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deliciouskeys · 3 months ago

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Me: I already wrote Tentacles for last kinktober. It's old hat now that it's actually part of canon. Why bother.

Me after staring at @vanshoundd and @annetess' art about it for like hours: Okay maybe I'll write it after all. (Thank you for your art 🤤)

Cozy corner kinktober 2024 prompt #11: Tentacles

Free and Wild and Beyond Good and Evil

Butchlander 3.1k; TW: noncon, violence, teratophilia, uh... idk just not very wholesome at all. Please excuse me.

There was never any real plan, Butcher admits to himself as he drives down the empty dark highway. Something something, Frenchie said the virus might be strong enough to kill Homelander, something something, it would have to be airborne which would start a supe plague and make everyone piss and moan about Butcher committing biowarfare genocide, something something, it was going to be a last resort. A plan Z, only nebulously conceived. So what was Plan A, really? What was good for the ganders (Ezekiel, Victoria) was unlikely to be good for the goose, but Butcher just can’t help but crave the visceral feeling of ripping Homelander apart, if not with his own bare hands, then at least his tumor’s jacked up bare hands. Cancer— it was really living up to the name. Butcher feels like he’s been possessed by an alien creature, cancriform, heinously ugly, and unbelievably strong. It’s just too tempting not to try, even though trying and not succeeding isn’t really a good option at all with a near-omnipotent supe like Homelander.

Butcher just has so little to lose. He’s a husk of a human being, and he feels more like a shambling, crumbling meatsuit to carry the cancer to its destination, its rendezvous with fate.

“I’ll get you your revenge, don’t you worry,” Kessler assures him and Butcher wants to hurl just a little bit knowing his cancer can just talk to him, choose whatever guise makes him feel at ease, through a literal neural link to his brain, even though Kessler seems to have chosen headquarters in a metastasis somewhere near his solar plexus, shooting tentacles out into the outside world like the rays of a black sun. “I’ll get you your revenge and you’ll get to experience every moment of it. I won’t leave you hangin’.”

+++

Homelander should have known not to take such obvious bait. Homelander should have remembered that the last two times William Butcher took it into his head to fight him, he very nearly succeeded in overpowering him. Or at least depowering him, with the help of a certain relic from the 1980s. At least that wildcard is still stashed in the federal freezer in DC. But Homelander should have realized that William Butcher announcing that he was ready to keep their scorched earth promise meant he came to play. Maybe he was touched that William called Vought’s headquarters and asked to speak to him. Maybe he was flattered to hear his phrase be used like code between them, even though they never seemed to entirely agree on its meaning. Maybe he was genuinely craving to finish William off before his illness got to do those honors.

Something prompted him to zoom over to the abandoned warehouse in Jersey City, without consulting Sage, without trying to locate Ryan and make sure he was safe, without doing much of anything besides walking straight into the ambush. Can it really be called an ambush if it’s announced beforehand? Homelander counts it as an ambush, because he expected to see William at half speed, that much closer to death with that growth in his brain no doubt spreading further. Instead… instead, before he can even locate which corner of the warehouse William’s heartbeat is coming from, a dark sticky tendril rapidly twines itself around his face— around his eyes first and foremost. Homelander let out only one snarl before something similar winds itself around his neck and begins constricting all breathing. Whatever it is, it’s moving fast, violently fast, and Homelander is astonished to feel just how strong whatever is trapping him is. His fingers scrabble at what feels almost like a plant vine around his face and neck, but he cannot wedge his fingers in and pry it away or apart. It’s squeezing him tighter and tighter… from what godforaken obscure corner of hell did William pick up this supe with boa constrictor powers? That Homelander can’t recall from Vought’s files at all?

Homelander tries not to panic, tries to orient himself, but he just feels more of whatever has him in its grips touching his legs. Not only touching his legs. Wrapping around his ankles, lassoing and pulling them flush against each other so that Homelander loses his balance and ends up suspended in the air. He thinks he’s hovering in the air through his own power, but whatever is holding him has got an iron grip and he suspects that he’d still remain suspended in the air even if he dropped himself down, held by this… thing, sticky, reeking of something oddly familiar and off-putting. The long vines holding him start winding their way around his body in tight coils towards each other, the one at his ankles proceeding to spiral up around the rest of his legs and the one from his neck proceeding to wrap his shoulders, pin his arms straight to his sides as it travels to meet its twin. Homelander is terrified to realize that no matter how much force he exerts against the long rope-like sentient arms, he can’t free himself. He’s never been overpowered like this… but that’s not really true is it. Last time he got pinned down against his will, William was one of the three perpetrators and Homelander had no doubt he was the ringleader. So where is he now? Homelander can hear his heartbeat, can smell him, his cigarettes, his beard oil, the tea molecules circulating in his veins and out his pores, and yes the vile stench of disease, and it’s overwhelming and all around him.

When Homelander renews his struggle to free one hand, a vine snaps against his knuckles painfully. “Knock it off,” William’s gruff voice tells him. Only then does it finally dawn on Homelander that the mystery supe managing to wrap him up like a mummy is Butcher himself, and that the sickly odor is exactly that— the smell of something that should be inside the body, the smell of something greedy and selfish and hogging all metabolic resources. It’s what William smelled ever so faintly of last time he saw him in the hotel kitchen, and now it’s on full blast so Homelander didn’t even place it as the same smell at first. A faint smile passes Homelander’s lips, always feeling pleased to finally recognize something. But that’s about all he has to be pleased about. The situation is dire— he cannot move and now he feels the distinct sensation of William’s two… arms? Vines? Tentacles? Trying to rend him in half. In vain so far, but the tentacles are so forceful, so persistent, that Homelander becomes worried when he hears popping sounds around his compressed ribcage. It’s not his body losing integrity like poor Vicky’s did though— it’s his suit giving up the ghost and getting shredded, the tentacles accidentally peeling him out of his clothing, rolling pieces of it toward his neck and others toward his ankles. Homelander tries to open his eyes, look through. Just getting a glimpse of the scene could help him figure out his best chance for escape, but the tentacle wrapped around his head is squeezing it tightly, as if hoping it can pop his skull open like a nut. It can’t, but Homelander also can’t open his eyelids against the constant pressure. He feels a breeze across his skin, he feels tatters of his suit still hanging off random limbs, but he’s largely naked, and the tentacle regroup, wrap around him again, and this time Homelander can’t help but squirm. It’s just too much sensation against his bare skin. ‘Stop’ he tries to plead but the tentacle squeezing his neck shut doesn’t let him do more than wheeze hoarsely and unintelligibly.

