from 2:45 on)

and there's this one thing that dunk explains afterwards (min 3:37) that delights me a lot in particular and it's this:

because YES!! he's right!!!!

it delights me to hear him say this because growing up my mom would often point out acting things to me and especially since the start of the pandemic we've done a lot of analyzing and this thing about the hands that dunk is talking about here is actually something my mom has mentioned to me before on multiple occasions when we were talking about body language in acting

in fact, i remember this one moment in particular from a year ago: we were watching the eclipse together as it aired and towards the end of the series (ep 9?? or 10 maybe????) there was this one point during an akkayan scene where my mom suddenly pointed at khaotung and went "he looks tense". and i was so confused because the boys were lying in bed in that scene, they were lying down and i was like "how the FUCK do you even see that????"

and so over the rest of the episode (and the following ones) my mom started to look out for scenes where that tension she was referring to was easier to see so that she could explain to me how she could tell. she did find a scene and i was like "ohhh ok yeah i think i get it"

and then the final episode dropped and we were watching it together as usual when suddenly my mom hits pause and goes "do you see it?"

and i immediately knew she was referring to the curled up fingers:

in fact, i had watched the ep without subs for thai practice before watching it together with her and even by myself i'd already noticed that (and i knew my mom would say something about it lmao)

and the issue with khao's hands in this scene is exactly what dunk is saying in the hidden agenda behind the scenes clip from above. khao is touching first's waist only with the tips of his fingers and it looks tentative, as if he doesn't quite dare to maximize the physical touch by using his entire hand to hold first

and that isn't to say as an actor you are forbidden from ever curling your fingers like that! however, everything you do in front of the camera (or on stage) needs to be on purpose. so if you're curling up your fingers when holding onto your colleague? well, it should be a conscious decision that you've taken in order to tell the audience a particular thing regarding the story/the character(s)/the relationship between the characters/etc

and here in the eclipse those curled fingers look strange because here we are basically at the end. we're in the final episode, more than halfway through the final part of the episode (part 4/4, min 9:04 out of 14mins to be exact). at this point the characters have been through a lot together, they've gone through character development, after a long, tumultuous story ayan and akk are finally on the same page as akk is finally comfortable with and open about his feelings for aye. so aye looking like he's afraid to touch akk just feels completely off at this point in the story (esp considering that in the story ayan is the one who is open and unapologetic about his feelings and his wants)

anyway, this is just something i was reminded of when i was watching the behind the scenes of hidden agenda and dunk brought up the hand issue. and i just always get really excited when i watch interviews and especially behind the scenes videos and the actors mention/talk about/explain something that i was taught myself

(also, disclaimer just in case: i don't mean to say that khaotung is a bad actor bc we all know that's not the case. it's just, that particular moment is off for the reasons that i've explained above. and it's somehow relieving to know that even pros don't necessarily nail every single second of their screen time kdjffdkjgf)

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[wiishopwednesday]

longing for something you can never return to

[ID: a collection of images relating to nostalgia. the first image is a genius screenshot of the lyrics to car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)." the screenshot reads "We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back." the second image is the "we got the torture labyrinth tomorrow" meme template, edited to instead say "We got missing what we can never return to tomorrow/What?/We got the beginning of the rest of our lives tomorrow/Ohhhh/Okay." the third image is a discord screenshot, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and reads "Duuudeee you missed out on those 7 days where god created earth you are fucked LOL." the fourth image is a screenshot of a piece of text, which reads in bolder font "You can never leave home." underneath it, in normal text, it reads "You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." the fifth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user ryebreadgf, which reads "YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN BITE AND SCRATCH AND BEG BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK!" the sixth image is a screenshot of a piece of text that reads, "YOU KILL YOURSELF AND IMMEDIATELY WAKE UP AS A CHILD ON YOUR PARENTS BED. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE SUN IS SHINING." the seventh image is a picture of two uneven dark yellow boxed next to each other on a off-white background. the first box reads, in handwriting, "I'm terrified of change." the second box reads, "I'm terrified of staying this way forever." the eighth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user dakotajohnsongf, which reads "women be looking at pictures of their childhood selves and trying to find a way back to them." the ninth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user bestofgentleearth, containing a screenshot from a forum of some kind. a line of text reads "(16 hours ago) butterfly said:" underneath, an indented section of text reads "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer." the tenth image is another tumblr post by user cursedsuggestion, which reads "the friend you miss comes home for good. you never see another mirror. it's summer forever and that terrible thought you keep having finally disappears." the eleventh image is a screenshot of a reddit post, with the original poster's username and icon cropped out so only the text is visible. it reads "I'm not sure how to word this, but I constantly go through this deep sense of loss. I feel like I terribly miss something I love from the bottom of my heart, but I don't know what it is, exactly. Nothing in life satisfies me, nothing makes me content, but l wouldn't say I'm depressed either. There's just this endless search for something, and at times I feel I can catch a glimpse of it - different sceneries pop into my head at times, like of a particular beach at night, and I'm moved to tears. Or I remember a dream and all the feelings that were stirring while I saw that dream, and feel entirely connected to them." the twelfth image is a screenshot of a tumblr post, but the original poster is cropped out so only the text is visible, which reads "wait i wasn't ready. i never finished that game of tag. i still need to learn how to do a cartwheel. my friends and i never finished making that bridge over the creek. i want to go back. can you carry me to bed one last time? and maybe i'll wake up tomorrow in my childhood room with my pink walls and we'll laugh over this dream at breakfast." the thirteenth image is another tumblr screenshot of a post by user heavensghost, which reads "uhhh yh sure u can go back but no one will be waiting for you there."

the fourteenth image is a screenshot of a reddit comment, with the user's information cropped out so that only the text is visible, which reads "HIRAETH (heer-eye-th) 'A deep homesickness; an intense form of longing or nostalgia for a place long gone, or even an unaccountable homesickness for a place you have never visited. A pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.'" the fifteenth image is a collection of 3 rows of black boxes, with 3 boxes in each row. the first box has a white, vague form of a human. the second box pictures the human form stretching its arms and legs out. from the third box onward, the human figure starts to dissipate into white dots until it has completely disappeared and only dots remain. the sixteenth image is a tumblr post by user n1ntendos, which reads "I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!!! anyways." the seventeenth image is a screenshot of text that reads "I cling to everything - CDs that skip, rings that turn my fingers green, the dead ends of my hair, old love notes that turn my stomach over and over. And I'm not proud but there are still boxes under my bed. And I'm not proud but my closet is still running out of space. And nostalgia is a fucking waste of time but my heart is full with it. Tell me I won't hold this forever. Tell me there will be a day where I let gloriously go." the eighteenth image is an image of larger text that reads "It's a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world." the nineteenth image is a photograph of a large white dog standing in a dark, flowing river surrounded by a dark forest and green trees. the dog is facing away from the viewer with its mouth open. the dog appears to be glowing, likely due to a lens flare of some kind. the entire picture feels very melancholy and nostalgic. the twentieth image is larger text that reads "Nostalgia is the aching realization that you can't go back again. The longing, no matter how intense, can never be met." the twenty-first image is a screenshot of an instagram dm, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and it reads "well the time passes anyway so I have to." the twenty-second image is a screenshot of the spotify lyrics for gerard way's song "action cat." the lyrics read "Hey/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you too." the twenty-third image is a screenshot of text that reads "YOUR CHILDHOOD DOG IS ALIVE. YOUR DEAD BEST FRIEND WANTS TO GET COFFEE. YOU HAVE BEEN KIND AND GOOD. THERE IS NOTHING CHASING YOU. YOU CAN SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO?" the twenty-fourth image is a continuation of the lyrics from car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)" that were pictured in the first image. these lyrics read "We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/(Don't spend too much time on it)." end ID.]

[neptunesenceladus]

nearly a year later

how many times can I make Tim die at the hands of his friends/kinda family before it goes past angst to just being ridiculous

[windslar]

After releasing my first collection of UI-ish templates and widgets, I found myself making more during the process of editing my posts. I'd planned on keeping this one around the same size as the previous one, but the longer it took me to properly label and organize my layers, the more I added to the file. So now we're here at like 40-ish templates (and a few even have a hidden version).

