#that makes literally everything else make sense

[quicksilverblue]

Sorry to add on here, but this wouldn't make sense separately.

I have always loved Eowyn. Long before I had really experienced despair or what it meant to be doomed by the narrative. There was something about her that resonated on a soul level that I could not have explained when I was young. I probably would have just said it was because "sword horse girl!"

But I realized something today as I was reflecting on the past two days.

In class on Wednesday, I led the students in a discussion about Tillich. On Monday, we'll discuss Bonhoeffer.

I did not plan for these two readings because of Tuesday. They fell where they always fall on the schedule. The timing just worked out.

I love Bonhoeffer, but I always feel guilty when I read him. He literally gave everything to fight oppression. I'm afraid to go too far because of my situation.

I jokingly told one class that Bonhoeffer is goals except for the getting executed part.

And then I lay in bed trying to figure out what more I can do. Wondering if it is soon time to risk everything. Even if it means my safety, well being, or life.

A colleague has heard me before express my doubt that I am doing enough. That I so often think that I am the collaborator by my silence. This colleague is a scholar in resistance movements. I ran in him today, and he stopped what he was doing to tell me not to despair. To not let them win. That that's what they want. They aren't good enough, they don't deserve my despair.

And I said I'm trying not to. That I'm trying to figure out how I can be more for the community. Be more of a helper.

And wow, did he jump on that. He reminded me you can't help unless you help yourself. As someone else put it, the whole air bag airplane thing.

But he took it further. He told me of activists who died, not because they crossed the oppressor and were executed, but because they gave so much for the fight that they didn't take care of themselves. The fight lost them because they gave too much too fast.

And that hit harder than anything.

Later, I was reflecting on that and thought of this post.

And I realized, that's what I was doing. Planning for a quick death in battle rather than the drawn out doom despair was whispering in my ear.

So I am trying to go to the Houses of Healing before I'm overcome by the Black Breath and need to be called back.

Maybe others need to hear that too.

I do love that you can see the influence of Tolkien meaning for Eowyn to die throughout her arc. That girl just screams "doomed by the narrative". She's set up for this grand yet tragic death, and wants for nothing else than a grand exit and a glorious end to all things.

But having her live is so much more interesting. And having her live to find happiness especially. She seems like a tragic character. She thinks herself a tragic character. She is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness. Her narrative is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness.

But she isn't doomed.

Turns out, decent healthcare, clued in and concerned family members, and a decent support base, go a long towards towards un-dooming her narrative.

[iwritethingssometimes]

I'm seeing some posting about a feeling of fishiness about the recently completed US Election.

In the attempt to do something more productive than my last post, I'm gonna do an adhoc examination of how feasible I think a "rigged election" actually is, looking at a few methods that could have been used. So, to start with, what is the actual evidence here?

Most of it is... honestly vibes based, which I get, but don't put a lot of stock in, There was a lot of energy around the Harris campaign, and she had some good polls, but Donald Trump has proved nothing else in the past fucking decade, its that the polls literally do not matter for him, and he can outperform them by a hundred miles.

But. There's also some numbers.

None of this has been verified yet, and I want to make that clear, but this year has largely reported record turnout in a ton of states, especially the swing states, and yet, so far.

The number of votes seems much lower this year.

Not republican votes, not democrat votes, all votes. Hell, third party voting collapsed this year--whatever else you take from this election, this was not a case of the left splitting the vote.

Now, it's true that the vote count hasn't been completed, and it's possible that the numbers will make more sense once that's done. It's also true that the states didn't have quite the same turn-out as last year... but it was only a percentage point or two lower.

Add that to the frequent postings about people having their ballots rejected for... questionable reasons, and.

Well. It starts going from a "the moon is fake!" conspiracy to "Epstein had sex slaves" conspiracy.

But, okay, is it even possible for Trump to have faked the vote like this? People talked about it, but it was mostly in terms of legal challenges trying to overturn a Harris victory, or pulling in the supreme court to decide narrow districts. This, by all accounts, seems to be a straight forward Trump sweep.

So if there is shenanigans afoot, how could he have done it?

There's three feasible(ish) pathways, in my opinion:

Voter suppression and manipulation pre-ballot: Yeah this happened. It's also irrelevant to any possibility that the vote counts were tampered with. Look, this election was flooded with misinformation, legal suits, court cases, and election officials doing everything in their power to fuck with people's right to vote. It was filled with ballot boxes being lit on fire. Elon Musk did a fucking paid vote scheme! Of course there was voter suppression! But there always is, and although it was worse this year than many others, it wouldn't cause any numerical mismatch between turn out and votes, and there's not much that can be done now for this election. Even if someone voted because Musk slipped them $100, no court will ever be able to prove they didn't just happen upon $100 bucks and then voted for Trump.

Voting machines were manipulated: A few hours ago I would have said this was practically impossible, but apparently a bunch of election officials and cyber-security experts were sounding the alarm about this a few months ago, so, uh. That being said, I've seen people claiming that Starlink or whatever hacked voting machines, and no. No, Starlink did not hack voting machines. No one "hacked" voting machines. They weren't connected to the internet, or any wireless communication systems, because anyone with any degree of cybersecurity knowledge will tell you that's how you create an insecure system. Now, it's not impossible, technically speaking, than Elon Musk or fucking Russia managed to hire engineers and somehow bribe enough officals to get access to the machines and install hardware that would allow external access, but in that case we live in a Bond movie and somehow have bigger problems. So, if the voting machines themselves were compromised in any technological way, it would have required direct, physical access, which should be basically impossible, unless...

Ballot officials fucked with the vote This is the one I think is plausible. Basically, in this case, what could have happened is that various election officials at different levels of the process more or less lied about the vote count. This could have happened in a lot of different ways--they could have found reasons to reject mail-in ballots, which several states attempted to make legal, they could have found reasons to reject in-person ballots, which several states attempted to make legal. They could have, if the corruption ran deep enough to make this feasible, just... not counted or reported votes that swung for Harris. They could have, if the election machines work similar to the ones up here in BC, seen the results from the machines, then called the central election office over the phone--because remember, the ballot boxes should not be connected to anything. I don't know. There's a lot of options, and it varies from state to state, because remember, each state runs their own elections, and has their own rules and procedures.

So yeah, three explanations, only one of which is really plausible.

Now, I want to be clear, I don't think this election was fraudulent. Not yet, at least, I need to see actual evidence, or this is nothing more than a theory, but I also want to be clear.

...3 makes sense.

3 would explain why urban areas seemed to be underrepresented in this election, while rural areas surged. 3 would explain a discrepancy between voter turn out and votes counted. 3 would fit the strategy Trump and MAGA loyalists have been describing for the last four years, of infiltrating the election machinery and manipulating it to their own ends.

So I'm not saying it's likely that Trump fucked with the vote, not without evidence. Not yet.

But I will say this looks a hell of a lot more plausible than any claims made in the aftermath of the 2020 election.