“I ain’t enjoyin it, I’m trying to rip him in half, hard as I can. Ain’t my fault he’s a durable motherfucker.”

Homelander desperately listens in, trying to identify someone else’s heartbeat, breathing, anything, trying to figure out who William is talking to, but all he hears is the cacophony of blood rushing through each tentacle as they twist and tighten ever more around his body. He can’t make out anyone else’s presence in the warehouse.

He still struggles against the grip he’s in, still tries to wriggle the hundreds of tentacle coils loose, but he has a sinking feeling that he’s immobilized until Butcher decides to relent.

+++

They’ve been in this deadlock struggle for more than an hour. Butcher isn’t so much physically tired as mentally weary. Homelander’s nude, and Butcher has never seen him like that before, even though most of him is hidden under the tentacles trapping him in place. Butcher watches the supe’s body periodically still making a valiant effort to escape, muscles shifting, flesh bulging around each tentacle constricting him. His skin is shiny and Butcher’s not sure if it’s the supe’s sweat or whatever clear sticky mucus his cancer’s tentacles keep secreting.

“Look at you two perverts. You’ve found a new bonding exercise!”

“Just shut it,” Butcher says very quietly, through gritted teeth, hoping the supe in his clutches is too preoccupied to overhear him talk to himself like the madman he’s become.

+++

Homelander wonders if the long time without taking full breaths is taking a toll on his brain functions. He’s stopped struggling against his confines. The tentacles can’t hurt him like they did Vicky— that much is clear. And Homelander is for some unfathomable reason both panicked and blissed out. He’s panicking at the level of strength he’s faced with here… He can’t bear to say it, but Butcher’s tentacles seem stronger than him. That doesn’t seem possible. Maybe they’re also ebbing his strength so he can’t get away. That’s a terrifying thought about a terrifying power. But he also can’t help but sink down and relax his body. The tentacles wrapped so tightly around him, trying to rip him in half, are also holding him so confidently, like a warm angry embrace. He knows Butcher’s trying to kill him, but not having his eyesight and not having enough oxygen is making his mind reel with bizarre thoughts in the darkness. There’s a warmth in his chest, knowing William is staring at him, knowing William is trying to twist and wring him out like a human towel, to no avail, not knowing how long it’s been because time has lost all dimension, but knowing William has been obsessed enough to hold him suspended in the air for quite a while.

He gasps when he feels a free end of a tentacle caress his face. The sensation could never be mistaken for a human hand by texture— the thing creeps across his skin leaving moist trails, moves unctuously with no bones inside it— but he can feel the intention behind the movement and it’s William through and through. And with his eyes forced shut, he can imagine the real scene but also see it as William spooning up behind him, holding his entire body in a chokehold, and caressing his face. It doesn’t matter if it’s affection or lust or even hatelust. Homelander leans into the touch, not only because he thinks distracting William might open up an opportunity to escape, but because firm, strong touch like this is instantly addicting.

+++

“The fuck is he doing?” Kessler laughs, watching Homelander clearly trying to push into the touch. “I was just going to stuff his throat, see if I can’t get him to stop breathing completely.”

Butcher doesn’t reply. He thinks it’s funny that Kessler has the need to explain his intentions. They share a brain, after all. They both feel it, no matter how they deny it. Butcher won’t deny it. If he can’t rip him apart, he wants to fuck Homelander in every hole he has. Maybe try to stab a new one into being while he’s at it. Enough with the foreplay. He presses a tentacle against the supe’s lips, preparing for a fight to push in, but the fucker parts his lips and offers no resistance. The only fight he encounters as he plunges in deep down his throat is he has to loosen his own grip on the supe’s neck, to allow some space for the tentacle to travel through.

+++

Homelander may have welcomed the tentacle into his mouth, but he still bucks in discomfort, gag reflex attempting to launch the thing back out, tears squeezing out of the corners of his shut eyes at the pain, yes the pain of feeling the tentacle invade him deeper and deeper, the pain of the tentacle’s diameter getting thicker and thicker as it pushes itself in, until Homelander feels like his throat can barely accommodate it, burning pain in his lungs as his airways are completely blocked off. No oxygen at all now. He won’t die from this, but he might start to get delirious, if he isn’t already. He can’t even moan, his vocal cords have no space to vibrate, stretched taut around the thick tentacle still plumbing his esophagus and god knows what else. So he can’t emit a sound, can’t really budge in protest when another tentacle presses into him from behind. He can’t say his body lets the tentacle in, because his body feels like it’s doing everything in its power to push out whatever just forced its way in. But it’s futile, and it’s not even under his voluntary control. His voluntary control is to quiet down and surrender to the sensations. Yes, he’s being violently spitroasted. Maybe Butcher still hopes there’s some path to killing him here. Homelander’s mind can’t even be bothered worrying about that possibility. He feels like he’s drifting, consumed by an uncanny deja vu, as if he’s been here before. Suspended, weightless, immobilized, attached, blind, muffled. At first he thinks it’s something from his lab days, one of many memories he’s largely buried and never unearths. But even though he’s anything but, he feels safe. Not much of what went on down in B6 felt safe. Maybe he just feels safe in the knowledge there’s nothing he can do, but it feels like more than that. With his eyes still forced shut, a strange vision materializes in front of his eyes. He’s in the womb, unborn, curled up and cramped but oh so warm, warm walls touching him on every side, muffled voices far away above him, his mother talking to someone, swaying when she walks and the fluid around him moving slightly with each step. Is it even possible that he could retain a memory of something like this? He grasps on to it, whether it’s a real memory or just a fever dream, because it feels so cozy, so safe, so loving, and even when he’s brought back to reality, to his body screaming for air, screaming for being able to free itself to move, screaming to push the thick intrusions inside of him back out, the alarm bells in his body seem far away and dull and irrelevant. He’s incredibly calm, maybe in a drugged, oxygen-deprived way, but it feels like bliss. Like fucking enlightenment.