[CLICK FOR BIGGER!]

Like my previous collection, I designed this to be a "workspace" or "canvas" from which you can just pull whatever template you need. Each template is labeled and organized into folders so you'll know exactly which layers you need for your screenshot.

Tips on how to use these can be found in the original post as well as this google doc tutorial .

Font used is Helvetihand TS4 icons - L'Universims, TheSimKid, deathbypufferfish, w-sims, Tutorial on how to extract icons

TOU: Feel free to use and edit as you wish but please don't reupload and claim as your own. If someone asks where they're from, please link to this post.

DOWNLOAD FOLDER (SFS)

Windslar Collection 2.0 (91.5mb) If you prefer a less overwhelming version, I also divided this file into two parts. You can find it (as well as the first PSD collection) in the download folder.

[fakezircon]

It's Done!

Three months of work from start to finish! All so I could finally present to the world:

Pocket, Minecraft Edition:

Some standard rambles and fun progress images under the cut :)

So, I started this project in early August, mostly as something I could do during downtime of a then upcoming trip.

I had seen some absolutely amazing art pieces by @royalnaym which kinda gave me the idea that minecraft rendered in pixel art has a pretty interesting while still very recognizable look. At the same time I came across @groupcritpowerdynamics 's speedrun pastel pieces and those really inspired me to try depicting my favourite game in one of my favourite mediums!

In the middle of August 6th, while in the middle of packing for my trip to the UK, I decided I wanted to do this and I wanted to have it to work on during the trip, so I loaded up minecraft and went looking for a screenshot worthy of immortalization. Unfortunately I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for so I made a brand new world and started looking around for the right vibes.

I knew I wanted a lone tree, and that if I ended up including the hot bar I wanted some hearts and food missing, so after running around for a few minutes I decided I would just do it myself and planted a sapling to serve as my centrepiece.

I gotta say I think the resemblance is striking!

And now as promised, the progress gif: mind the slight flashing, I did take these in all manner of different places including but not limited to: a plane, a handful of buses, and a small inn on the shores of England (not in that order).

It's pretty neat to me that you can see how different tones of lighting affect the perceived colour of the thread, I definitely noticed it more on this piece verses other larger stitch projects.

[hiveswap]

Summary of The Cat of The Year poll atrocities of 2023/2024

I'm sure that most people on this side of tumblr have seen the Jellie vs. Nefarious Anglerfish poll going around with like 60k votes at this point, and I'd really like clear up some of what happened since I was around for the whole thing.

Url blocked out for op's privacy. They have already left but don't look for it if you haven't seen it/don't harrass them if you already have.

1. The previous round (preparation)

I discovered the poll in its previous round, needless to say she beat Jort's ass severely. This was around the 3rd of january, meaning that this round finished before jellie's passing with only about 7k votes. Op did add their own piece of propaganda from their main:

...which was FINE. (except for stuff we'll see later) Of course running a poll while biased isn't ideal but I for one didn't even know they were the op until much later. I also added my own piece in a separate thread, and they didn't interact with it at all. There was no drama.

2. The Finale

Jellie unfortunately passed away right before the starting of this poll, which was the catalyst for what happened next. Op did exactly as last time and added a slightly more mean spirited encouragement to vote for the other contestant. This is the point where I believe that i fucked up personally.

I added this thinkpiece accusing op of associating all mcyters with Dream (who we all hate for the record) despite them not alluding to him at all. This is because tumblr has a history of disimissing all mcyters as... everything that dream was been accused of. Op did allude to not caring for mcyt. but they didn't say what i accused them of. This is important to point out because this reblog of mine is still being spread. Jellie was in the lead at the time, but not by the time i woke up next morning.

I won't be including anyone else's additions because I don't want to put blame on any specific person. Just felt like clearing up mine.

3. The Fuckening

Some time later op made this post to their personal blog:

which is insanely shitty because, as other people have pointed out, the "lame ass youtube cat" didn't die to inconvinience op or ruin their fun, and people would have probably voted for her anyway because jelly is universally beloved in the mcyt community. This isn't anti democratic. This post was added to the poll with a caption saying op should not be running this poll, and it took off. Op later went on to say that this was a joke:

This apology was not taken well by people, (including me) because "you were not meant to see it" isn't an apology and they still very much made fun of someone's pet dying. Safe to say this did not make the drama stop and only added fuel to the flame. I believe this was the point where the conversation of mcyt fans being unjustly sent hate to was reignited.

We should discuss that! it's a real thing that happens often and is equal to childish bullying. However, in this case, OP was the only one getting sent hate to my knowledge. The notes were mostly saturated by mcyt fans, and even now i can only find one or two hateful stance towards us under the whole 20k notes post.

4. Conclusions

Op posted a second apology to the catoftheyear blog to try and calm people down (i believe this is comprehensive and a lot better than the previous one) The blog was deactivated shortly after, so i only have my phone screenshots of it that i also added to the poll itself at some point:

(Edit) Here's proof that op did not write the justification they got criticised for, from the notes of the original poll:

This apology didn't get seen, or get accepted by enough people, so op made this statement on their personal:

Needless to say I am deeply dissapointed (and guilty) that it's come to this. Yes, op said tasteless things that made us all angry, but telling a human being to commit suicide is worse than being insensitive about a stranger's pet dying. Even after I posted about the blog being decatived i had someone come into my notes to wish that "they never find happiness" i mean wtf. This isn't like shipping where we can do whatever without the content creator's input. this is fucking harrowing and i can't imagine how i'd feel if this was done in my/my pet's name especially after losing them as recently as a week ago.

I hope no one from hermitcraft who is on here (let alone scar holy shit) learns about this like they did with previous lighthearted tournaments. If you truly respect the creators you claim to be a fan of as people, you do not tell people to kill themselves over them. And finally, let Jellie fucking rest, guys. she had a long, good life. I hope op can come back and also avoids behaving like this if they ever wish to do so. I'm angrier at mcytblr, though.

[badscienceman]

I saw someone ask what "I hope this hurts" means beyond the obvious, and I started to respond only for it to turn into an essay... Because I don't feel like dumping something so long in some unsuspecting person's notifs, I'm just going to post it here instead.

I started writing this after playing the game, but ended up watching a playthrough because I couldn't remember exactly where "I hope this hurts" was repeated. I think I caught the only few times it was mentioned, but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something, so feel free to correct me on that or anything else I might have gotten wrong.

Spoilers for the full game and CWs for everything you would expect from discussing Mouthwashing apply.

Edited 10/16/2024 for clarity and some minor issues with formatting. I added sections in hopes of making it more readable, as well as a few more screenshots that I hope will support my points better. *Indicates where I made potentially significant additions to my original analysis.

Part One: Jimmy

Jimmy is someone who has a delicate ego. This means that he's very concerned with how he's perceived by those around him. We see this in how he responds to Curly and the news of the company's closure, which he takes it as a personal attack in spite of it very clearly having nothing to do with him on a personal level.

For people like Jimmy, a threat to one's image (whether it's a matter of their perception of themselves or, maybe worse, the perception others have of them) brings intense emotional pain. Even though it's clear that Curly meant no personal offense, and likely saw more good in Jimmy than was actually there, Jimmy sees this as a great threat to his own image, and thus identity.

To be clear, it's not just that Jimmy thinks Curly is looking down on him. It's also that Jimmy needs his role in the company to maintain his image, and he needs to eventually become captain. This is his ultimate goal because the respect and control that someone like Curly has, in Jimmy's mind, is tied to the title he possesses. And Jimmy wants that. He wants respect, he wants to be listened to, he wants power over others. (This is also why Swansea's final speech is so important, in relation to the belief that if one just reaches this next goal, they might feel a little more human, a little more in control, a little more fulfilled, but as Swansea shows us, that's just not the case. And it's true for Jimmy, too. Jimmy isn't magically fulfilled by obtaining the title of captain.)

But in the beginning, Jimmy has yet to realize that just getting the role of captain won't magically make him a man who is respected, or even a man who is truly in control. He sees no opportunities for himself on earth. The only option is to stay in this company and become a little lord of his own ship... and suddenly that's ripped out from under him. He will never reach the goal he's been chasing for all of this time.