[wildmelon]

things that are bothering me the most:

antaam stuff makes no sense, full stop. it's also explained poorly/insufficiently.

most of what we see of rivain is completely uninhabited. i also don't care about more warden shit there, i was looking forward to more lore on rivaini people and culture, especially the seers obviously, we've been dying to know more about them for three games.

every elf we've met is ok with the huge revelations that their gods aren't what they seemed and this process happened offscreen. i would think there would be many different reactions to the spread of info about the evanuris, and i would think it would be extremely important to make it clear that info had spread pre-game.

the venatori are the same nonsensical vague useless boring cult with the most nothing goals. as incredibly lame as they are, it's even stretching my suspension of disbelief that they'd serve elven gods for vague promises of 'power' given tevinter's extreme history with the elves. i would think this would come up at least one single time.

the past two points are part of an overarching issue. the contentious and complex political landscape of thedas that makes the setting interesting feels flat. i'm supposed to believe NO ONE in super-elf-racist tevinter would blame the elves for their gods terrorizing thedas? even inquisition acknowledged this, w solas/inky showing concern that revealing the orb was elven would lead to elf racism.

i'm supposed to believe NO elves who've been oppressed by humans for centuries would think 'fuck them' and join up? what happened to the elves who joined solas at the end of trespasser when they heard he was trying to bring back their empire? at least inquisition had wacky cults for every side.

walking down the street in minrathous as an elf or qunari with no difference is simply absurd, i would literally rather never visit tevinter if they were going to implement it so toothlessly. where is the immediate opinion hit for being a mage/elf the inky takes in orlais???

yes the tone is off and a little shallow. yes the companions communicate too healthily for my tastes. yes i was dreading 'evanuris are behind everything' lore reveals and that's what we got. but i honestly think i could overlook those things if the above problems were solved and it felt like the same immersive, problematic thedas.

i'm so completely infuriated by the worldstate choices i'm going to make a separate post about it. but yeah i was concerned but made no noise, i was willing to wait it out and see how the three choices played out in game. and it's absolutely ridiculous that so far two out of fucking three have basically no impact, and the last one idgaf about unless inky romanced solas. i'm so so so so mad and disappointed about this, especially after staying open-minded when it was initially revealed.

everyone loves companion quests, so i don't know why the game feels like it needs to sell you on their significance. why did we get two different scenes of varric spelling it out to rook: do the companion side quests, or else they won't be able to focus! it's such a weird and superfluous tie-in. i don't get why they went so out of their way to clarify this when it didn't need to be clarified, companion side quests are expected in rpgs and their relevance to the plot is very easily accepted/overlooked.

[sparklesandlaughter]

I find this to be a very reductive take that doesn't take into account how much Americans hate Black Women. She could've run a perfect campaign, and they still wouldn't have voted for her. Because she is a woman and because she is a Black woman.

It NEVER should have been close even with blunders she made. NEVER! This man told people for years how he was going to take women's right away, trans and lgbtq+ rights away, make life hell for immigrants, is a literal felon, is a rapist and much more worst things i can't even remember because this asshole does something evil every week. She was never going to win even if she was perfect. This was never about morals or policy because the choice couldn't have been clearer. There's no excuse for this bullshit. You don't have to love everything she stands for or agree with everything she does, but when given the choice between Kamala and Trump, the best choice could not be clearer. I'm tired of people saying it was the messaging because anyone with any iota of common sense could see she is the better, more intelligent, better qualified, better prepared candidate. If you voted for trump instead of her, you were always going to no matter what she campaigned on.

And to be honest Democrats have won on the "I'll be tougher on crime" strategy for years.

It's because she's a woman, and that man runs a cult. They think they're better than everyone because they're part of this special club of people who don't take handouts, who work hard and deserve the world. When really they're the same as everyone else. But to make themselves superior, they hate everyone else. They blame everyone else for the problems in the world instead of digging and actually understanding how things work. Or realizing that they aren't as great or special as they think.

Crazy how kamala Harris had a landslide win guaranteed when she first announced her campaign and then completely fucked herself in every way trying to appeal to republicans and moderates and racists and fascists and genociders and etc. nice job

[xesiarah]

𓏵 Sickly Affection

Yan!Mafia Boss x Reader

Side notes: started ts when I was taking a shit + I wrote this to cure my wattpad loving younger self leave me alone teehee

Summary: You got sick and your hot obsessive macho bomshakalaka mafia boss husband decided to make it everyone's problem 😈

—

—

You've never thought you'd be paying for your sins this early.

It's as if every single opp you've had in life is suddenly granted a free reign to beat the shit out of you.

You're currently bedridden, at this point, basically anticipating death to arrive, to take you out of your misery and drag you to the depths of hell where you'd honestly feel way better in.

Well, would you look at that. Your husband enters the room with a commanding presence, almost making the sickness dissipate from your body. Almost. He gracefully kneels to check your temperature with his hand. His gaze carries a blend of innocent concern you'd think he didn't slaughter individuals for a living. "Are you absolutely certain you're feeling alright? If you need anything else-" you cut him off, looking at him dead in the eyes, literally and figuratively. "I need ibuprofen and a will to fucking live."

Actually, you were never one to fall ill easily; in fact, you're 100% positive you're as healthy as a horse. But on rare occasions, the severity would escalate to the extent that you would be confined to bed for over a week, or even worse, to the point of hospitalization.

Nothing truly scares you; it's just that ever since you started dating Damon, everything began to feel like your mom's most delicate china dishes, one wrong move and this dude's patience will snap just like that. And he's never one to fuck around with. — Especially when it comes to the one he treasures the most.

So, when you did fall sick, Damon is in need of someone to take his anger out on, and naturally, he targets his own men.

Those incompetent little shits. He has always made sure to have his men watch over you, whether it be in public or when you desire a sense of privacy. He ensures they stay out of your sight. A week ago, he granted you permission to go out, under the condition that you were accompanied by at least three proficient bodyguards, strong buff men somehow turned into your little ladies-in-waiting. — Later on, when he found out that the cause of your illness was just fuckass rain, he was furious. And all because the 3 dimwits in charge failed to bring an umbrella, like, has not one of them thought about waltzing into the nearest store to buy one!? Stupid buttfucks. Seriously, you'd assume that with the amount of money he pays them, they would come together hand in hand.. and with the power of friendship! Manifest an umbrella in order to shield you from the rain.

At present, the three men who looked after you are trapped in the confines of his office. The tension is so thick, it's like leather or rope, which Damon himself could use to strangle these wastes of air. "Why do you fuckers think I hired you?" He's menacingly seated at his desk positioned in the center of the spacious room. The men were paralyzed by fear, just like your forgotten cup of soda left in the freezer - completely frozen. "Answer me," he calmly stated, and by "calmly" I mean he's pointing a gun at them and didn't shoot immediately. That's quite peaceful, don't you think?

"Or none of you will survive out here," he added, his tone dripping with hostility. As if he even had the intention of letting that happen in the first place. The moment your temperature spiked was the precise moment these three idiots were declared deceased. "N-none of us thought it was gonna rain-" The taller of the three spoke, making the unfortunate decision to try to reason with the devil's incarnate, — lil bro didn't even have time to regret it because his brains were blown out almost immediately. "You think being prepared isn't part of the job!?" Damon could feel himself age ten fucking years. How stupid can you be!?

"Leave." He gestures with his hand. With a heavy heart, both survivors were relieved to finally leave. But, they weren't able to even take a few more steps out the door when two gunshots struck them in the head. Their dead bodies fall to the floor in a loud thud. "Assholes." He muttered, messaging his temples and turning to his second-in-command, holding the gun. "You have been so kind in granting them a lengthy existence, boss," he remarked with a smile. Without even sparing the dude a glance, Damon mumbled, "I need y/n."

Of course, he does. You're literally the only one who could reduce this life-threatening man into a lovesick puppy.