+++

“He’s getting off to this shit. Un-fucking-believable.”

Kessler might feel the need to comment and distance himself from what they’re doing, but Butcher stays silent, lest talking break the spell Homelander seems to be under, watching the supe’s limp, pliant body accept everything he gives it.

“You’re one sick puppy, you know that?” Kessler comments, clearly uneasy as Butcher reaches a tentacle out to wrap around Homelander’s cock and that’s the one thing that causes his body to jerk violently again, but only once, accepting this too.

+++

Feeling that part of him touched brings Homelander out of the memory. It feels good compared to everything else inflicted on him so far, but it also brings him back to concrete, painful reality in a way he doesn’t like. He gags when he feels the thick tentacle slide out of his throat, scraping across his teeth as it exits. Homelander closes his jaw a few times, feeling soreness in his joints and in his throat, mouth full of thick saliva mixed with whatever sticky residue the tentacles leave everywhere. He coughs, spits, cries, there’s snot leaking from his nose and he can’t even wipe it off. He tenses when the tentacle around his head unravels as well and he blinks, adjusting to the light before staring down at Butcher standing below, finally seeing where the tentacles are coming from. His lasers power up, not even a conscious decision but probably a response to all the pain stimuli and seeing the culprit, but just as quickly a tentacle still wrapped around his forehead swivels his face away, and the laser cuts across the warehouse wall, missing the target.

+++

“Hoho, that was close!” Kessler laughs but doesn’t criticize the strange decision to uncover his captive’s strongest weapon.

Butcher looks on impassively as he fucks in and out of his nemesis’ lily-white ass, which gives a satisfying jiggle on every thrust of the dark tentacle. His mouth free now, he’s able to give little plaintive sighs and moans at each motion, and Butcher kind of wishes he could see his facial expression, but it’s just too much risk to have his eyes pointed anywhere but away.

“Do it,” Kessler says leaning in next to him. “You know you want to try.”

Butcher shrugs and briefly unravels the tentacles holding his legs together. Homelander bucks, as if trying to make a break for it, as if his upper body isn’t still being held fast by a bunch of other tentacle and as if the tentacle fucking him isn’t making it absolutely impossible to slip out backwards. Two tentacles wrap themselves around his legs, spreading them wide, probably painfully wide, because Homelander’s lasers go off again, a pathetic attempt at defense through offense again, considering his head is being held in a vise making sure he can only see the wall.

“That’s it, do it for her,” Kessler says, nodding slightly toward Butcher’s opposite shoulder. Butcher isn’t going to turn. He knows who’s standing there and he doesn’t want to see her face. He knows damn well this isn’t justice for anything she suffered. Just two monsters going at it, pretending they don’t absolutely love it. Homelander’s done pretending. His body shudders against the tight grip Butcher has on him, and spills on the floor with a sad sounding moan, visibly sagging in his confines before making the most pathetic movement to try and get away from the intrusion still going on behind him.

“Fuck him raw. Fuck him to death. A man’s got to have a limit doesn’t he?” Kessler cheers him on.

Butcher’s not so sure.

AO3 link

#cozy corner kinktober 2024 #cozy corner kinktober #butchlander #tw noncon #tentacles #billy butcher #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #fic #mystuff

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manjuhitorie · 4 years ago

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HITORI-ESCAPE 2020 : Hitorie’s Free Concert Live Stream - December 7th 2020

youtube

In celebration of their newest single, curved edge, Hitorie streamed a full length concert! Setlist: Polaris Senseless Wonder Namid[A]me Garandou Mae Zero Banchi SLEEPWALK Loveless Gekijougai Talkie Dance Unknown Mother Goose Karanowaremono Ao curved edge In it they announced the release of a new album! Named... REAMP! Febuary 17th can’t come soon enough!!! It will even include songs written by not only Shinoda, but Yumao and ygarshy each as well! Concert report below:

Initial Impressions: ＊ SND’s shirt has Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe printed on it. ＊ He has a stageprompter to assist with lyrics as well. He struggles to hit the high notes but he nails the high octane power chords. wowaka used to wing when his would sing, so he would slip on his lyrics, and make silly faces, every other song live. I see SND is playing it safe, now that he’s the one in charge of the crazy lyrics!!! Prelude leading into... Polaris ＊SND gets riled up and turned thhe「誰も知らぬ明日へ行け　誰も止められやしないよ」lyric into a rowdy 「止められやしねえよ」 . Equivalent to “No one can stop us” being turned into “No once can fucking stop us” or so. Shinoda “We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” (This ‘Hitorie desu, yoroshiku douzo’ was always wowaka’s stock concert phase.) Senseless Wonder ＊”Woo-hoo”’s or unintelligible noises made in the riff music breaks. ＊Yumao sings the backup vocals. ＊SND wiggles his foot on his Wah pedal to make the wonky sounds.

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “This marks the beginning of Hitori-Escape. We are called Hitorie. Everyone please stick with us.“Heavy breathing “Hold up. I jumping around too much right off the bat.. I jumped around too much... All I did was hip and hop around a little bit... Haah. I’m gonna drink some water, drink some water!” SND walks over to the amp where bottles lie atop then proceeds to take a big sip. Yumao also follows along with a drink. Yu and SND can be seen conversing, but only SND’s “You got that right.” can be heard. SND returns to the mic “Take a gander, everyone. Even Yumao-kun is already sweating as well. This sparkly sweat of ours.. We will try to deliver you guys our sweat at the highest quality we can offer, deliver it as much as possible.” While SND is talking Yumao makes signs, such as 2 fingers up, towards the staff. “Well then, let’s chug along. Enjoy the show everyone.” Namid[A]me ＊There’s bubble popping sound effects in the intro now! Yumao is in charge of this, see his MacBook + mixer (+ a handy setlist printout) setup on the table beside him. All with a music program open primed and ready... Right before the song you can even see Yumao click his computer as well!

＊ Yumao sings backup vocals, the whole chorus has his deep voice echoing. The small amount of notes are so concise and moody live... ＊ SND tops the outro off with a “Wasshoi!” Garandou Mae Zero Banchi ＊ Melodramatic piano bit added before the intro. I wonder where this was sampled from... It sounds like SND uses his stereo chorus pedal for his part as well. Shinoda “Thank you.”