Anya telling him about her pregnancy is the final push he needs to go over the edge.

Part Two: Captain

Returning to the initial reveal that the company is shutting down for a second, I think it's important to keep in mind a few things:

1. The importance of the title of captain in Jimmy's mind.

2. How this extends to his perception of Curly, him being the current captain.

3. Jimmy's self-centeredness preventing him from understanding the feelings and perceptions of those around him.

When Curly says what he does, Jimmy immediately jumps to the conclusion that Curly sees himself as above everyone else (and most importantly, as above Jimmy), to the point of considering them "dirt." I don't think Jimmy is just projecting his greatest fear (being seen as lesser) onto Curly. I think he's projecting his own perceptions.

He's placed all of this importance on the title of captain, and thus Curly. The captain is above Jimmy. Jimmy is beneath him, is lesser. And we know how Jimmy treats those he sees as lesser (first Anya, and then the rest of the crew once he's captain, *manipulating Daisuke into putting his life at risk because Daisuke, who is just an intern after all, just isn't important to Jimmy being an example).

I think this is a fair reading because Jimmy does something similar with Swansea when he insists that Swansea is keeping the last cryostasis pod for himself. I understand some might say that this is just Jimmy's attempt to manipulate Daisuke and Jimmy doesn't actually believe it, which is a fair interpretation, but I sincerely think he believes what he's saying in this instance. And I think that because Jimmy sees selfishness as common sense. It's what he would do were he in Swansea's position, and what makes him giving the pod to Curly significant.

Part Three: Anya

So, Jimmy is already hurt and panicking. He sees his chance at power and thus fulfillment slipping away. And then Anya tells him that she's pregnant.

Anya, who he has shown time and time again that he thinks little of.

Anya, who he clearly sees as beneath him.

Any mention of the pregnancy, no matter how gently it was worded, would immediately feel like a threat to him on multiple levels. And not only that, but a threat from someone lesser than him. His image, his status, his control, his power—it's already slipping from his fingertips. *It's happening right then, in that moment. It's not just a potential future where he's held accountable in a real way (maybe if Anya involved authorities, or if Jimmy was legally responsible for supporting a child once they returned to earth). It's happening now, because his image is crumbling.

For this reason, I believe I hope this hurts to be directed at anyone and everyone that he sees as "threatening" him.

Anya and Curly have made him hurt. He wants to make them hurt.

He doesn't care about Daisuke and Swansea. If anything, he's so caught up in himself and this contorted vision of reality, I wouldn't be shocked if he convinced himself in the moment that they, too, were looking down on him for some reason. (See again, "I know what everyone is thinking. The way they look at me." Obviously this is said in the midst of his spiral, after the crash, but I wouldn't doubt the paranoia was there before that moment.)

He wants to make them hurt as they've hurt him. He may also want to make himself hurt in order to vent out his emotional pain. If not, death may simply be the easiest way to escape pain and the threat the future holds in his mind.

*Part Four: Without the Guilt

In addition to all of this, I think crashing the ship (making them hurt) is his vision of what Curly has done or is doing to him. This is how he "leave(s) the dirt behind."

To understand this, I'm going to include the birthday conversation and the conversation between Jimmy and Curly about crashing the ship.

Jimmy: ... So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt. Curly: Jim... If I had known... Jimmy: I can go back to my, how'd you put it? "Struggle of a life?" Jimmy: Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real. Jimmy: And how many employment years Swansea got left in him? Jimmy: Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least. Jimmy: But you. Headed for bigger and better, right? Curly: I'm just... I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape! That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor- Jimmy: We're the ones you're trying to escape! Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean! Curly: That's not what I meant. Jimmy: It is what you meant. Jimmy: You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. Jimmy: Abandon the crew but remain the model captain.

To me, this is one of the most important and revealing sections of the game. Jimmy is not only projecting onto Curly, he's telling us exactly what he's going to go on to do (or attempt to do) when he becomes captain.

In addition to this, we see his manipulation on full display as he twists Curly's words and won't allow him even a moment to truly speak beyond a few lines he manages to get in between Jimmy's ranting.

That's not to mention we see the beginning of yet another pattern in Jimmy's behavior: getting a person to admit their weakness, then using it against them and/or using it to hurt them (he does this with Daisuke, for example, when he hears Daisuke's fears/desire for approval and proceeds to use it to get Daisuke in the vent). Here, Curly speaks about feeling trapped. Jimmy will soon trap him in a crashed ship just as much as he traps him in his own body, which Jimmy will proceed to drug. But I'll return to that.

Curly: Jim. I can fix this. Jimmy: What do you think will happen when we get back? Hm? Curly: We can figure all of this out. You and me. Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy: All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God, it's so annoying. Jimmy: But, now... What do you think will happen now when we get back? Curly: We'll fix this together. Jimmy: Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments, changes. Jimmy: None of it will matter. Curly: You've gotten through difficult situations before. This time won't be any different. Work through it, one day at a time. Jimmy: It's not just me, is it? Jimmy: You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself. Jimmy: The ship, this crew, everything that happened here... Jimmy: This was your responsibility, Captain. Jimmy: That is what you'll be hearing the rest of your life. Take responsibility. Jimmy: Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy. Jimmy: Despite what must have been the best efforts of its acclaimed captain. Jimmy: The Tulpar crew was never found. Jimmy: No one survived to tell the tale. Take responsibility. Jimmy: You're standing at the top. Jimmy: Feet in cement. Jimmy: I get it now. Right? Curly: ... Curly: ... Right.

This is an important moment, because aside from the scene in which Jimmy is approaching Curly while he's on fire, it's the only other time that I can recall the game separating from their perspectives to allow us to see them both, standing together.

We see a flash of Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy begins to pull away. Another flash. He continues to draw back. Another. He turns towards the cockpit.

Jimmy sees through Curly. He sees Curly's worst where Curly sees only Jimmy's best, and he's more that willing to use that against Curly.

He sees a man who is not going to do what's hard. He sees a man who is going to try to "fix it" only in the most superficial sense. A man who confuses the appearance of cohesion and peace with the reality of it. Someone who sees the rocking of the boat as a manifestation of taking action against a wrong rather than the wrong itself.

In the end, it seems they're both ruled by appearances. And Jimmy will soon rip appearances in every sense from Curly's fingertips. He will make him hurt. He will get his revenge. He'll turn Curly into the villain, taking away his title, his respect, and his very face.

For daring to look down on him, Jimmy will turn Curly into dust.

But I think these words—I hope it hurts—come back to haunt him.

Part Five: The Eye as a Mirror

Like I said, I went back to try to find each time the phrase is used. There's the beginning, of course, but then there's the pregnancy sequence, for lack of a better name.

When the Polle monstrosity emerges from the giant uterus (?), we see these words:

In this sequence, we see a lot of different images and concepts connected: Anya's pregnancy and thus her sexual assault by Jimmy are tied to Polle and the company. The emergence of the Polle monster from the giant uterus (and the idea of the removal of the pregnancy) is tied to the mouthwash, as it's an act of "cleansing." This is all then tied to the phrase I hope this hurts.

Unless I missed something, these are the only two moments when the phrase is used: When Jimmy crashes the ship, and when he's experiencing this hallucination.

All clean! Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth, huh? Through wreckage! Through silence! Wash it away! All day fire fresh!

"Clean" is important immediately. "Leave the dirt behind you now that your boots are clean," Jimmy says. Because in this accusation is Jimmy's actual intentions himself. He wants to rise above others and clean himself from their filth. Now, he wants to clean himself of his sins.

I think "Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth" is mocking him. A direct challenge to the thought that he could ever truly be "cleaned," at least in the ways he's so desperately trying to go about it. *Not to mention how this connects to the mouthwash, as it might get that 99%, but there's always going to be 1% left.

"Through wreckage" obviously refers to the wrecking of the ship, but also of their lives. All by Jimmy. Though I wouldn't doubt in his mind it connects to the wreckage of consequences (ie. Anya's pregnancy resulting from Jimmy's actions).

"Through silence" I feel connects back to Jimmy's attempts to keep everything quiet, both literally and figuratively.

"Wash it away" also has a mocking edge, as if stressing the foolishness of Jimmy's attempts to treat these very serious events as if it's all just "dirt" he can wipe off.