[chaifootsteps]

So let me get this right, through the HH leaks we find out,

Sir Pentious probably landed in Hell because he was a shut-in who never left his house to give testimony to a crime he witnessed... A problem which had many, many solutions a genius like him could have thought of if the guilt was truly that great including the fact the Police usually interrogates everyone in the area where a crime was committed and his house was literally overlooking the street where it unfolded so he wouldn't have needed to even leave his house to give his own testimony. Or the fact anonymous tips and clues had been given in the past to solve crimes through either mail or a telegram or... Not to mention people can choose to reveal anything they want in their testaments which would have kept them safe but still brought justice upon a criminal in a "better late than never" way.

Anyway, Sir Pentious committed the embodiment of the sin of Sloth in this lifetime... Which is why he lands in the circle of Pride because why have so many circles if all sinners got to Pride regardless of their crimes and their bad deeds in life.

He gets to the HH to seek redemption and, seeing what Charlie's lessons were like to guide him on how to better himself, she never asked what could have possibly gotten him to Hell and found a way to make him grow as a person through that knowledge.

His "redemption" probably happened because, during the showdown against the Exorcists and Adam, Sir Pentious did something brave for once to save the people he now cares about regardless of what could have possibly happened to him... You know.

The HH tenants who did nothing but watch him be dragged into a room at a bar against his will where horrible things were going to happen to him in some kind of twisted role reversal of what he did in his life with Jack the Ripper's first crime.

I didn't expect much out of SP's backstory but this is a moment where on its own it's just... Bad. But with everything else surrounding it ? It's WORSE

There's literally nothing about it that makes sense!

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Plymouth Superbird FAKE

1970 Plymouth Superbird FAKE

1970 Plymouth Superbird FAKE

1970 Plymouth Superbird FAKE

1970 Plymouth Superbird FAKE

1970 Plymouth Superbird Looks Like a Rare Aero Warrior, Don't Look Under the Hood

In 1969, Dodge took NASCAR ovals by storm with the Charger Daytona, a radical race car fitted with a nose cone and a massive rear wing. The following year, Plymouth unleashed the nearly identical Superbird. Both spawned the most wild-looking, road-legal muscle cars of the golden era.

The Charger Daytona is the rarest of the bunch, with only 503 units produced. Plymouth, on the other hand, had to sell nearly 2,000 examples to homologate the Superbird for NASCAR. The latter is a more common sight at local car shows and on the auction block. But that didn't stop enthusiasts from building replicas.

Putting together a Superbird tribute is easy, with so many companies producing accurate nose cones and wings. However, the Superbird is more than just a Road Runner with a pointy front fascia and a massive wing. It requires quite a few extras plus a proper powerplant (most Road Runners were fitted with the 383-cubic-inch V8, which wasn't available in the Superbird).

While some owners go through a laborious process to create an accurate close, others are happy with a Mopar that looks like a Superbird from afar. They simply slap a nose cone and a wing on a Satellite (the Belvedere was no longer available as a two-door hardtop in 1970), and there's nothing wrong with that.

While it may look like a true Superbird from a distance, this Limelight rig is, in fact, a lesser Mopar fitted with "aero warrior" goodies. Whoever built this car also added the correct upper fender scoops and the chrome A-pillars. However, they did not install the correct rear window.

The interior provides more hints that we're not looking at a real-deal Superbird. The dashboard is missing all the gauges, while the center console is entirely different. The steering wheel is incorrect, and everything else points toward a Satellite conversion.

But if you miss the signs inside the cabin, you'll know it's not an authentic Superbird once you look under the hood. This Mopar packs a 318-cubic-inch (5.2-liter) V8. The base V8 in the Satellite at the time, the mill came with 230 horsepower on tap.

As you may already know, the Superbird was not sold with a 318. It came standard with a 440-cubic-inch (7.2-liter) V8 rated at 375 horsepower. The options list included a 440 Six-Barrel (390 horses) and the mighty 426-cubic-inch (7.0-liter) HEMI (425 horsepower).

The engine bay also reveals this Mopar no longer features its factory color. Although painted in Lime Light, the fender tag shows color code FC7, which was used for In-Violet (or Plum Crazy on Dodge cars). The Superbird wasn't available in In-Violet but was offered in FJ5 Limelight, so the repaint makes sense.

Although it's not the most spectacular Superbird conversion out there, this winged Satellite could be an affordable alternative to the real deal. But we will find out more about that when it goes under the hammer on the first weekend of November 2024.

[redvexillum]

OH. MY. STARS. 🌠 This was a wild ride. Holy Smoly. I have words (but like since when do I don't?)

This story took my breath away and spun me right into the underworld of FEELS. It’s like I’m caught in a maelstrom of Alastor’s intense, electrifying allure and the reader's total deer-in-the-headlights horror (or is it excitement?) – I can’t decide which is more delicious! The agonized screams from outside the bar? Perfect setup! Alastor’s nonchalant, scheming aura just simmering under the surface, while he eyes the reader like they’re the last morsel in Hell's buffet… I’m SCREAMING! 😱💀

And let’s talk about that tension. The way Alastor slips out of the shadows, chin barely brushing the reader’s shoulder – my heart almost stopped right there! How does he manage to be so simultaneously terrifying and charming?! And then, BAM, he pulls this innocent “Oh, but wouldn’t you rather avoid the rain?” bit with a sly invitation to his own personal bayou – a setup that is, obviously, a one-way ticket to more trouble than anyone should be able to handle.

AND CHARLIE!!! Sweeping in with that precious encouragement, giving Alastor the perfect excuse to lure the reader in deeper! You just know there’s no escaping his plans once you’re in that swampy paradise of his, especially when he starts calling the reader "Doe." I AM MELTING. 🥵

And those details! The subtle scent cues driving him wild, the way he smells her not-fear but something else entirely—I practically melted with every little hint of his inner struggle not to just devour her. It’s honestly unhinged how much this story plays with both their senses, building tension with every brush of his fingers and shift of his voice into static. His smugness over her denial? Dead. It’s so obvious how hard he’s trying to maintain control, just barely, and that’s exactly why we’re HERE for this devilishly slow burn. 😩🔥

Can we talk about that moment when she tries to deny her attraction, and he just—loses that grin? The way the tentacles (!!!) come into play and his claws trace her skin? It’s so well-paced, we’re practically there with her, barely able to breathe, wanting to keep denying everything while knowing it’s utterly useless. He’s so unrelenting, towering over her, taking her senses one by one, making her every nerve scream. And then that final assault on her last defenses… that kiss, the teasing, the tension and her inevitable fall… I was actually a puddle. 😭💖

OOF AND THEN THE way he teases and denies, and that touch of magic adding layers upon layers to the scene—it's like he’s literally weaving himself into every fibre of their being. Not only are the details here tantalizing, but they are so immersive I could feel each shiver, each restraint, each bit of delicious torment. And don't even get me started on the language in this; it’s positively sinful. Every line had me on edge.

And THAT ending? The fact that after all that pleasure, all that surrender, the reader is just beginning to realize the depth of their bond to Alastor… that they’re now forever his? I am LIVING for it! Pure obsession.

Alastor x FReader.

CW: angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), ropes, bondage, punishment, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, edging overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).

(+ aftercare for 'reader').

Word Count: 9240.

Forever Bound.

The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.

All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.

You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.

Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.

It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.

As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.

Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.

Your attention soul.

Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.

“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.

Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.

You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.

“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.

You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’. However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.

“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin freezes, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind, he almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.

You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.

You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... if not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer might take it upon himself to eject you... right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.