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “Uhm.. At the end of our previous live stream I had said ‘Next time we meet will be at the concert hall.’. Sorry, that was a lie... We’re meeting at a live stream yet again. We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” Yumao taps his cymbals gently to create the classic concert mood starter sound. SND “That, that’s good! That’s the stuff! That’s the stuff. Without that stuff I feel the silence responding to me.” He motions at the empty auditorium. “That stuff’s nice, nice. I guess ‘cause, y’know. ‘Cause you two have already been y’know. Performing in front of people.” Yumao, hits his cymbal, cue a “Bwaa~n” sound. SND “You can fool me with that shit. No ‘Bwaa~n’ will work on me. You had 2 whole opportunities in a row, yesterday and the day before.” (Referring to Yumao’s appearance in Touyama Nao’s anniversary concerts.) Yumao hits his cymbal yet again, cue a “Shwaaan” noise. SND scoffs “What a kind and swe~et reaction.” SND “I’m the only one. The only one here who hasn’t stood up in front of people. My only upcoming chance will be at ‘Countdown Japan’, at the end of the year. Then in January I’ll be doing our limited fan club concert at Shibuya WWX. Back to back. What the hell is up with this year? What the hell, huh? Huh!!!” SND playfully pounces in Yumao’s direction. Yumao hits his cymbal again. “You’re saving my butt with that. Thanks, truly. Alright. From here on I’m to bring you a few songs without a guitar, only a mic in my hands.” Yumao “1, 2, 3, 4” SLEEPWALK ＊ SND gets on his knees and wiggles to walk on the floor during music breaks, is he imitating a sleepwalker.. ＊ Ygarshy presses a pedal right after every song ends, presumably his tuner, to mute and prevent static. He strums and slaps with his fingers, no pick, for every song. SND “2020 is slowly nearing its end, but, what’s everyone’s opinion on love?” Loveless ＊BONK

＊ Includes Shinoda flopping around on the floor, squatting like a yakuza, and an outro with SND and yg having a mini string instrument battle! They huddle together! Yumao pounds away! Gekijougai ＊ Additional nebulous intro. ＊ Yumao is really worked to the bone in this banger! Featuring yet another more intense battle between yg and SND. SND “Alrighty! Ah. Where are y’all now? Where are y’all right now? It doesn’t matter where you are, just dance along to Talkie Dance!” Talkie Dance ＊ During the riff breaks SND chants Soi! Yoisa! Soi! Hoisa!” Like wasshoi, these are traditional shouts primarily used by O-mikoshi carriers in JP festivals! SND really seems to enjoy using old-fashioned words in a stylish way. SND “Upon this ending year, this one is with love from wowaka!” Unknown Mother Goose “Sing along with me!” ＊ Per usual, Yumao and ygarshy both pitch in for the ‘Oh oh oh’ harmonies. “Sing, please!” ＊ The background vocals in the Unknown Mother Goose are also confirmed by the man himself to be “Give me love”. He had responded to someone with “Oh! You’re sharp!” when asked about it!

Intermissional MC

“Are y’all having fun? Me, I can’t stop sweating. Help me. I can’t stop sweaaating.” SND changes to a high tone voice, “Ah~ This is awesomeee. Methinks this is awesome but, but I gotta say, I’m the only one here who hasn’t had a chance to perform in front of people, no kap.” He returns to his normal tone. “I hold a grudge. I’m always the only one being fucking left outtt. I can't let go of my grudge.

At least look me in the eyes, guys. Ah, whatever. On New Year's Eve I’m gonna appear in Countdown Japan, I’m gonna! ...What does it feel like anyway, performing in front of people? What does it feel like, may I ask you fine young gentleman?” SND’s voice turns to demonic. “Oiiii. Don’t just fucking nod at me. Don’t make up some new common language. You’re over there using no words, bitch.” His voice returns to normal. “Well, whatever. Enough of that. It’s no use staying jealous forever.” Yumao taps his cymbals... “Don’t just fucking ‘clang clang’ either!” Yumao laughs. “You laughed, you laughed! You laugh: you lose, you!”, they all smile. “Uhm... On December 31st, New Year's Eve, we’ll be at Countdown Japan. Please come if you can, hope to see you there. Now then! Next year, I’m talking about next year, it will be the 7th year anniversary of our major debut. In celebration, and to kick off the new year, we have booked Roppongi’s EX Theater for two days, January 21st and 22nd,. This is all I can say for now. Details will be announced later. ...Now let me drink some water.” ygarshy is all done tuning and at attention. Yumao keeps making cymbal sounds to fill the empty space. “I... Today, here, is uhm, Yokohama’s Bay Hall. It’s the place where ‘Swallowtail’ was filmed. When we arrived this afternoon I saw the windows and practically screamed. It’s Yen Town Band! It’s where Glico sang ‘My Way’! I alone was freaking out. Noone was on board with me.. I’m all alone, yet again.... The camera zooms in on Yumao, “Don’t just smile! Don't just smile at me With that said. Our 7th anniversary hits next year! So, here is our very first song, which represents our beginning....” Karanowaremono Ao ＊ Many emotional spotlights.

Intermissional MC

SND “At long last, this time has come. Huh! Mister Yumao-san!” SND glares at him. “Perhaps I may revel in a sip of water as well. A sip of water!! ... By the way what time is it? Yumao, in reporter voice “It is currently eight thirty seven.” SND “I see, it’s eight thirty seven. That's crazy. So today, our new song released, as you folks may know. Our new song called curved edge was released. Did you give it a listen? If you haven’t then please do, but also, the music video for the song will be public today at 22 o’ clock, please enjoy it. That’s the immediate future. But let’s talk about the faaar future.... On February 17th will a new album be released. We made an album. curved edge is a song written by me, and naturally it will be included in the album as well but, that’s not all.” He wags his finger towards the others, “This wiggly windy head of brown-colored hair and, this other wiggly windy head of black-colored hair have even each written a song for it as well. The title is R-E-A-M-P, REAMP. To be released on February 17th. Keep your eyes peeled.” he tapped his temple as he said this, “Please!” Ygarshy bows. “Ahhh, we made it!” Shinoda starts coughing, “Excuse me. Coughing without covering my mouth is not good. I'll be careful. Ah, I’m so nervous. I’ve grown nervous this far in. Alright, this next one will be the final song. Thank you so much for bearing with us. We are Hitorie. As farewell, here is our new song. curved edge.