Finally, we see "All day fire fresh!" This line stresses the connection to the mouthwash, of course. It also calls to mind the concept of cleansing by fire. Important considering Curly.

And after each, I hope it hurts. Jimmy's statement of pure, childish rage. His desperate desire to make others hurt as he hurts. To lash out, to get revenge. To have control until the very end.

This is also why Polle haunts him. Because he, as a man desperate for control, will always be under the thumb of the company even with that title of captain. That hurts him. And maybe the closest thing to ever recognizing the evil he's done to Anya is envisioning it as similar to the company's control, but even that feels like a mockery because he's so horrifically incapable of seeing her as a human being that she's been reduced to her womb. That's what he's really afraid of, in the end, and the fear feels like something else is in control. It makes the organ feel giant, larger than him, capable of hurting him.

When I was watching the playthrough, I thought that there was going to be four or five "I hope it hurts." I thought it would represent each person Jimmy hurts, or all of them, because he hurts himself too. When the sixth came, I thought so much for that theory. But then, I thought about it and there's the fetus. That makes six.

So, I hope this hurts means "I want to hurt you the way I've been hurt. The way you've hurt me." It's Jimmy saying that if his life has been wrecked, he'll wreck yours. It's Jimmy saying he'll shut you up. It's Jimmy saying he'll burn everything down if it means he can maintain control, or even just the illusion of it.

Part Six: Pain

But I think there's another side to this. Like some of the other lines I said feel are mocking him, I think I hope this hurts turns against Jimmy, especially here. And more than that, pain (and by extension, pain medication) plays a massive role in the game, after all. So I hope this hurts feels as if it haunts every moment where it's involved.

Jimmy says this the first time he gives Curly his pills. Pain is how we know we're still living.

The pills are clearly connected to death from the start. If "pain is how we know we're still living" then pain is connected to life and freedom from it is connected to death. That's saying nothing of Anya's use of the pills to kill herself. I think this connects back to the crash, as well. If life is pain, death is an escape from it.

I think it's also significant that the act of swallowing the pain pills is in and of itself painful.

The pills that are meant to take the pain away become a method of torturing Curly. It's a way to make him hurt, and to exert control over him. Even something that should take away his suffering is just an extension of it.

At one point, Jimmy says "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." In this sense, the pain pills are meant to suppress, not to heal (Through silence!). They're supposed to shut Curly up and keep him from expressing his anguish in the only way he has left (the noises that disturb Jimmy's sleep).

Others have compared this, or Curly's state, to how Anya has been forced to bottle up her own suffering. Jimmy is keeping them both quiet, or at least attempting to. The ultimate form of keeping them quiet would be to, of course, kill them all.

The pills can also be seen as an attempt to hide or conceal the hurt that has been caused rather than to actually heal. In this way, they're like the mouthwash: something that's not really helping, just covering up an issue (and thus making it worse). And the mouthwash represents Jimmy's attempts to "fix" things. He doesn't actually want to make things right, because that would mean taking accountability. He wants to protect his own ego by "fixing" things in a mimicry of Curly "fixing" things in which he wants to create a sense of "rightness" without actually adressing what (or who) has been wronged. Jimmy can't stand to look at himself, because he would see that he really is constructed of his worst moments, or at least, that's what I suspect he would see.

Conclusion

Considering all of this, I hope this hurts can then become a mantra about living in spite of everything. I hope this hurts means "I hope I'm alive in the end. I hope we're all alive in the end." It could mean "I hope I'm allowed to hurt, because I am hurt, and the harm that's been done to me must be seen rather than suppressed and hidden." It could mean "You can't keep me quiet. You can't ignore or hide what you've done to me."

Maybe most of all, I think it means I hope you reap what you sow. When it's turned back on Jimmy, when it's almost mocking or haunting him, it becomes in part about his emotional weakness. About his inability to look at himself and his reality without experiencing the pain of humiliation. I don't think he ever experiences half of the pain he's inflicted on those around him. Still, he has to deal with the fact that his attempt to hurt others instead of facing himself has caused him more pain rather than taken it away as he'd hoped.

And I think that's why he suddenly decides to make Curly a "hero" instead of a "villain." There's a tipping point where he's pushed into a corner. The pain is too much. He hasn't confronted his own actions in any real way, but he's done enough that he can't stand to save himself anymore. It hurts too badly to live with what he's done. It sends him into another stage of fantasy/delusion. The only thing left to do is what he intended to from the start: kill himself to escape and damn Curly to a slow death. Because to go on living in spite of the pain would be the right thing to do, in a sense. To live in the hell of his own creation. To face what he's done. But instead, he'll entrust those heroics to Curly.

This feels barely coherent in the end, so I might come back in a few days and say wow what the fuck was I talking about? But hopefully there's something here that captures some truth. Again, please feel free to correct me if I'm misremembering anything or if I missed something.

[whatswrongwithblue]

In The Night, In The Dark

Edited screenshot and beta'ing done by my dearlest love, @inuhalfdemon

Summary: Alastor x afab Reader x Shadow smut. Easily read as a stand-alone, there's no other context needed to enjoy this instalment, but it is technically Part 5 of my "Girl Talk" series. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 4 are all dirty humor and Part 3 is also easily stand-alone smut of the "filthiest" kind.

TW's: Slight dub-con at the very beginning, voyeurism, masturbation, vaginal fingering, anal, biting, threesome, double penetration, squirting, creampie. 8,271 words of romance and debauchery lay before the "Read More." MDNI and plan on a shower afterwards.

Before the Hazbin Hotel . . .

Before you met Angel Dust . . .

Before the seven loneliest years of your life . . .

You had found yourself in the beginnings of a wonderful and complicated romance with The Radio Demon.

You had known him for a while, prior to becoming intimate, and had seen Alastor in a variety of moods.

He could be charming, enthusiastic, charismatic, downright funny, and the life of the party. He could sing and dance the night away, sweep you off your feet, all while being outright goofy. This was the side of him that, over a considerable amount of time, you had fallen in love with.

He could be terrifying; a monster (quite literally), a murderous psychopath, a sadistic and twisted killer who made strangers flee from him and far unluckier souls kneel to him. The kind of man who took what he wanted, regardless - or sometimes because - of who it hurt. This was the side of him that had initially caught your eye and ignited the flame of your darkest fantasies. Heaven help you, there a was a reason you were down there in Hell with men like him. While it had taken you a long while to realize he was the man of your dreams, it had taken you even longer to get his attention.

But now that you had it . . .

You were realizing there was a secret, third side to his personality; one you had only seen glimpses of so far. A distant and cold version of Alastor, where he couldn’t stand to be touched, forwent his chivalry, and yet, in a very twisted sense of the idea, let his guard down. These dark moods settled on him whenever something or someone got under his skin and he had no real outlet for his frustrations. No form of violence or vengeance would settle him, and he couldn’t exactly lash out at you because of it. He felt the new and unnerving need for you in these moments but was also desperate for distance.

It seemed tonight he had finally figured out a solution to this problem.

____

You had just fallen into the first stages of sleep, where the drowsy fog still kept your faculties from you, but you were also halfway aware of what was happening to you.

Pleasantly cool fingers ghosted across your skin, tickling your hips bones and dipping lower to your thighs, lifting you from your dreams. Still half asleep, you automatically assumed it was Alastor, and in your hazy stupor, didn’t question it. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck into your apartment, your room, your bed in the middle of the night. You even encouraged it. So, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt or concern in your mind as you kept your eyes shut and shifted more onto your back, parting your legs just enough to let the familiar long and tender fingers begin stroking over your panties.

Your breath came in quicker, louder pants as he worked you up. Long, slow, torturous touches that burned you up on the inside and left you wet and swollen on the outside.

By the time you fully awoke, you had already soaked through your panties – simple little cotton things that didn’t even match the t-shirt you had put on before bed. It’s not like you had been expecting company, and Alastor – well he didn’t find sexual appeal in anything you wore anyway.

Still with your eyes closed, you turned your head and reached an arm out to the other side of the bed, wanting to reciprocate the delicious foreplay he was pampering you with.

“Hmmm . . . Al’,” you breathed his name, still reaching for his body but when you finally heard his voice, it didn’t come from where you expected it to.