With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating, “that would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand, you are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.

“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.

To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.

You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.

Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him, paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.

You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.

His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.

“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more. If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.

You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.

“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”

You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it, the sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status, choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.

He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.

Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in there, and just how vast it might be... is it some sort of pocket dimension...

He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again, the warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.

“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again, feeling annoyed at your reaction, but he doesn’t let it show.

You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.

So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.

It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.

Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.

You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.

Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.

You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.

As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.

“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.

Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.

You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.

“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”

“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.

“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”

“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone, he hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.

Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.

Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.

Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”

“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.

Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.

“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”

You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.

“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.

“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.

You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.

However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.

“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.

His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.

“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.

Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.

“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”

He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.

You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.

You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.

Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.

You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”

You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.

He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.

Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.

He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.

He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.

His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.

Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.

Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.

He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.

Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.

His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.

Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.

He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.

His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”

You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you can’t comprehend what he’s talking about.

You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.

“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.

“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”

You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.

“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”

“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.

“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”

“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.

Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.

The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.

He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.

“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment.”

You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?

You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.

“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”

You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.

“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.

“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.

He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.

Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.

He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.

“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.

You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.

He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.

He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even begin unravelling what it signifies.

An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.

“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.

You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”

“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.

“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.

You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.

In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master.”

The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.

SMACK, you cry out in pain as the next strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”

The next he has mercy from you enduring and obeying on the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you Master.”

You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.

You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.

This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.

Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.

“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more, then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”

Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable precipice, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.

You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.

“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.

Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.

Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.

“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.

The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.

“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.

The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.

The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.

He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your arse at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.

“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again.

He sounded utterly euphoric, and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.

Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.

You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me Dear, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding is the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”

“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.

He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.

You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.

“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.

“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.

“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.

“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.

Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.

You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state of overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly insensible from his continued assault on your senses.

“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.

“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”

You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.

Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.

“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.

“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.

One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down onto you.

“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.

Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.

Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.

The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.

He groans in pleasure at your taste, hip hips rutting forward instinctively.

“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.

“Language darling, no need to be vulgar,” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jolting with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.

“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.

He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.

You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.

He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him.

You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.

“PLEASE!”

You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.

With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.

His hands push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.

Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.

The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.

The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.

He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.

“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more with a stuttered cry for you as he eases you through it again with his toiling cock.

Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.

His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “... Well now, you are a work of art... So weak, so pathetic, so mine... My dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.

His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.

Every pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.

You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.

“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.

Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.

Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.

The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.

Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure as he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.

Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.

Desperately your arms tugs relentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.

You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, they felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like it’s pressed under your tail too.

You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.

“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.

You break.

Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you wail through your third release absolutely bathing him in your squirt, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.

Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.

Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.

Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.

Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.

Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”

There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.

Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.

His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.

Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.

The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.

“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.

Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.

Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle, secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.

The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?

Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.

He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.

He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.

Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.

He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.

“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.

“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”

Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or barkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him...

Forever Bound.

A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜

[krkkvon]

actually aroace leo makes so much sense to me.

once i said something like "headcanon where leo feels uncomfortable because every person around him is in the relationship so he force himself to think he has a crush on every single person he meets because compare to everyone else he feels wrong and some sort of broken person when he has no love interest but then he realises everyone is equal for him not because he is so amorous but because he isn't AT ALL. because he is an aroace" but more i think about it more it feels like a canon to me because it has so much potential and feels sooo right but either rick riordan wasn't bold enough for made him an aroace nor didn't know such things exist in general, at the end of the day i'm always a little sad it isn't a canon because it's literally my roman empire.

aromantic asexual leo valdez you are everything to me i wish you were real.

[raayllum]

Ezran in Season 6

Because Ezran was basically sad and/or worried about something every time he was on screen in s6 and I wanna talk about it, among other Ezran S6 related things

Episode by episode let's go

6x01 — Framing, Kingship, and Caretaking

This is in some ways I think one of Ezran's most important episodes in arc 2, if only from a framing standpoint. By that I mean, as one of Ezran's last occasions to be in the same physical places as Harrow, they use every ounce of parallel framing and lines they can to show how much Ezran is evoking his father beat by beat throughout the episode.

We also get more literal parallels to Harrow as well, with the king by the window thinking it's better to not go destroying the thing his high mage brother is very much in favour of destroying, with both eventually agreeing (albeit for different reasons for said destruction each time).

Beyond parallels to his father, we also see how Ezran conducts himself within the council meetings, with Zym, and with his brother (+ Rayla) and Soren by proxy. For example, in just about every scene he has this episode, Ezran is focused on either 1) taking care of others or 2) directing others / making decisions. He has the final say with the pearl, he's the one comforting Zym, he's the one deciding Soren and Zym will look for Zubeia and signing off on Callum and Rayla leaving.

This on the one hand makes sense, as Ezran uses similar language when discussing his bond with his friends / Zym and his kingdom ("everyone is counting on me") but more on that later. 6x01, therefore, builds on the patterns established in early s4 of Ezran stepping up to carry everyone else's emotional weight, to be a steady presence of reassurance and peace, and of taking care of his kingdom / making decisions as a king and as a diplomat (going on the mission with Zubeia, onto Rex Igneous and Domina Profundis, etc).

She's alive. And wherever she is, she loves you too. (4x01)

I know you're worried about [Zubeia]. But wherever she is, I'm sure she's okay. (6x01)

It's not just Ezran emulating Harrow in telling Callum and Rayla to "take care of each other," or entrusting Soren with Zym ("keep each other safe"), and knowing that they will. Ezran watching everyone else leave without him harkens back, I think, to Soren's assertion in 5x02 that "It's not fair you have to struggle through this alone," but that is by and large what continues to happen for Ezran.

If you're trying to be a pillar of strength and one that others can lean on, it is very hard to lean on others (as we see perhaps most predominantly with Rayla, who also has many parallels to Ezran). All you can do is grin, bear it, and keep your head on straight. Therefore, that begets the question of who Ezran looks most directly to for guidance, which takes us to our next and only non-episode direct segment:

Ezran and Fathers: An Interlude

I'll expand on this a bit more in the next section, but I think it's worth noting up front in many ways that Zym is to Ezran what Ezran is to Callum, re: the older brother being both a brother and semi-taking on a parental role by default because it otherwise won't be filled. For Callum, this meant stepping in for both Sarai and Harrow at different points, and for Ezran, it means stepping in for both Avizandum and Zubeia. Ezran himself identifies this specific struggle in 2x03:

Someone's going to have to teach him all the things he's supposed to do, everything he's supposed to be. And he's meant to learn it all from a big strong king of the dragons. But he doesn't have that. All he's got is me.

Zym lacking his father and Ezran feeling like those shoes are difficult to fill leads him to missing his own dad. While Callum assures that "Me, Rayla, probably Bait, we're all here for you," Ezran still longs for his father and Harrow's specific guidance in his dynamic with Zym.

But I really wish Dad was here. I keep thinking about what he would do, what he would say to Zym. When I was little and I wasn't listening to him, Dad would say "Ezran, you're handful." So I tried that with Zym. "Azymondias, you're handful." But he doesn't understand. He doesn't even have hands. I guess I just miss Dad. He'd know what to do, you know?