Text:

I have also written up the original Japanese quotes! Thank you Tamagotoji for the huge help! ORZ For those looking to follow along with the concert, or learn new words from them, or enjoy!! Please enjoy!

https://www.evernote.com/l/AolVRKvLGRpFN6l0MApPe5xuRXQOI4kFeTg

Bonus tech lore

Disclaimer: Only old photos exist of their pedalboards exist, as the cameramen did a fine job of concealing them. Since there’s no new evidence of change, I’ll assume these old findings will serve as foundation for their current setups as well!

#hitorie #ヒトリエ

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cozycryptidcorner · 5 years ago

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Chapter One

Notes: Hey hey hey hey! For those who don’t know, this is a celebration of ya girl hitting 1.5k followers! You all spoke, and I listened, so buckle up, pals, and come get ya’ll’s juice.

The air of the ship is remarkably sterile, every breath of it almost flushes your lungs free of living cells, and a bleach-like taste has long settled on the back of your tongue, one you haven’t been able to wash out. A water bottle sits on the polished table in front of you, one that boasts its source is an underground spring on a relatively untouched planet, definitely something far out of your price range and would never accept unless given for free. The ship rattles briefly as the inertial dampeners compensate for a sudden source of gravity, though so subtle that the water in the biodegradable plastic trembles only slightly.

“That means we’ve hit Lolth’s atmosphere.” A Starward Matchmakers™ representative smiles, her teeth too white and her mouth too wide. Her tone somehow converges on every single nerve you have in your body.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But you should maybe put a damper on that attitude of yours, the royal family isn’t known for putting up with sass.”

Oh, you want to punch her in that perfectly crafted nose. Biting your lip down, you try to focus on the shift of gravity, the artificial pull slowly dying as a planet’s natural force takes hold. The slow descent feels like forever, the lack of windows in your cabin only torturing you further. You wish you could be up in the cockpit, strapped into the captain’s chair, completely in control, but no. It wouldn’t be proper. Finally, another attendant pokes their head through the open door, announcing the finished landing.

Before you stand, the representative grabs your hand in an ironlike grip. “Remember; grace, poise, elegance. Not someone of your reputation.” She is far stronger than someone of her skinny frame can manage without modifications. Even when you nod, she doesn’t immediately let go, most likely in the hopes that prolonging this threat might actually put some fear into your soul.

You pull away, eyeing her in a challenge, and after a moment too long, she relents. Calmly, you pick up the personal bag you were allowed to bring and leave the cabin, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative on your heels. The unmistakable scent of ‘natural’ air hits your nostrils, like a balming relief against a day-old burn, and you try to pick up your pace down the thin row of cabins and out into the open. It’s hot, far hotter than you are used to, a dry breeze doing nothing to relieve your already sweating skin. A dull hum permeates the cavernous space, the engines of your ship still in the process of a complete shut-down. At the very foot of the stairway is a tall humanoid, gray in complexion, silky white hair blowing out like thin spider webs.

“Mistress,” he says, bowing first to you, then to the representative. “Allow me to welcome you and your entourage to our lovely planet. The keias is beside himself with excitement to finally meet his soulmate.”

“Thank you!” Manners matter, you think, eyes flickering overhead to where two slabs of metal slowly shut a dangerous atmosphere away from the underground’s inhabitants. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pinches your arm in a location no one beneath you would see in the way of a prompt. “And- it will be my honor to meet them, sir.”

“Of course, please, follow me. Your things will be taken to an apartment while a more, er, permanent solution will be found.”

“I understand, thank you.” You take one step down on the polished, faux marble steps of the ship, then take a pause. Perhaps it goes unnoticeable by others since it only lasts a fraction of a moment. Am I really doing this, you wonder in that second, looking at the hard stone floor of the hangar, is this who I am, really? It passes, and you continue downwards, the question left unanswered. You fold your hands, nails digging against knuckles, and follow the Drow escort through the unbearably warm cavern.

There’s a warbling pattern in the stone, one that holds your attention for a minute too long and has the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gently kick at your heel. Head up, you can almost hear her voice in your head, and so you do, obediently, and try focusing on some other things noticeable at this position. For example, while there are other ships in the hangar, not too many, but the quality of each is unquestionable. All of them are sleek, shining, and shaped in the typical ornamental fashion that Abraxas Corporations has long since patented, each number that you see painted on the sides showing that the oldest model is only a single year out of the factory. A fantastical waste of money, in your humble opinion, but you don’t dare verbalize it right now.

The drow attendant leads you to a tunnel, one dimly lit by hazy blue lights lining the floor, and the temperature becomes just slightly more bearable. While the stone you walk on is smoother than those fancy ships outside, the walls and ceiling are rawer, bumps and crevices creating a sort of texture that at least gives you something fascinating to look at until the drow attendant opens a metallic door embedded into the rock. It’s a station, you think, with a train or trolley of some kind waiting against the wall. The doors part the moment you are within range, and finally- finally, a blast of cooler air soothes your skin, your entire body relaxing under the blissful relief of air conditioning.

“Have a seat wherever you’d like, my lady.”

Oh! The attendant is talking to you. With a small mutter of thanks, you take one of the cushioned benches by the window, staring at the glass, trying to see past your reflection and back into the tunnel. The ride isn’t that long, at least, in comparison to the time it took to get from a deep-space station to planetside, but the nervous anticipation makes it seem like another eternity. You are already standing up to get out, though you step to the side for your guide to go first.

You wouldn’t call this place bustling, unlike some of the previous stops your ‘entourage’ has ended up at. The people who do occupy the area aren’t in any kind of hurry, either, but are merely wandering to their destination at a leisurely pace. And, unfortunately, the moment you are seen, all eyes seem to fall on you like a bug beneath a microscope. Which, you suppose, is a funny kind of metaphor to use given the species and circumstances, but even so, you walk through the hub with your head held high and your posture perfectly straight, just as practiced only a few days before. A far cry from the slinking and prowling that you are used to, that’s for sure.