“I’m here.”

But he wasn’t.

Here was right next to you in bed but his voice was coming from there. From somewhere past the foot of the bed and much too far away to be connected to the hand that had just slid itself under the elastic band of your underwear and was finally giving your pussy the direct contact it had been begging for.

You opened your eyes and true to what the flutter in your heart had told you, Alastor was not what was lying next to you in bed.

It was just darkness.

A deep black mass of a thing that vaguely resembled your lover. The only part of it that had any detail was the forearm and hand that was still doing rather pleasant things to your body, though your mind was ringing with alarm bells.

“It’s alright, my dear,” Alastor’s voice assured you and your head whipped around to face him, your ears triangulating easily on the direction of his voice now that you were awake and alert. “It’s me . . . well,” he chuckled without humor, “mostly me.”

It dawned on you then just exactly what was happening. In the simplest of terms, Alastor was having his shadow finger-fuck you in bed . . . while he watched. The realization left you feeling shy and unsure of yourself in a way you hadn’t felt in very long time.

You looked Alastor in the eyes, trying to gage if this was really what he wanted, but only found a quiet, deep rage in those beautiful ruby orbs of his. It unsettled you but it also really turned you on.

“I want this,” he said, his words assuring you, though his tone was commanding. “But if it’s too much for you . . .”

He trailed off and looked away and as he did so, the shadow pulled away from you. The brevity of its departure made it more obvious that you had indeed been enjoying its touch and your walls clenched longingly at the thought of its return.

‘I’m okay with it,” you replied quickly. Maybe too quickly, if Alastor’s raised eyebrow was any indication. “I mean . . .” You hesitated, being more careful in your word choice. Even if your answer disappointed Alastor, you would only upset him more if he ever found out you weren’t explicitly honest with him. “I’d like to keep trying. If you’re really okay with it, that is.”

“I wouldn’t even let it look at you if I wasn’t, let alone fuck you like I intend it to,” he replied with a deadly low tone.

You swallowed.

“And if I say stop?”

“Then we’ll stop. Of course.” He nodded, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second, letting slip that sliver of decency he still kept close to his heart when it came to you.

“Okay,” you agreed. Alastor stood and walked over to you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, letting his eyes roam over you sprawled out on top of your sheets, the damp spot visible on your underwear, even in the darkness of the room. “Now, let’s have a better view of you going forward, shall we?”

He pulled your panties slowly down your legs, letting the pads of his fingers dance across your flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake that his claws gently raked against.

It was the last direct touch he gave you until after his shadow had shown you what it could really do.

Alastor walked back to his chair that was leaned against the opposite wall of your bed. A chair that you didn’t own or had ever seen before. Which meant he had materialized it just for this.

Your eyes about bugged out of your head as he undid his buckle and his trousers and pulled his already hard and throbbing erection free before taking his seat. He sat like a King on his throne, legs wide apart, shoulders straight and confident, and one hand gripping the armrest while the other took hold of the base of his cock. Meanwhile his eyes stayed locked on you.

As if a silent command had been issued, the swirling mass of shadows next to you began to thicken, reaching for you once more. This time you were ready for it and kept your legs wide and raised your hips up as the ghostly dark hand found your heated center. It explored you thoroughly, running multiple fingers over and between your folds, toying with your clit and the sensitive line of eager flesh that led from it to the very center of your weeping cunt. You got the distinct impression it was like an eager student, who had been watching and observing its master, and was now ready for its own hands-on learning.

The shadow shifted, moving closer to you and you tensed a little as you expected it to crawl over you, but then it . . . disappeared?

No.

It went beneath you.

You watched, fascinated, as it slipped itself between your body and the sheets and then you felt it, lifting you away from the mattress by barely an inch. It felt almost like a thin layer of water between you and the bed, not so solid that it didn’t give into the natural swells of your body but definitely solid enough to feel.

There was the slightest tickling at your neck that then began to intensify, and you blinked in wonder as the darkness morphed into a face next to yours. One that looked very much like Alastor’s, but far less detailed. Those eyes though, although green rather than red, were very much the eyes you knew so well and adored.

Even in the haze of arousal that the hand working your pussy was clouding your judgement with, you came to understand the relationship between Alastor and his shadow in an intimate way that no other act but this could bring you.

While it had a mind of its own, a body of its own, Alastor and it were inexplicably connected to each other. Your real lover, the man watching you from the chair a few feet away, could see through those green eyes and could feel what those hands felt. It was Alastor’s mouth and his shadow’s mouth that bit down on tender flesh where your neck met your shoulders, teasing the skin there until it was marked and bruised, but never breaking skin.

This was how Alastor could find comfort in you without pushing the limits of his own touch-adverse body when he fell victim to his darkest moods.

You let a moan slip from your lips as the shadow’s fingers found a perfect rhythm of strokes from clit to center and felt every bit of reservation ease from your body as you gave in to this strange and unique form of sex.

Another hand materialized on your other side, snaking its way up beneath your t-shirt, tickling your ribs and cupping the bottom swell of your breast. You moaned again, arching your back, and felt it pinching your nipple. It squeezed and rolled it, stimulating it until it was peaked and taught.

You felt your pleasure building, increasing at a rapid pace you didn’t know you had in you, brought on by the delicious exoticness of the silky coolness of the shadow’s flesh against yours. Desperate for more contact, you turned your face into it, nuzzling the side of the head next to yours and felt something similar to hair but it floated softly through the air as if underwater.

Then you remembered Alastor and your eyes shot to him but rather than meeting his gaze, you locked onto the throbbing member in his grasp and the way he was slowly pumping himself as he watched you. His tip was red and swollen, almost as tense and angry as his dark expression, and even in the dim light of the room, you could see the bit of precum glistening at the top, ready to spill over and run down his shaft.

And still his hand was slow and methodical on himself, just a causal rise and fall along his entire length, purposefully drawing out his own pleasure.

Just as the wave of your first orgasm began to crest, the shadow slipped its fingers inside you, at last giving you some sensation of being filled as it curled what felt like two long and slender digits up and into the spongey sweet spot. You cried out and threw your head back as it rubbed its palm against your clit and pumped into your depths. The wet squelching noise it pulled from your body was drowned out as you voiced your ecstasy. You came with shaking legs and an arched back and you had never felt closer to the man who was ironically across the room.

As you came down from your orgasm, a kind of blissed out clarity overwhelmed you. Now you felt truly free to love and adore and desire every aspect of Alastor, even his darkest most detached part of his soul. He would feel it, he would understand it, and he wanted it.

The shadow didn’t stop its task as your orgasm came to a close, but it did slow its pace with an expert understanding of how your body worked. Letting up on the pressure of its palm against your clit, it ever so gently worked your inner walls, keeping you from the overwhelming sensation of overstimulation – at least for now – and letting your pleasure rebuild upon itself, riding the cascading wave of your last orgasm to quickly reach a new and second high.

At first you merely panted. Open-mouthed and head thrown back into the strange and thin shoulder supporting you from beneath, you were dazed into feeling nothing but the tantalizing fingers working their magic on you. But then it quickened its pace, knowing just the moment when your body was ready for more and you whimpered, a pathetic wanton little sound, that almost sounded like a response to pain.

The pressure of the shadowy palm returned to your clit and surprisingly sharp claws dug into your breast. You stared at Alastor, eyes roaming between his face and his lap. He was not meeting your eyes, not when his own was so clearly locked onto what was happening between your legs, truly enthralled by the scene of his shadow’s hand fucking your pussy, the view from his vantage point perfect for such voyeurism. His cock was positively weeping at this point and your mouth watered at the sight of the single stream of salty liquid that spilled from his tip and without breaking rhythm, he coated his entire length with a thin layer of it. You wanted to take him in your mouth, feel the weight of him on your tongue, let the musky taste of him overwhelm your senses and mix your saliva with his own fluids to increase his own pleasure. But he didn’t move a muscle towards you, and you were fixed to the bed, helpless to pull away from the shadow that had you in its grip from beneath.

You came again, lost in the thought of pleasuring Alastor in return for what he was doing to you now. This orgasm was longer and more intense than the first and your cries filled the room but this time you kept Alastor within your view and didn’t miss his smile widen in approval as he watched your hips rocking with reckless abandon into his shadow.