Ezran reaffirms this desire to keep Harrow close in more ways than one, as he reveals in 4x08 where the silver of his crown came from (and why) as well as in 5x06, citing, "It's not worthless, it's really important to me," and quoting Harrow directly in 6x07 (though more on that later). We also see Ezran be willing to defend even Avizandum, who killed his mother, solely because he is Zym's dad: "Everything Avizandum did was to protect Xadia!" (4x08). This doesn't mean Ezran thinks either are perfect (his speech in 3x02 in which he reaffirms Harrow was a good father but a deeply flawed king indicates otherwise) but that both, as kings and as fathers, are people he has tried to emulate with varying degrees of success and aspiration.

AVIZANDUM: This is a special day, a day of life. Do not force me to make it a day of death. (3x06)

And this bond with Harrow is, of course, exactly what Claudia preys upon in 5x09 and what is going to be brought to the forefront in S7 with Runaan, but again: more on those things later. For now, the most important things are Ezran's continual push for himself with king and diplomat as the bases of his identity, and how S6 increases the strain on both of those aspects one by one.

6x02 — Knowledge and Need

One of Ezran's many assessments of what made him a different king from his father, besides not fighting in battles, was Ezran's recognition that he "hadn't read many books of wisdom". I found it a cute fun character detail then that both times we see him in his apparent down time in 6x02 and 6x03, and really the first down time we've seen him be in since early S4, he's reading ("He's right, books are great"—so true 4x02 Ezran, so true).

The more interesting aspect I think this episode raises is along the continuing lines of Ezran and Zym's bond, which is sweetly highlighted here (and then accordingly gets pay off with Zubeia and Zym by episode's close). Specifically, the idea of need:

CLAUDIA: She said I had to stay with Soren, that this was my home, and that my brother and I needed each other. (2x09)

This idea of needing one another, and being together, is very human centric in TDP, Callum and Ezran each being strong and routine proponents of it, but eventually the mindset extends to more Xadian characters (such as Rayla's statement that she and Ethari need Runaan, too, by season's end). This sentiment of "we need each other" is important of course, as well, because it operates in direct opposition to the concept of doing things alone or in isolation, which is how Ezran has been left behind as king and has operated somewhat as king in general.

Zubeia's demonstration that Ezran is a true part of their family is also important, as while Ez isn't there directly to hear it, it narratively rewards his love of Zym and Zubeia by having it be equally reciprocal, and Zym accordingly returns to him. While Ezran is king, and a good king, he cannot and should not be walking his path alone, and that means relying on the people around him to help him.

Or not, if that person is Viren.

6x03 / 6x04 — Viren

Viren's arrival back in Katolis weighs on Ezran before it weighs on Soren, and we see Ezran carry this weight in addition to every other concern already on his mind (but more on that when we talk about 6x05). For now, I want to talk about some contrasts with prior seasons for 6x03.

First, I want to talk about Ezran's storm motif. While the weather is normally pretty stormy, with just about if not every initial shot of the castle each season embedded in a storm, Ezran is the character who surprisingly has the most interplay with it. While Rayla is introduced in a storm and illuminated by lightning (S1 and her tears as the rain in S5), and Callum is a sky-storm mage (prominently in S2 and a bit in S5), Ezran is probably the character who experiences the storm the most and the most consistently.

1x01: Ezran is startled awake by thunder, fearful of the storm

2x07: Ezran runs after Zym and faces Claudia

3x01: Ezran arrives back in Katolis on the back of Banthers

4x01: Ezran hosts his council meeting of the season while it's raining/storming

5x01: Ezran goes out into the storm directly to engage with Domina Profundis

Therefore, the storm has been adjacent to most of Ezran's important turning points as a character, moving from something he's afraid of, to a signal of his tumultuous homecoming, to something he faces head on without fear, and finally where we see Ezran in a lot of ways finally be recognized as King by the person who tried to steal his throne and remove him from the position than one, with Viren's body language directly heralding his last confrontations (1x03, 5x02) with Harrow.

Furthermore, we have the interplay of what both Viren and Ezran believe will happen in Katolis ("They'll throw you in a dungeon, if you're lucky") versus what Viren actually receives from Ezran's verdict(s). Ezran is the only other character we see Viren seek direct penance and apology to, fully recognizing him as king: "I need to see the king" much the way he needed to go to Katolis to face his primary truth with Soren ("I must face my truth... I see you, Soren").

Then we have the way S6 takes more background themes of truth and mercy and amps them up throughout the season, re-contextualizing Ezran's exchange with Viren in a few ways. The most straightforward example of what I mean is by looking at what Aaravos says in his conversation with Sol Regem.

AARAVOS: Would you like a reward? A small mercy before perhaps, before your death? The mercy of truth. (6x08)

So while Ezran doesn't provide Viren with mercy in a traditional sense, as he says, "Good, you don't deserve any" and therefore will not give any, he does provide mercy. He provides Viren a truth they can both agree on, he allows Viren to see him as was requested, and he spares the man's life, locking him away rather than executing him. Ezran's truth is harsh, maybe (deservedly) but it is merciful by its own measure.

On the other end of mercy with Aaravos and the Cosmic Council, we see concepts of mercy and cruelty be called into question.

Sometimes the line between mercy and cruelty can be thin.

Now, Ezran lived because of Rayla's compassion and mercy, and Ezran is someone who ordinarily shows mercy to others as well (i.e. Rayla, Soren, Claudia on more than one occasion, N'than). He's also not usually cruel. But "cruel" is one of Viren's many motif words (I do not mean to be cruel / I owe you an apology Viren, I was cruel to you even though I care for you so much / He's cruel, but you don't have to be / I have been cruel to you + I punished you with a life of cold cruelty), so I think it's worth taking into account. As the wonderful and talented @its-leethee once pointed out, Ezran denying Viren his own definition of mercy also means denying him cruelty by proxy.

I also think Ezran is aware he walks this line as king, however, given how we see things go when Soren returns in 6x04. Not only is the scene with the council while Viren is in the dungeon tonally completely different than it was in season 3 (nobody with the authority to do anything about it, not even Opeli outside of 3x01, really treats Viren being down there as a concern or something on Ezran's plate when he gets back), but also because it presents Ezran with a hard choice to make.

Barius is distanced enough that he can almost smile about the mushrooms, so I knew either Opeli or Ezran were going to be the ones to tell Soren what had happened. Ezran in 3x02 states, "I didn't see everything [Harrow] had to do as king, but I do know that my dad had to make many hard decisions." Not only does this form the backbone of Ezran's entire philosophy as king (going back home in the first place, refusing to have a regent, sacrificing himself, taking the throne up again, etc etc) but it informs him here. Someone has to do the hard thing of telling Soren the truth, and Ezran decides it'll be him, so he does.

Because he's not just Soren's friend, he's his king. And that's Ezran's responsibility.

6x05 — Ezran and Responsibility

Ezran has a very interesting mindset when it comes to what people are responsible for. He holds Claudia accountable in 2x09, but still chases after her and believes in her in 3x09; while he presumably doesn't like dark magic for obvious Ezran-y reasons of seeing all creatures as friends, he's not judgmental about its usage for either Claudia or Callum, even when Rayla holds his brother's usage against him in S2. And when Rayla returns in season 4, he's also not visibly upset with her, either. So I think we can say, if you express regret, had good intentions, and prove you can change, there's a lot that Ezran can forgive, even if it's not everything (re: Viren).

I think we see some of his struggle with it, though, when it comes to the weight he feels for his own actions and choices. Despite Kasef bringing war to his doorstep, Ezran laments, "How can I let this happen?" When he creates a plan where Katolis could escape the war wholly if enough people laid down their hands, giving them agency at the expense of his own, and it doesn't work perfectly, Ezran says, "I let [Corvus] down as king," and feared doing the same earlier: "I feel like I'm letting everyone down." This idea of immense collective responsibility, and the persistent fear of letting people (specifically and in general) down, is one of the many reasons him and Rayla are, often times, so very similar.