The three of you walk all the way to the other side of this terminal, towards a gilded set of elevators, all of which are guarded by another drow. Your own drow attendant slips a key card from his pocket, sliding it through a reader, and the machine beeps in confirmation. The ground rises rapidly, as the tube you stand in lowers, going down, deep into the depths of the planet, rocks surrounding the glass until the tunnel empties into a cavern more massive than the city you hail from, buildings built into what is left of a long-extinct forest from the planet’s distant past. Flickering lights of homes and offices could almost fool you into thinking them to be stars, but you know better. Still, it might be nice to look at something and pretend you aren’t buried under a couple of kilometers of rock.

The elevator zooms past and beneath the central part of the city, moving further down into the natural lava tunnels of a long-inactive violent core. The royalty of the world lives deeper from the surface, probably for the better air conditioning, you’d gander, or some sort of reigning mythology about how they’re closer to their planet/god(s) this way. You hadn’t really had the time to pour over every little detail of this world’s history and lore, since literally four days ago, the royalty of Lolth was the last thing on your mind.

Eventually, the flawless glass doors open, and you are let out into a garden of sorts. There is grass, at least, you think it’s grass, lining either side of the stone pathway, flowers sprouting in areas that are easy to listlessly meander around. Bioluminescent mushrooms and moss grow along the cavern walls and pathway, though rustic-looking lampposts help to light your way every couple of meters. There, up ahead, you realize as you try to document just how far the lanterns go, someone is already walking towards you. Could it be him? Your body fills with anxiety, your fight instincts gearing up to, you don’t know, pretend to cower?

“Is this it?” A voice asks, and you are already confident that you hate this person. ‘Overbearing’Condescending would be a nice way to describe their tone, but you would take it a step further and maybe say it’s condescending and maybe even bastardly for good flavor.

“Yes, Vice Martial,” the drow attendant bows deeply. “As much as I am certain the two of you would appreciate introductions, I’m afraid the keias was very specific about the immediate transportation she would take to his presence. I’m afraid we are already running short on time.”

“Be silent, I gave you no permission to speak.” The Vice Martial’s eight legs click, click, click against the ground as he approaches, eyes narrowing. “I was against this ridiculous farse from the start, and to have something so small, so pitiful, dare enter our home and live off of our land like a parasite?” He leans in closer, so close you can smell alcohol on his breath. “Unacceptable.”

Show no fear, have no weakness.

“Of course, you have your apprehensions!” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pulls a glossy brochure out of seemingly nowhere, her grin vast and terrifying, her voice the epitome of perfectly perky customer service. “Anyone daring to make such a big decision should be terrified! But at Starward Matchmakers™, our focus is to bring a harmonious connection between two destined souls is something we take so very seriously. If our experts have matched the two together, then our girl here is perfect for your prince, excuse me, keias, in every way!”

“I don’t care about what welp that little bastard sleeps with,” the vice marshal snaps, at least now directing his drunken anger to the Starward Matchmaker™ representative, “I care about whether it’s right for Lolth.”

“And those are some very valid fears!” She somehow smiles even wider. “But allow me to put everything to ease. Our satisfaction rate is one-hundred percent, which is nothing less of perfect. The people I represent have no intention of sullying our records now, with this. Do you understand? Of course, you do! Now if you would be so kind as to _excuse us,” _ she grips your arm and shoves her way forward, _ “we have some magic to make!™” _

The vice marshal doesn’t even have a chance to say anything else, because you are suddenly shoved into the entrance of an… apartment? House? The drow attendant and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative stand in front of the closed doors, either to block anyone’s entry or deter you from exiting, you don’t know. Probably both.

“Remember,” the Starward Matchmaker™ representative says, smoothing one of your sleeves of nonexistent wrinkles, “no attitude. No spunky quips. I don’t care how funny you think whatever joke you’re making is, you will be quiet as a dandelion. Show him not the respect you think he deserves, but the respect he thinks he deserves.”

This is all a reiteration of things you have been told over and over and over again, so you resist rolling your eyes. Though, whatever exasperation you feel is quickly gone the moment you see someone beginning to descend from the long, marble stairway. His appearance is the same as the photographs you were shown when they first sat you down, hangover pounding in your bloodstream. His hair is so dark it looks almost black, skin a deep gray with touches of blue. You immediately stand taller, mouth squeezed shut, eyes watching his every move as if he will burst forward and rip you to pieces.

He has a reputation for doing worse.

The clicking of his steps stop as he stands, full height, right in front of you, and you have to tilt your chin upwards just to meet his gaze head-on. Even with the Starward Matchmaker™ representative right in the room, she can’t see your face, so she can’t police your reaction. You don’t give him anything demure, nor submissive. There is no shyness in your eyes, you don’t allow yourself to feel small, and you most certainly refuse to show a smidgen of fear.

“Hello,” you say, and you can practically hear the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s face hit her palm for speaking out of turn.

“Hello,” he responds, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, his pure black seeing-eyes blinking only once, his motion sensors staying blank and still as though dead. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“I- it is an honor to finally meet you as well.” You wince at the formality of this meeting, wishing that the Starward Matchmaker™ representative and drow attendant would just leave the two of you alone, but you know that you will not receive that… how did the Starward Matchmaker™ representative put it… privilege, at least until she can see the relationship is blossoming the way it needs to.

The way they need it to.

“Your planet is beautiful,” compliments always work, and you genuinely mean this one, “I mean, well, I haven’t seen a whole lot of it, but just from the little that I’ve been through, it’s... “you shrug, “really nice.”

“Oh.” He cocks his head the other way, now, a lock of hair the color of the blue-gray stones falling into his face. “I remember, your profile says that you weren’t born on a planet.”

“No,” you shake your head, “but I’ve been planetside a- um, a few times. Humans need real gravity every now and then.”

“Real gravity is good for any ground-species.”

The conversation is going nowhere, clearly, so the Starward Matchmaker™ representative decides that this moment where she cuts in. “If I may, _keias?” _

His face looks over at her in an instant, the movement of his neck so quick it would have cracked if he was human. The prince’s gaze hardens, perhaps unnoticeable by someone of his own species, but easy to note by both you and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative. After a lone, nerve-wracking moment where he observes her like a bug beneath his feet, he offers single, clipped, nod.