Feeling spent, you let your body melt into the dark and fluid body beneath yours, thinking it might be over now.

But then you heard the distinct tsk that often came from Alastor whenever he teasingly disapproved of something you had said or done and your eyes shot back open when you realized, he still hadn’t come.

You weren’t sure you had much more in you and trusted Alastor when he had said all you had to say was “stop” and he would, but your twisted curiosity wanted to see where he would take this if you allowed it. So, you said nothing as you met his gaze, seeing his cock in your peripherals still being worked by that hand as steady as a metronome.

“That was just some foreplay, my dear,” Alastor said and then tilted his head at you, as if considering something. “Tell me you haven’t grown curious as to what its cock would feel like inside of you.”

Your cunt ached at his words, unearthing a level of desire in you that you didn’t know existed up until then.

“Well, I certainly am now,” you say, feeling more and more like your usual confident self with every passing second.

You felt the shadow beneath you thicken, lifting your hips just a fraction higher, and you bent your knees slightly, pressing the bottoms of your feet into the mattress, catching on quickly to the position his shadow was putting you in.

“That’s it,” Alastor said, a mix of pride and authority in his voice as he appraised you. “Good girl, just like that.”

You felt the tip of something wider than the fingers at your entrance, teasing and undulating the shallowest parts of your walls and you bore down, helping to guide it in until it was fully sheathed within you, the angle of penetration not allowing for anything deeper.

With black arms and hands wrapped around your torso, the shadow that was an odd mix of two and three dimensions began thrusting up into you, and you leaned your weight of your back into it, embracing its hold on you as it fucked you from beneath.

It must have been quite the show for Alastor; your legs spread wide, your pussy on full display, as its dark and pulsing shaft came up from underneath you and penetrated your most intimate of places, all the while its hands roamed beneath your t-shirt, groping and teasing at your belly, your ribs, your breast, and your hard and aching nipples.

For a while, it was mostly silent in the room. Just the sounds of your soft moans and heavy breath were enough to dominate the air, though in-between the gentle, lusty notes of your voice, more carnal sounds were heard. The squeaking of the bed frame, the wet, slippery sound of the infernal, inhuman cock pounding into your core, and the very subtle, hardly there at all sound of Alastor’s fist working his own member and the occasional hard intake of breath from him.

He was finally getting close, though he was clearly desperately holding out for more time.

Eager to see his release, that moment when he would lose control, you began meeting the shadow’s rhythm with a more active enthusiasm than you had been showing.

You took one of the hands from beneath your shirt and guided it slowly back down between your legs, and it did as directed, meeting your clit with eager and quick circles that had you immediately moaning and crying out. You were going to come again and soon and you craned your head forward to get a good look at Alastor.

“Oh fuck, this feels so good,” you said, your words affected by the shakiness of your breath and the ever-present steady rocking of the shadow beneath you. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

His answer was simple, direct, and still you could hear how close he was in that one quick word.

“Mmmm,” you moaned, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment. “I’m so close.”

You heard him breath harshly through his nose, your affect on him undeniable. You didn’t often dirty talk like this with him but if it was a show he wanted, a show he would get.

Biting your lip, you grasped at the wrist resting on your pelvic mound, directing Alastor’s view back towards your sex. Then you looked down at yourself, at the shadowy hand that blurred around the edges but circled your swollen clit with a perfect, rapid motion and the darkness beneath it that was glistening with your slickness as it pumped in and out of you.

You twitched and clenched at the sight of it all, edging ever closer to your next orgasm, and wondered at how Alastor had lasted as long as he had.

“I’m gonna come,” you said desperately, looking back at Alastor with your neediest expression. “But I need – I need . . .”

“You need what, darling?” he asked, impatiently. You noticed his speed quicken as he pumped his cock though you were sure it was an unconscious decision on his part. Suddenly you felt like you were the one in control of the situation and let the next words flow from your lips, certain of the affect they would have on him.

“You,” you breathed. “Come for me, Alastor. I want to see it.”

The motion of the cock inside of you matched that of Alastor’s hand on his own member as the two quickened the pace in perfect sync with each other. His eyes narrowed, possibly feeling conflicted at his own loss of control but succumbing to his own desire nonetheless.

“Yes,” you sighed, giving into the sensations as well, as you moved your hips back and forth to meet the shadow that was filling you up.

You felt your body tense, felt the swelling and constricting of all your lower muscles and organs, and you thought for a second you had lost, that you were going to come once again without Alastor, but then you heard the deep, masculine grunt from your lover and looked in time to see his cock twitching in his hand, the first milky rope of his cum spurting out over his tightened fist and your orgasm hit your body like a ton of bricks.

It was a lucky thing you were in Hell because whatever noises tore from your throat were not meant to be made in Heaven. A rush of blood went to your core, your pussy clenching impossible tight on the wide shaft that still had your legs spread wide, urging even more wetness from you that coated your inner thighs and ran down your ass to pool in the sheets below you. All the while you couldn’t peel your eyes away from the wonderous sight of Alastor coming undone in front of you, spilling his seed for you and making a creamy mess all over his hand, torso, and trousers.

In the silence afterwards, it was all you could do to lay flat on your back as you felt the shadow finally retreating from your body, and you blinked up at the ceiling above, positively lost in the thoughtless post-orgasmic bliss you were experiencing.

As if from a great distance, you heard the shuffling of clothes and knew Alastor had stood and had begun undressing himself, but he didn’t approach you.

“Finish undressing her,” you heard him say, “and have your way with her.”

Excuse the fuck out of me, you thought.

He was talking to his shadow as if you weren’t even there, as if you weren’t an active participant in this, and that just wouldn’t do. Alastor may have been The Radio Demon, Hell’s most powerful and prominent Overlord, but he hadn’t fallen for you because you were the type of soul to just . . .  take things lying down, so to speak.

If he still wanted you and his shadow to go at it another round, it would be on your terms.

Those shadowy limbs reached for you again but you sat up, meeting its green eyes with a steel gaze, hard enough to halt its approach.

It solidified completely for the first time that evening, collecting its darkness into the same size and shape as Alastor’s body, and you weren’t sure if it was in acceptance of what it was reading in your expression, or as a challenge. Either way, you were ready.

You braced your hands on its shoulders and swung one leg over its hips, feeling the press of its hardness between your bodies, pinned against its stomach and your mound. Reaching between yourselves, you took the erection that was uniquely as dark as night but also as hard and velvety as the other one you knew so well, and lifted yourself up on your knees enough to line its tip up with your entrance. With a boldness that was encouraged by the sheer offense you had taken at Alastor’s words, you bore your gaze into those wide green eyes as you slowly sank yourself down, feeling every inch of it as you took in its length and bottomed out. There was a pressure, deep in your gut, as its swollen tip pressed against the very end of your deep and tight walls, and you let yourself groan as you knew Alastor would be able to feel just how completely his shadow was filling you up now that you had shifted positions.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him standing frozen in place, his hands paused on the buttons of his shirt, and though he looked surprised, you could see him processing this change in you. There was something new in his expression, a kind of anticipation, as if he couldn’t wait to see where this new plot twist would lead him. He hadn’t expected this of you, but he wasn’t about to step in and interfere.

Before you had turned back around, you felt the shadow’s hands with those unnaturally long and slender fingers grasping at your hips and reaching around to squeeze the swell of your ass and pull you closer. Still looking at Alastor, you did as the shadow encouraged and rocked your hips; just once but in an exaggerated, slow and hard way that was clearly just a prologue to the rough and hard way you were about to ride his shadow. You could see Alastor’s jaw tense in response and smiled.

Oh, he could definitely still feel everything his shadow did.

You turned back to the shadow and leaned away from the torso that was pressed against you just enough to be able to cross your arms in front of yourself, grip the edges of your t-shirt, and slowly raise it up, giving it a good long and torturous show of exposing your mid-drift. The hem of your shirt caught on the bottom swell of your tits, pulling them up with the fabric before you lifted your arms more, letting them bounce free, your nipples reaching into hard little rosy peaks as they were exposed for the first time to the cooler air of the room. Then your shirt was up over your head and tossed to the floor, utterly forgotten as your arms came back down and wrapped around the shadow’s neck.