Ezran has a tendency to take on an internalized feeling of responsiblity to begin with, and that simply gets amplified with the external circumstances of him being king:

I know everyone is counting on me to teach Zym how to fly. But that's just the start. (2x03)

I don't have time to do kid things. I must gain the trust and cooperation of the dragons, and I shall not be deterred. So many people are counting on me to do my duty. [...] Every time I sit on my throne, I'm reminded of the immense pressure of my kingly duty. (5x02)

But when I struggle, I think of the people I love and how they are counting on me to do the right thing. (6x07)

So Ezran holds himself to a high standard, and that trickles down into how he interacts with others typically in a more compassionate rather than judgemental way—letting things go, holding the group together, being a routinely validating presence—and how he operates as king (4x04):

EZRAN: Wait, please don't go yet. If the Fallen Star is a danger the whole world will face, this is a chance to solve our problems together. [...] I wish there was a way we could combine our strength and purpose and face this together. OPELI: Maybe there is a way. Go with her. EZRAN: But Katolis needs me. OPELI: The world needs you right now. The High Council can take care the people, I promise. EZRAN: You're right. The kingdom will be in good hands.

As king, his kingdom and people come first ("As princes of Katolis, it's our duty to put you all first"—Dreamer's Nightmare) and we see this continue in 6x05 with his conversation with Soren.

LUJANNE: Consider the half moon. Light only falls on half its face right now, but that doesn't mean the other half isn't there. The same is true with you. There are parts of yourself that you keep hidden. (2x02)

Him and Soren are both worried and both fronting with each other, Ezran smiling when Soren enters and giving him a reassuring hug, and Soren's smile dropping the second he leaves.

EZRAN: I'm really excited for Aunt Amaya's wedding, but it also feels like a bad time to leave Katolis. There's so much happening. Callum and Rayla aren't back yet. I'm still worried for Zubeia. And there's that other thing. The prisoner. SOREN: Oh, don't worry about—Viren. Everything will be fine.

Even after receiving news from Soren and Zym that Zubeia is alright, and reaffirming he knows that Zym is worried, Ezran doesn't open up to Zym about it or let the worry go. He feels responsible for his kingdom but also in handling things with Viren.

Speaking of Viren from last episode: while Ezran is typically non-judgmental and forgiving of choices/mistakes, we also get an important piece for how Ezran views responsiblity from 3x02:

My father made choices to keep fighting battles that started hundreds of years before he was born. To punish enemies for crimes their parents committed.

The same way Rayla turns because "how can we take vengeance for something that never happened," Ezran didn't punish Soren and Claudia for crimes their father made ("They thought I ran away, just like my parents" / "But if I die, I'll just be paying the price they should've paid a long time ago") but he does punish Viren for crimes Viren has committed. His emphasis on agency extends to 3x04, in which he gives up his agency in order to give his army some: they can choose to walk away with no technical consequences, even though the deserters are jeered at and forced to wear identification badges / are publicly shamed for their choice to not go to war against Xadia. Rayla was also ordered by Zubeia to kill him and his father, but went against orders upon seeing the egg; Zubeia's heart likewise changed upon seeing her child had been returned to her. (Runaan, comparatively, refused to disobey orders even once seeing the egg, and then attacked and tried to kill his daughter over it by his own admission—but more on him and Ezran later).

The point I'm trying to make is that Ezran feels responsible for his own and other people's decisions when it comes to the good of his kingdom; that he fronts just as much as Soren does about feeling okay; and that he highlights people's agency / right to choose as something that can help them break the cycle, as indicated in his infamous 4x03 speech:

But violence tests us. In a twisted way, it converts us to its cause. Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. You want to hurt someone else. So what do we do? How can we stop this cycle? [...] We have to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again. We have to give today’s children a chance to inherit a future filled with peace. To give them that, we have to hold pain and love in our hearts at the same time.

As king, he has the ability—the responsibility—to make better choices in leading his kingdom, leading his friends.

With that in mind, time to finally talk about the biggest Ezran episode this season:

6x07 — Choices and Sisters

In 6x07, we see Ezran away from Katolis, which he was worried to be, but bonding with Queen Aanya, which is rather sweet. When war is brought to his aunts' doorstep, though, Ezran accordingly steps up, and that is where the real meat of the episode begins for him. Not only is he much calmer and more direct when bargaining with Janai than either his brother or Rayla were (5x03), he's also directly successful, with a little help from Aunt Amaya.

While Ezran to this point has had a bit of interplay with the Mercy motif running throughout the season, and a bit of Truth by proximity, here we see him step more fully into the Path motif that's interwoven with both of these concepts ("Only you can find your one deep truth. Only you can choose the path you're going to walk" —6x04):

EZRAN: What? No. This is supposed to be a day of love, not a day of bloodshed. Maybe we can talk him down. [...] Queen Janai, please. Go on with the wedding. Send me as your emissary to Karim.

There's a few reasons Ezran steps in, I think. He wants to help his aunts and allow them to have their wedding day (again, taking something onto his shoulders to avoid it being on someone else's). He wants to save lives. But perhaps most personally is that this is his path and therefore his truth. He believes in peace and more than that, he believes in choices, offering one both to Janai (and Amaya) of whether to send him or not, and then to Karim of whether to listen.

So he goes, planning for contingencies in bringing Corvus and leaving Aanya by the rocks to watch their backs with her bow and arrow.

A few notes on his discussion with Karim in quick succession otherwise we'll be here all day:

The return of the child-king dichotomy ("a child is freer than a king" / "but I can't run away from growing up, now that I'm king" / "the whining child king" / "this is a child!" "he is a king!") makes a return

As does Karim's typical brand of condescension

Ezran offers Karim the same thing he offered his armies, as well as Ezran's emphasis on the future > Karim's emphasis on the past and power: "Take your army, the people who follow you, and build your own future somewhere away from here."

Reaffirmation of Ezran believing humans and Xadia are stronger together and that people should be reintegrated with each other (bringing Zym home, working with various elves and dragons, his offers of togetherness to Zubeia and Rayla, his love for his aunt, etc etc)

Ezran quoting Harrow's letter directly: "No, history doesn't have to be a narrative of strength. Not if we don't want it to be. It can be a narrative of love."

Initial break down of key points:

Once again, Ezran highlights people's wants. Queen Janai wants peace. It doesn't have to be a narrative of strength if we don't want it to be. "We all want peace and we all want love." Karim is about to deliver a very harsh lesson about what can happen when that isn't what people want, as he's more motivated by ego and pride than any measure of love. Ezran's emphasis also ties into opposition with how when people / characters in the show don't listen to their wants, they're more likely to engage in the Cycle because they think they have no choice: "I don't want to," Rayla says, threatening his brother, "but I have to" (1x02) + arc 1 Viren's entire character arc.

Secondly, while Ezran begins by stating that "Human, child, king" (or his three identity monikers) "none of this matters," that's not where he ends his statement. Instead, he builds his identity directly upon his kingship (which Karim notably does not have):

K: Those are childish dreams. E: Not dreams. Choices. I am a king. And as a king, I choose love over strength.