“It’s been a very long journey, very much worth it, I am sure, but,” she lays a hand on your arm, and you immediately tense up, “she’s quite tired, and I’m afraid I have to get her squared away for the night. I hope you understand! I’m just here for her wellbeing in such a foreign situation.”

The prince looks at you.

You don’t say anything.

“Of course,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “Elias will bring you to your suite. May I expect you over for an evening meal?”

“We’ll see how she feels.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pets your arm. “This is all so overwhelming for her, I’m sure you understand.”

The prince places both hands behind his back and looks over you, not with the same chilling observation he gave the Starward Matchmaker™, but something... else. Something softer. “I’m sure I will.”

“What in god’s name was _that?” _

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative folds her hands together, looking at you over them with narrowed eyes. “You went off script.”

You offer a listless shrug, looking her in the eye. The lights here, at least, are bright enough for you to see comfortably without needing to strain your eyes. “I just don’t think you can make a decent connection with someone when every permutation has been desperately thought out.”

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “You aren’t here to be yourself, you’re here to do a gosh-darn job. This isn’t all rainbows and puppies, I thought you understood how serious this business is.”

“I do.”

“It doesn’t look like it, honey! What made you think that acting like some bland little twat was a good idea?”

You sit down on one of the plush, oddly misshapen chair, glaring at the wall while the Starward Matchmaker™ representative goes on a tirade. The room is large, the ceiling far higher than most places you’ve ended up in, and this isn’t even the full extent of your suite. You get a room, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gets a room, a personal servant the royal family is providing gets a room, and for whatever reason, a whole extra bedroom, wholly unused, just down the hall from yours. For any guests, the drow attendant had said, but there is no one you can think of hosting at the moment.

Oh, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative looks like she’s tiring herself out. Better start nodding in agreement to whatever else she says.

“Good,” she, at least, seems satisfied. “I’m glad we’ve had this little chat, then. Hurry and wash up, then, we want you to look presentable tonight.”

So you are going to dinner. You sit up a little straighter, then bounce off the chair and into your room. There’s an adjacent bathroom, with a dress already hanging up by the mirror, a gray, fluttery thing that will ripple easily with movement. Color doesn’t really matter down here, you remember, poking at all the dull jewelry and makeup, driders and drows can’t process the light spectrum as well as humans. What they can sense, though, is movement, so clothes that shift and float with the slightest gesture are the ones that are worn to show off. Still, putting something on that’s basically the equivalent of neon orange feels like putting a target on your back.

Shower first. Think later. It’s real water, too, and not those sonic frequencies that knock dirt from pores or those sanisaunas ™ that disinfect the day’s grit away with nothing more than hazy steam. Today, though, you can’t take your time, and you are too hyped up to stay under the water’s stream for too long, no matter how blissful it feels. The soap has some kind of deep earthy scent, not one that you might select for yourself, but one you aren’t abhorrent towards. It works a nice lather against your skin, though the bar slips from your clumsy fingers since you aren’t exactly used to scrubbing the good old fashioned way.

There’s a towel waiting for you, hanging up against the rack. It’s the first thing in this place you’ve seen that’s white, even the glossy marble and metalwork of the whole suite, including the bathroom, are various shades of gray and black. Which isn’t to say that it looks terrible, because this is sincerely the most beautiful place you’ve ever managed to score, it’s just… odd, you think, that the towels are white, as though they were purchased and placed here with you in mind. You wrap it around your body, stepping out, and taking a moment to stand in front of a mirror. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, crescents of exhaustion that beg you to take a moment or two just to sleep.

You get dressed, instead. The gown is at least designed to look more complicated than it really is, and you manage to get it on by yourself. The zipper slides up your back with a bit of ease, then you smooth down the tight bodice, noticing only now how badly your hands are shaking. Your mouth tastes dry, and perhaps the unnatural ashy paleness of your skin truly brings out the grayness around your eyes. The wall is cool against your back as you lean back, sliding down to sit on the hard floor, placing your forehead against your knees.

Breathe.

It’s hard, thinking about having to eat dinner with him later. It’s hard to think about him in general, and to have him matched as your soulmate? You’ve always known these things are farces, of political or corporate gain, and now you dig your heels into the ground of that belief and hold it closer.

The door knocks with a volume and efficiency only the last person you wish to see at the moment possesses. “Time to go, sugar! We can’t have the prince waiting, can we?”

It takes a wobbling moment for you to stand, hand braced up against the wall, but you somehow manage it. Throwing up a facade of calmness that you haven’t felt since you were hauled into that interrogation room five days ago, you open the door. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds out a box, the lid already off to reveal a glittering pair of shoes. Not high heels, thank the gods, you don’t know how you would pull together the energy to fight her on that. It’s pair of flats, a pattern of shattered glass decorating the outside, the inside surprisingly comfortable to what anyone would assume by looking them over.

You put them on, holding on one of the chairs for balance, and take a few experimental steps. It’s decent enough, but even with thousands of years to perfect the art of shoes, it still takes a couple of good hours to break even the best of pairs in. With a small sigh, you shift the weight between your toes and heels, already feeling where those blisters are going to end up forming, but there isn’t really anything you can do about it. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative isn’t going to let you wear your old but comfy combat boots if she can help it, you’ve had to smuggle them in the very bottom of your luggage and bribe an inspector to keep quiet about it.

After a moment of watching your movements with a fixated grace that you’ve long since gotten used to, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative sighs, tucking a piece of perfectly blond hair behind her hair. “Not what we all wanted, I’m sure, but it will do.”

Pressing your lips together, you don’t risk rolling your eyes lest she suddenly decides that you are far too tired to dine with the prince tonight. You don’t wish to be stuck in the suite with her for another night, you’ll go crazy, and you can’t have the prince catching wind of any violence on your part.

“Now, remember; healthy appetite.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative comes up behind you, playing with your still-damp hair, twisting it into something you’re sure is attractive to the driders. “There is no such thing as ‘ladylike’ here, but you must prove that you’ll be able to produce good and healthy heirs.”

You wrinkle your nose, but don’t respond.