You could finish undressing yourself, thank you very much.

You rocked your hips again and then a second time, as slowly and teasingly as before.

“Alastor likes me on top more than he’d ever admit,” you said to the shadow, taking your turn to talk to it as if Alastor wasn’t in the room. “Likes the way I ride his cock hard and fast. Is that the way you want me to fuck you?”

Alastor said your name from behind you, almost warning you, but you ignored him, instinctually knowing he still wasn’t going to interfere.

The shadow remained silent, unable to speak, but you felt it twitch inside your cunt.

You began in earnest, bouncing yourself up and down its shaft, holding tightly to its neck and shoulders.

“Like this?” you asked again and the shadow pulled your face closer to it until your foreheads touched, its glowing eyes looking at you with such open need and adoration that words weren’t necessary. “Hmmm, yeah, just like this,” you agreed. “You feel so good. Just like him. But right now . . . ” you trailed off, digging your own demonic claws into its neck and feeling not quite flesh but something of its essence did give way beneath your talons. Still riding it, never once losing your pace, you kept eye contact as you continued, “. . . right now your cock is the one I need.” 

The shadow pulled you roughly to it then, holding your body tightly against its own, just enough to let you continue rolling your hips, letting you lift yourself up just a few inches off its length before gliding back down, continuing the devilishly rapid pace that you had set, pumping yourself up and down its cock over and over and over again.

You lost yourself then, thinking only of the shadow inside of you, beneath you, wrapped around you. It felt like it was everywhere at once, teasing and nipping at your skin, touching and stroking your body inside and out. The full-bodied man behind you was almost forgotten, but not completely. In the back of your mind, you stayed aware of his presence, his eyes on you as you took command of your own pleasure and used his shadow for yourself. And you never forgot who this shadow was a manifestation of and who was really feeling the way your body was pressed against it.

Indeed, the very thought of this new and exciting being that you had accepted into your bed still being a part of Alastor just fueled your passion. Made you cling to it a little tighter, clench your aching and dripping pussy down harder, and roll your hips a little more sensually.

You had started with a brutal pace, as if to prove a point that you weren’t to just be ordered around and used, but the longer you went, the more minutes passed by, the more the mood shifted.

The way the shadow was looking at you, as if you were giving it a gift it could never have conceived of, as if it truly appreciated the way you had embraced it, reached deep into your heart.

This was supposed to just be a senseless fucking. A reprieve for Alastor, to strip away and be done with whatever had put him in such a sour mood. And you knew that it had simply been expected of you to go along with it. You were already a much more physical person than he was and had already proved to him that you could take anything he could throw at you when it came to intercourse.

It had been one thing to let his shadow fuck you and for him to watch. It was even better that you had enjoyed it; he and his shadow had both wanted that. To watch you and feel you come for it, multiple times.

But then to want more of it, to not only accept but embrace this darkest, most malevolent part of his essence, his very soul, turned this night into something else entirely.

You were beyond just “okay” with all of this; you desired every bit of this shadow entity, would let it do anything it wanted to you, all because of how deeply and desperately you loved Alastor.

And there was something even kinkier to that, somehow. That two fucked up people, who had maimed and murdered and devoured others, had ended up together and brought each other’s walls down, saw the absolute worst and most vile sides of each other .  . . and liked what they found. You adored this darkness, reached for it, wanted it all around you and inside of you, to let it fill you up until there was nothing left but you and the man you loved.

The change didn’t happen all at once but rather over the course of several minutes but eventually you found yourself not fucking this shadow with wild and raunchy abandon, but properly and passionately making love to it.

There was a sweetness to the way you rolled your hips now, a tenderness in the way your hands roamed over its body, an acceptance in how your chest pressed against its own until it could feel the steady beat of your undead heart reverberating against it. It left you impossibly wetter than before and you leaned into this new sensual expression of your desire, daring now to even press gentle kisses along its neck.

Then there were fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your face towards it, and in with the most foreign of sensations, you realized it was kissing you. Dry but liquid lips crashed against your own, the ghost of a tongue lapped and danced its way into your mouth, but those teeth were very familiar. Their sharp sting a reminder of who this really was as it bit and sucked on your lower lip, just the way Alastor liked to do.

All at once you came, before you had any kind of warning. You cried out and panted, open-mouthed and slack jawed against the shadows lips as your body tensed, the lovely roll of your hips turning into rapid, unsteady jerks you had little control over. Alastor’s shadow held you close as you rode it out, continuing to grind against it as wave after wave hit you deep in your core, and it kissed and sucked on your neck and shoulders as your orgasm went on and on. Its kisses were strange, soothing and soft, but didn’t leave the same kind of cool, wet spots on your skin afterwards like you were used to. Its mouth had been the silkiest, smoothest texture your tongue had ever tasted but not heated and moist like Alastor’s. The mix of differences and similarities prolonged your pleasure into the longest, most stimulating orgasm you had ever experienced.

When it finally ended, you smiled against the shadow’s mouth, and its permanent grin widened in response. You nuzzled your nose against it, and it cradled the back of your head, taking the moment to enjoy this newfound intimacy. Its body was steady against yours even as you still fought to catch your breath and you laughed softly at the irony of having such a sweet and loving moment with one of Hell’s most deadly entities.

Hands gripped your shoulders from behind and pulled you away.

“My turn,” Alastor said as he forced you onto your back and crawled on top of you.

There was a second where you felt surprised and disoriented, but you recaptured your senses quickly and spread your legs to accommodate him, bringing your arms up and around his shoulders as his lips crashed hungrily against yours.

It didn’t take you but a few seconds to realize this was Alastor, completely stripped bare, both literally and figuratively. Free of all clothes and reservations, this was the lover you knew best, and he was finally ready to have close, direct contact with you.

He lingered at your mouth for a moment, demanding entrance, his tongue hot and rough against yours as he reclaimed your body for himself. Then he shifted, biting as often as he kissed, as he left a trail of marks along your jawline, throat, collar bone, and breasts.

“Touch me,” he asked, his tone guttural and full of static, almost pleading with you, before he took one of your nipples in his mouth, letting its peak slide between his teeth and then coming back down for another painful suck.

You started by running your fingers through his hair, letting your fingertips massage the tension you could feel in his scalp, before you turned your attention to his ears. You rubbed them first at the base and ran a hand up each of their sides, feeling the thick leathery skin beneath the short and dense fur. You circled the pad of your thumb against each tip, earning yourself a moan from your lover who was still intently sucking at your breasts, and then moved your hands to the base of his antlers. Pressing your fingers down, you stroked the flesh of his scalp where the antlers protruded from, having learned months ago that they became unbearably itchy whenever Alastor was irritated.

“Oh, my love,” you whispered to him. “I’m here. It’s okay now. I love you.”

He shuddered at your words, his breath coming out in hot pants that tickled your chest and gave you goosebumps, despite the heat.

“I love you,” he replied, lifting his head and moving his body back up until you lined up perfectly.

Without needing any other words to continue, he found what he was looking for in your expression and guided himself into you. You relaxed your tired muscles as his cock filled you up, welcoming the embrace of his true self and the more familiar, solid body you were used to.

You both sighed as he bottomed out and a second later, when he began to move within you, your lips met once more.

You returned his passion, letting your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, feeling his lean and slender muscles waver between taught and relaxed at your attention. Letting your reach extend lower, you cupped his ass, pulling him tighter to you, encouraging deeper, more meaningful thrusts out of him. Then you found his upright tail, with an erect ridge of fur along its bottom length that you caressed and ran your fingers through, holding back a giggle as you felt it wag from side to side within your grip.

How you loved his tail; the most expressive, innocent part of his anatomy. It was no wonder he hid it from the world. It was positively adorable and always gave his true feelings away, but you were happy to keep its existence to yourself. It was your little secret you kept just between the two of you; a part of him he saved for your enjoyment alone.

At this point, you were getting a little sore, but you persevered, enjoying the sweet pain of being taken so many times. You were still plenty wet, more than enough to have to lean on the aid of lubricant, and the longer Alastor continued his slow and steady pace, the more you became ready for more. It was like his cock was dragging the last reserves of your desire out from within, inch by inch, stoking your pleasure from a smoldering ember into a refreshed, raging fire.