This is an interesting reconciliation, as we see Harrow forced to choose in dreams precisely because he's king (2x05) and we see dreams interplay with choices for both Viren ("Every step forward is a choice") and Callum's dark magic dreams ("No, I get to choose who I want to be"). It also sets up inevitably that Karim won't choose love over strength almost precisely because he's not king and that's what he wants to be, perhaps in a symbolic sense.

Then we get to the meatiest part of S6 Ezran in a lot of ways, in terms of set up for next season:

Sometimes it’s hard, but when I struggle, I think about the people I love and how they are counting on me to do the right thing. Not the harsh thing, not the strong thing. The right thing. Do you love your sister, Prince Karim?

Again, a few quick notes:

Verbal acknowledgement from Ezran himself that choosing love over strength is hard and is a struggle, harkening back to 4x03

"Counting on me" pattern

Ezran specifically references to the people he loves as balances, which most clearly points to Zym and Zubeia, I think

Ezran will be challenged in that exact way next season with Runaan, precisely with "Do you love your sister?" (and brother) being what can bring him back from the brink

But more on this when I get to my Ezran-Karim meta, which all of this meta was originally supposed to be in, and then it got way too long and got split in two.

KARIM: What? Of course I do. I... She has led our people down the wrong path, but she will always be my sister. EZRAN: Then you can still choose love. It’s not too late.

However, all of Ezran's best efforts — his emphasis on choices — doesn't matter when Karim actively "wants Janai to attack"; that history wrote that fire must be chosen, so he'll choose it again now. What follows is Ezran desperately running to save lives and go against the perceived destiny Miyana sees ("Open your eyes, little king. You cannot be blind to destiny") as both Zym, Aanya, and Corvus help Ezran escape. We see Aanya continue to be a great support, extending a hand to him rather than being someone he extends aid to, and although Ezran is unable to stop the Sunfire armies from colliding with Sol Regem, they are spared anyway.

And while he's undeniably grateful and happy it didn't happen to the Sunfire elves nor his aunts, it's for a fate that's far personally worse for our young boy king.

6x09 — Castles Crumbling

Remember how I've emphasized throughout about Ezran treating kingdom — particularly in S6 — as an underpinning for his entire identity, both in professional and interpersonal relationships? Well... what's a king his castle? What is a king without a kingdom?

Furthermore, Katolis and the crown, the kingship, is also key to how Ezran conceptualizes and remembers Harrow. The emphasis on his throne, the emphasis on his crown, the way Ezran speaks and forges ahead as a leader... these are all ways to keep his parents'—his father's—memory alive. Now there's not even that.

Ezran has always had semblances of phoenix symbolism, surviving death, riding dragons rather than being burned by them, waking up with the rising sun in 3x02 and claiming his crown at sunset by the end, being taken to the dungeons at nightfall, etc. Now he's been pushed into it full throttle, dealing with many types of grief at once.

A loss of his people and the responsiblity he felt towards them, grieving innocent lives lost; the destruction of his childhood home and safe stronghold; in many ways, the loss of his father and family all over again; and lastly, a loss of sense of self, symbolized by the literally fallen towers of Katolis.

This raises an especially interesting arc for Ezran going forward. On the one hand, being king is a deeply positive experience for him: it's hard but it's liberating, he deeply loves his people, and it's a role as mediator he's always naturally stepped into (1x03, 1x06, Dreamer's Nightmare, 4x06, etc). It's something he actively chooses and uses to choose the Narrative of Love.

At the same time, it's also been deeply isolating, and something he's prone to utilizing in anger: "If I am the king, you have to let me go" (2x08) when it comes to pulling rank. The fact it's so bound up with his bond with Harrow (and Callum having distance from Harrow partially specifically informed by Harrow being king) is also likely to hurt as much as it helps.

In the same way that other characters are being pushed to their dual identity breaking point in S7 — Rayla as a protector or an assassin, Callum as someone who can break away from Aaravos' corrupted control or will play right into his hands — Ezran will likewise be similarly tested, being a King of Strength and a King of Love, potentially falling prey to the same pitfalls that doomed his father but also coming back from them as well. In a lot of ways, therefore, each of his scenes / episodes in S6 take the former dominos from S4 and S5 and line them up all for 6x09—7x02 to likely knock them down in brutal succession, and then see how he — like his brother and friend; like a phoenix; like his kingdom — rises from the ashes.

And I can't wait to see it.

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this very long Ezran meta! There was a lot to dig in from S6 itself as well as from prior seasons, and is — I think — probably tied for the 2nd best Ezran season with season 3 (the best season for him being S4, tbh). Contextualizing things further both in regards to the past and the future for his character arc is also very exciting, and I hope this meta helped create hype — for the boy, for the king, and for the way Ezran has continued to grow and be tested.

The next meta will either be Terry (S4—S6) or Claudia&Rayla (S6) centric, and I will see you then!

In the meantime, Dragons out!

[animentality]

'what academics thought of him' get that stick out of your ass, as if writing a bs paper is more valuable than literally 95% of jobs XDD

you know what's really sad?

you don't even know just how much you don't know.

you think that you and I are on even ground and that I just have an inflated sense of self worth and that we are intellectual equals or that we are, in some way, capable of the same logical processing power and deductive reasoning, you just didn't finish school and I did...

but we aren't.

and the saddest part is that you really never will know what it's like to understand things on the same level as I do, nor will you ever attempt to do such a thing.

you're sort of like a newborn puppy trying to contemplate the existence of a mirror.

you're capable of seeing the world around you, but you will not know why or how it works, and everything that happens to you will be outside of your control or comprehension.

and that's tragic.

and I feel sorry for you.

because that must be a terrifying and confusing way to live.

and fear mostly leads to fury and lashing out at anyone you can reach, because you cannot influence anything else, and you just don't understand why.

this is the only way you can assert yourself and make you feel in control, and the worst part is... you don't even know how easily we can see through you.

and you are still, ultimately, powerless.

you're just, you know. also embarrassing yourself.

[just-space-055]

Sampo event day 6 is here let's gooo

SPOILERS FOR DAY 6!!

----

This line sounds...kinda sweet actually?? One of the things that stick out to me about Sampo is even tho he is a masked fool, the group who is fixated on elation, he understands that universe is not just full of elation but sorrow too. Maybe that's why he wants to emante *wink wink (look at me being so subtle) elation to others.

Then again, this is the guy who keeps scamming people... I really wonder how that side of him ties to everything else. Why is this man so complicated-

Here we get more Tavern lore yesss

What he says here makes sense, since elation has close ties with change. In Glimpses Into The Beyond Fu Xuan even mentions how sometimes Aha takes human form to catalyze this change. After all elation enjoys chaos and chaos cannot happen without change.

It also seems like Sampo believes that everyone would want some excitement in their lives and therefore everyone would want some elation.

----

Now this one is VERY interesting.

This actually reminds me of the 4th wall break. If he truly is aware that all of this is a game then he must also know that there are main and side characters. I believe he perfectly understands that he is in fact a side character. But the "similar to real life" part might refer to how others are not aware of the 4th wall and selfishly believe themselves to be the main character.

If Sampo is aware of everything then i think this might actually be the reason he is interested in the Trailblazer. Beacuse he knows they are actually the main character. But that's just a thought. The important part is whether or not the 4th wall thing is unique to Sampo. I know masked fools are all about this act and performance, but maybe Sampo has a deeper understanding in all this.