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative tugs at your roots, causing your eyes to tear up. “And whatever you do,” her voice is low, threatening, “I will be watching. Every movement, every breath, every bite of food you dare to take. If you so much as twitch in a way I don’t like,” she pushes a pin through whatever she sculpted, taking no care to be wary of your scalp, “you will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Her voice turns back to that sickening cheerfulness that makes you want to wring her neck. “Turn around.”

You obey, hands flat at your sides.

“Oh,” Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds a hand over her mouth, “you look beautiful, honey! Just so,” she fans herself with her fingers, “marvelous. You’ve come such a long way in such a short time!”

You say nothing.

Read Chapter Two Here

#exophilia #male drider #drider/human #drider/reader #monster/reader #monster lovers #drider x reader #monster x reader #female reader

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neworlddetoxcentre · 4 years ago

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The Ultimate Holiday Gift Guide for People in Recovery

Do you have a companion or relative in recuperation? Would you like to get them a blessing that won't just show the amount you uphold their choice to get perfect and calm, yet in addition assist them with reinforcing their recuperation? All things considered, look no further! Neworld Detox Centre asked the recuperation network, from experts to those in recuperation themselves, what the ideal recuperation blessing would be and arranged their reactions into this helpful shopping guide.

Here are some recuperation blessing thoughts that your cherished one makes certain to adore:

Endowments of Positive Affirmation

Calm AF Mug

Join your cherished one's commitment to their recuperation and their adoration for espresso with this fun Sober AF cup. This shameless blessing will tell everybody around them how pleased your cherished one is to be in recuperation. All things considered, balance is something that should be grasped and celebrated — much like a decent cup of Joe. On the off chance that you need to make the blessing additional extraordinary, you can modify it with your adored one's balance date.

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Tranquility Prayer Water Bottle:

On the off chance that your companion or relative follows a 12 Step program, at that point they know about the peacefulness supplication – a mantra used to advance versatility and energy. With this water bottle, you can help remind your cherished one to "acknowledge the things they can't change, and change the things they can" consistently, assisting with engaging them in confronting the difficulties that lie ahead. A reusable water bottle is additionally a simple and helpful approach to drink more water, which is fundamental to a healthy brain and body.

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Recuperation Jewelry

Is it true that you are searching for an adorable and important blessing that not just fills in as an every day token of your cherished one's excursion yet in addition gives motivation? Assuming this is the case, consider gifting them a jewelry or wristband engraved with a recuperation message. This is an incredible, in vogue route for them to straightforwardly praise their recuperation, and perhaps move others to look for help. There are a few alternatives accessible, however top picks in the network incorporate "Each Day In turn" and Serenity Prayer adornments.

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Presents for Rest and Relaxation at Home

Tabletop games

It can here and there be trying for individuals who are new to recuperation to locate another recreation action to supplant the one that can cause a possible backslide. Prepackaged games are an extraordinary path for your cherished one to assemble loved ones (face to face or on Zoom) and loosen up. In the event that you need your blessing to be additional extraordinary, plan a customary game night, so they have a consistent responsibility of protected and calm enjoyable to anticipate. All things considered, is there anything better than a night gone through with friends and family, tabletop games, and pizza?

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Fragrant healing Shower Steamers

Something beyond great cleanliness, showers offer us the chance to squeeze stop on our general surroundings and feel invigorated. Something that can help with accomplishing this inclination are fragrance based treatment shower liners, the shower's response to shower bombs. The steam that this item delivers will give your adored one a feeling of care that would be valuable for somebody in recuperation.

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Weighted Blanket

Weighted covers have picked up prominence over ongoing years, and in light of current circumstances — they're astonishing! They help diminish uneasiness and stress, improve rest quality, support disposition, and calm manifestations of PTSD (which is regular among those in recuperation). Thus, in the event that you need to blessing your adored one what might be compared to a major, warm, and soothing embrace, look no farther than a weighted cover. Need to blessing them a total unwinding bundle? Toss in some fluffy socks and a decent book.

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Presents for Fitness and Self-Care

Yoga Mat

With 2020 indicating us that you can't underestimating anything, a yoga tangle can promise you that you will consistently have a space to get your wellness on. Regardless of what your standard routine is, practice is an extraordinary method to give your psychological well-being a lift, particularly for somebody in recuperation. The excellence of this blessing is its flexibility, which can help the beneficiary meet their wellness objectives.

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Hands-Free Dog Leash

This may seem like an odd blessing yet listen to us. On the off chance that a pandemic won't prevent your cherished one from strolling their canine, why not assistance them perform various tasks by giving them an exercise? By supplanting the chain handle with a flexible belt that can be worn around their abdomen, a sans hands canine rope permits the client to have a more charming walk or run with their hairy companion. Shock your companion or relative with a blessing that they can impart to their four-legged companion.

You can locate the included blessing here.

Pressure point massage Mat

Finding an opportunity to loosen up and decompress from the day's stressors is basic for everybody, particularly for people in recuperation. With proficient back rubs being required to be postponed, your cherished one can profit by your innovative blessing giving. A pressure point massage tangle will address the pieces of their body that convey the most pressure. This thing can give them a superior night's rest and more energy for the following day. Consider sending them a blessing that will stand apart from the rest!

We suggest this one.

Endowments that Keep Coming

Fit Lifestyle Box

For a friend or family member that likes to develop mental and actual fortitude through wellness, this is the case for them. Each container comes stuffed with energy-boosting snacks, sports drinks, a multi day challenge, and a rousing shirt. Boxes are customized to sexual orientation and offered in three topics: Get Lean, Get Strong, and Stay Fit.

You can locate the included health box here.

TheraBox

Give your adored one the endowment of bliss consistently with a Therabox membership. Every one of these self-care boxes incorporate one feel better, mind-set boosting movement and six to eight wellbeing things to help diminish pressure and advance satisfaction. The best part? The crates are curated by advisors who are enthusiastic about assisting clients structure positive neural associations with building a more joyful life.

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Hygee Box

On the off chance that you could place comfort and euphoria in a case, it would seem as though a Hygge Box membership. This membership box centers around aiding your cherished one lull, interface with others, and grasp the easily overlooked details. There are two levels, however both incorporate hand-picked things from around the globe, lights or candles, hot beverages, and guilty pleasures, for example, bread rolls or chocolate.

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