And you knew what you would need to push you over that final edge.

He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, completely absorbed in the feeling of you beneath him, but when you whispered his name, he lifted himself up enough to look into your eyes.

“I want both of you,” you said with a husky, strained voice. “All of you.”

He slowed his pace but didn’t stop completely as he grinned at you in understanding.

“So greedy,” he teased.

“Only because I want you so much.”

“And what a monster I have created,” he agreed.

The sensation of the shadow beneath you returned, where it had been when this whole thing had begun. From between your back and the sheets, you felt yourself rising up, but unlike before, there was much more than just a single layer of blackness beneath you, with only hands and a face reaching up from the sides. This time it was as real and completely solid as when you had been riding it from on top, and you felt yourself pressed between two very corporeal, masculine bodies.

The shadow wasted no time in reacquainting its hands with your body and reached between you and Alastor to begin rubbing and circling your clit, while the other arm caressed every inch of your body it could reach.

Something pressed itself between your lower cheeks and you felt the silky touch of it against your ass. Not quite a finger; it didn’t feel exactly like how Alastor occasionally touched you there, but it wasn’t wide enough to be the shadow’s cock either. A tendril, toying and caressing your tight and sensitive hole, playing with the flesh there just how you liked. The slender tentacle wormed its way into your entrance, swirling and stretching you just the slightest, giving you a shallow, pulsing feeling down there that added to your pleasure in a new and tingling way.

The shadow’s face appeared at the side of your head, and as Alastor dipped his mouth to your pulse point, yours met the shadow’s. Your fingers scratched into Alastor’s scalp and your tongue sought out his shadow’s. Wet and hot flesh danced against silky coolness. A warm body above and inside you and a misty, dark embrace took you from behind and below, and you had never felt so complete.

The tendril of shadow playing at your ass began to spread and widened and your eyes flew open as you felt the familiar, rounded tip of a cock nestled just within your entrance. It began to slide in further, easily and smoothly, as if already lubed up, but you tensed up between your two lovers.

“I don’t think- ” you gasped, knowing Alastor would feel what was happening without you having to explain. “I don’t think I can take it all.”

Alastor let go of his biting task at your neck and met your worried gaze, and you noticed he had a trace of your blood glistening on his lower lip as he smiled warmly at you. Each cock had stilled within you, one fully buried to its hilt in your pussy, and the other just a few inches inside.

“I think you can, sweetheart,” Alastor said, and his eyes darted over to his shadows for a second, before returning to yours. You felt the shadows lips on the other side of your neck, as if to sooth your worries with its touch, and Alastor continued to speak. “We can stop whenever you say the words,” his voice dropped a little lower, and his eyes shined brighter for a moment, “but you’re the one who asked for more.”

The darkness in his gaze did as he intended, and you felt your cunt gushing with desire and you willed the muscles around your ass to relax as well. You felt the slick affects of Alastor’s words dripping out of you, coating the base of his cock, and slipping down further to soak the hole the shadow was now continuing to push into.

Alastor pulled away first, then slid his length back in with an easy grace, and as his tip reached its end inside you, the shadow from beneath pulled away. Back and forth they went, in perfect, unnaturally well-done synchronicity, pumping and stroking and filling you up beyond what you thought your body capable of accepting.

And those fingers between you and Alastor, never stopping, working your clit with circles that seemed to complete a single rotation with every thrust of cock inside of you.

Now it was Alastor that was kissing you, as his shadow licked a trail from shoulder to jawline, cradling a breast in one hand, its thumb rubbing and pressing against a nipple in time with the action of the other hand against your throbbing bundle of nerves at the peak of your sex.

It was so much, all at once, and you could hardly move, pinned as you were between the two bodies. You were completely at their mercy as they fucked you together, two halves of one entity, working in tandem to draw out every sigh and moan of pleasure from your lips.

The deep intense pressure of it, of being penetrated so completely, of having two utterly gorgeous bodies worshipping yours and taking turns to move within you, was sheer, Hellish bliss. It ached and burned and stung and stretched you out and it was fucking amazing.

There was a rising tide within you, like a looming tsunami on the horizon, much more intense than even the last orgasm. It felt like you were pulling away from yourself, being dragged deep within, where nothing else existed but the two sets of lips on your flesh, the four hands caressing your body, the two cocks diving into you harder and harder with every passing second. Every desperate gasp of air you took in the only motion you seemed capable of making until those last few seconds.

One of your hands gripped at the shadow arm around your waist, nails digging in desperately, as you arched yourself forward and bit onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the massive wave of pleasure rocked your body like a freight train and something released inside of you.

You felt the rush of fluid from inside and out as your orgasm exploded out of you. The heat of it trickled down your thighs, soaking all three of your bodies where they were joined. Now the sound of Alastor’s thrusts, him and his shadows, took on an even wetter, more lewd noise and before you had processed what had happened, before the shaking of your body subsided, and at the very tail end of your own orgasm, Alastor found his own release.

His seed filled you up, hitting your cervix and coating every inch of your inner walls, as if to replace the essence of yourself you had just squirted all over him with his own. To mark you from deep within, just as he had done to your flesh when he first climbed on top of you.

And then the greatest surprise of the evening came when you watched as his shadow slithered out from beneath you and into Alastor; melting into him like two pictures being molded into one.

It shouldn’t have shocked you as you had seen this happen with your own eyes on countless of occasions but still, in the heat of the moment – or, well, technically the heat of the last hour or so – had made you forget that Alastor and his shadow spent more time as one than they did apart.

Alastor had literally split himself in two in order to experience what you two had just done and the realization of it made a fit of laughter burst out of you.

You covered your mouth in shock, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, but as he titled his head, those large deer ears of his flopping a little to the side at his confusion, you laughed even harder.

He was still inside of you, already softening, but his eyes were growing harder as they stared down at you in growing irritation. But you couldn’t help yourself, the absurdity and debauchery of the whole evening left you not knowing what else to do with yourself but laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you gasped through your laughter and he rolled his eyes and grunted as he pulled out of you and laid on his side, still watching you.

You had just about composed yourself when you took in the sight of him, perched up on one elbow, an eyebrow raised at you, his dick soft and flopping on full display for you, and you snorted with laughter again, burying your face in the bed beneath you.

“I had anticipated many reactions from you, but this was not one of them,” he deadpanned.

You choked back more laughter, sighing as you rolled onto your back for a moment, catching your breath. With one last little chuckle, you turned your head back towards him.

“Blame it on the endorphins.”

“Endor- what?” he asked, more confused and irritated than ever.

“Endorphins. They’re produced when you have sex. And you just ripped five fucking orgasms from me and made me squirt – which I’ve never done before. You fucked me silly, Al’. Deal with the consequences.” And you giggled some more, drunk and giddy on the rush of hormones and love you were feeling at the moment.

His whole body softened then and he reached forward and took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I suppose after the day I’ve had, your laughter is the best medicine I could have asked for.”

You snuggled closer to him, pressing your body into his, and curled up into his longer form.

“Stay with me tonight? Please?”

He kissed your forehead.

“But of course,” he said softly.

You heard the soft snap of his fingers and with a poof felt the bedding beneath you change into freshly clean and soft sheets that weren’t soiled by sex, sweat, and a variety of other bodily fluids. The sticky mess between your legs also disappeared . . . almost. You felt a thick wetness still deep within you and suspected Alastor had purposefully left just a bit of his cum in you, a little secret to keep you marked as his.  

A few minutes went by and as you dozed back to sleep, you noticed the change in rhythm of his breathing, and the slackness in his expression, and knew he had fallen asleep before you had.

You sat up halfway, studying his sleeping form, noting that his ever-present smile had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time you had slept in the same bed as him but you always fell asleep first and he always woke before you. This was the first time you had been treated to the site of Alastor’s sleeping form and you took a minute to marvel at how beautiful he was like this.

Then you leaned forward and pressed your lips between his eyes, where that mysterious “x” often showed itself when his more demonic forms came forward.

“I love you. Both of you,” you whispered and then settled into his arms, drifting off into dreams of shadow and darkness.

Part 6

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