----

This event is giving SO MUCH MORE than i had expected and i LOVE it. Sadly tomorrow is the last day but i believe the hardest lore drop will be on that day too. (Mostly 'cause of the leaks but yeah)

Guys just imagine if the last item is literally named "Sampo" and we get the Kalevala poem and lore drop there IMAGINE

[artist-issues]

Thoughts on Moana being a rather conservative story?

Girl’s parents want her to play along with current cultural expectations despite the looming threat of all the prosperity rotting away if they continue to live like this. Girl (by some form of divine intervention) has a sense that there’s a different, higher purpose she should be pursuing. Girl then finds out about the Old Ways and saves the world by Returning to Tradition.

The story seems surprisingly apt for the times and I never noticed it before.

Well, when you say it like that, yeah, for sure!

I think you could also say:

“Girl’s parents want her to play along with the traditions they think are important, while ignoring their cultural heritage. By getting in touch with what appears to be a higher power, Girl sets out to restore her cultural heritage. However, she does not save the world until she realizes that it is not the Higher Power who makes her special; she decides who she is, and decides to be special.”

I mean it’s not as well-written as yours, but it’s a take you could absolutely have. Because Moana is a “young girl character” and her parents are “grown ups who are wrong,” someone who is not conservative could very easily read progressive values into that.

But. Moana’s grandmother represents the oldest generation, and the oldest generation turns out to be right. So you could definitely start to argue that it’s not about “progressive understanding triumphing over the harmful outdated rule of tradition…” because Moana’s grandmother, the representative of The Older Traditional Generation, is right…

…About almost everything. Except for one thing:

And you know what? That mirrors the idea of the Ocean choosing Moana.

This subtle hint that something’s wrong with being told Who You Are and What You Should Do. What’s the counter-idea? That you should get to choose for yourself Who You Are and What You Should Do. Or else it’s harmful. And doesn’t really Count.

That is a Progressive, Liberal Idea. (since the context of this post is framing things with those terms.)

And Moana does perpetuate That Progressive Idea.

Because Moana includes this line:

The way the Higher Power versus the Power In You is framed is what makes the movie less “conservative values”-leaning than it could be.

First the Ocean Chooses Moana, and then she has to “choose herself.” 🙄 I hate the phrasing of that, but it is the simplest way to say it. First the Ocean tells Moana who she is. Then Moana appears to take that on faith.

But then the movie has Moana switch the focus on “The Ocean Chose Me, therefore I am This,” to “I want to be This, and I wasn’t really This until I decided that, so NOW I’m This.”

Moana is portrayed as not really Getting It, her character hasn’t developed or learned her Big Lesson yet, when she’s just taking things on the Ocean’s Authority. Same with Maui. He’s finding his identity in what people think of him, and in what he can do. When all along the movie tells us that he should’ve just…chosen what he wanted to be, for himself.

Moana is a really interesting movie. Because it definitely says that there are indicators, Outside of Yourself, of “Who You Are.” Those indicators are, in a nutshell “Where You’ve Been.” Before Moana belts out I AM MOANA, she’s explaining where she’s from and what she loves and yes, the fact that a Higher Power called her. But the idea is that she has to be the one to embrace that to make it “Fully True.”

Just like Maui has tattoos that tell the story of his life—they’re literally Outside of Himself, and a lot of it was out of his control, like his parents not wanting him or the gods calling him worthy of saving—but who he is isn’t portrayed as “Fully True” until Maui makes it true.

Even navigation, in the way to do it is:

So there’s this idea of choosing to be who you are. That’s not very conservative. Conservative values honor authority outside of oneself.

…But, you can go back and forth on that. Even in life, God made human beings for a purpose. That’s Who They Are. And He gave them free will. So they can accept or reject Who They Are. If they accept Who They Are, they reach the realization of that. He fixes what got warped (like Maui’s fishhook) and they can be what He made them to be after all. But if they choose to keep on rejecting Who They Are, well then, they don’t get to ever be Who They Are; eventually they choose Destruction over Being, and Destruction is what they get.

I think Moana’s a pretty interesting case. Ultimately I like it and I think I agree with it, sorta. It’s just that whole “I can trump the Oceans and the gods’ authority about Who I Am” that’s iffy. “The call isn’t Out There at all, it’s inside me,” that’s bad. “I know the way?” Too self-focused. Clearly you don’t always know the way, Moana, or we wouldn’t be in this mess.

…But still, if Moana had just gone home? Rejected the who the Ocean said she was, and refused to agree with it? Would;be been a worse story. Would’ve felt wrong. Wouldn’t it? Because the truth is, protecting her home instead of living in self-protective fear IS who Moana Really Is. So if she’d gone home, left it to someone else, it would’ve been and felt wrong, and that indicates that she could be wrong about the answer to the question “Who Am I?” And if she can be wrong, that means there’s a right outside of herself. And that’s good.

So Moana’s a really interesting case. It manages to walk the line and please everybody…even though it could just as easily displease everybody, because it walks the line. the line between free will and sovereign Higher Power. yeesh

[puhpandas]

Why do people like ggy? I don't like what it does to Gregory's characterization, how it makes Vanny pointless, and how it contradicts the game.

I think you just answered your own question. you dont like what it does to his character but some other people do!

vanny being pointless isnt GGYs fault, it's just unfortunate that GGY takes away from her. which like I said isnt his fault because Vannys lack of screentime/character is just a fundamental problem with her. if she'd gotten the screentime she needed, it wouldnt be nearly as bad.

and it doesn't really contradict the game if you think about it. theres nothing in the game about Gregory to contradict lol. he has a lot of mystery surrounding him that GGY can explain if you apply it to him.

Gregory's lack of a record, his skill with robots, freddy 'remembering' him somehow in cut security breach lines, sleeping in the box, a lot of these can be explained if you assume Gregory had memory loss during sb after getting freed like vanessa somehow. it makes a whole lot more sense.

and it's also just an interesting dynamic for Gregory and the other characters in his life! gregory and vanessa being in the same boat changes things, and it makes a narritave they're pushing in ruin make a whole lot more sense (the idea that Gregory and vanessa worked on mxes together, and collabed as a 'we were ur victims now we're going to lock you away' type deal)

[chirpsythismorning]

El being *12 hours earlier* than the Cali timeline when she arrives at Nina. Will saying ‘it���s been 9 hrs’ in the scene following his monologue in the van.

We know that at some point their timelines merged when they arrived to save her…

But we don’t know when exactly those alignments took place when they were still apart… which just makes you wonder…

[lovelyrotter]

ill probably delete this in a minute but ive just been fuckin boggled by what ive seen across tumblr in the last few days in particular. its why i havent really been around. like holy fucking shit, its really like some of yall just dont want a chunk of the trans community to exist. like some of yall are thisclose to saying it verbatum. way too many already have. 'shut up sit down be quiet and smile for us' type shit, gee where have i heard that before. oh yeah my entire life cause i was forcefully gendered as someones daughter. shock horror i know. you might be surprised to remember and/or learn that very few trans folks know theyre trans before we're 5, or even 10, and that that gendered experience stays with all of us in both/either small or large ways. either bc we literally dont have a solid identity yet (bc we're very small children), dont have the words, we're repressing it out of fear from how others will treat us, we're actually enjoying or enjoyed being another gender in our childhood, or we just genuinely didnt fuckin know until shit lined up later in life. weird isnt it that transmascs dont pop out as 6'1 brick shithouse cis men when we're born so yall know for certain that we're confused lost girls/women oops i mean big dangerous scary men. its almost like we're transgender too. none of yall actually know what intersectionality is or means