#the colour scheme in this one is very interesting

[uservalentine]

thank you mac @hoodhoran for tagging me <3

share your lockscreen, the last song you listened to, the last photo you saved, and the last photo you took

lockscreen: i have two lockscreen carousel thingys and since one is of my friends, is this luke in the 5sos one <3

last song: my feeling nostalgic 🤝🏻 joost

last photo saved: ruel’s brisbane show!!

last photo taken: flower bouquet my parents got 💐

tagging, only if you want to of course; @redrattlers @sorcerry @ct-tech @loverofmines @ijustdontlikepeople

[17mujipens]

i saw a video about the Queen in Dungeon Meshi and her skin colour. and people in the comments had all sorts of theories on why she and Flamela have such dark skin. and it made me realise that a lot of people haven’t seen this page of the Adventurers Bible:

[starflungwaddledee]

which ocs in the fandom do you find the most interesting? also, which ocs do you think have the most aesthetically pleasing designs? finally, which ocs have you only heard of but would like to know more about?

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nooooooo ha haaa noooo i can't possibly answer this because it would be soooo unfair to have favourites wouldn't it's comet knight by @kittenvirus

[meo-eiru]

heyy!! here I am with some more thoughts, this time about Elias.

honestly, for some reason, he seems like a very lonely person to me. you mentioned his will to change himself (and go to extreme lengths in that); also his almost paranoid fear of darling leaving him, (delete all of your contacts except for him, etc) – usually such level of jealousy is a sign of very low self-esteem. dunno if it's true, I just had a feeling that he's super insecure deep down. (he's afraid to look bad in our eyes, remember? to an unhealthy extent.)

and he's so empty. so beautiful on the outside, but so so empty. he loves you, he exists for you, isn't that enough? it isn't. you can't feel genuine affection for someone just because they look good. and Elias knows that! he's actually self conscious (unlike some elf with big tatas), but he can't offer you anything else, which must make him feel even more insecure, because deep down he knows that he won't be able to keep you by his side forever.

actually that will of his to go to extreme lengths for us is pretty frightening. how toxic it can be? depends on the darling! because if you are a normal person, you'd be patient with him, change him, and have a happy ever after and all those boring things. but what if Elias happens to fall in love with an unreasonable and possessive monster?

I feel like he'd go very well with a darling who's yandere for him too. and a stereotypical one at that, who'd want to keep him by their side like a pretty doll. get it? not a life partner, not even a human. a doll, a pretty thing to take care of. they would choose pretty clothes for him, brush his hair, but at the end of the day, he's nothing more but a pretty thing, an object.

I really like the doll metaphor for Elias. (I'm a huge doll lover, I ever have one of that super expensive bjd) dolls are beautiful, but aren't alive. they can't be someone you'd open your heart to; under their shiny porcelain skin, they're hollow.

unlike Silas, Elias is a more tragic character in my eyes. he's willing to carve his bones to whatever shape you desire, because if he isn't validated and noticed by you, he has no value. and you (if you are a normal person) will grow tired and bored of him, sooner or later. he wants to be loved, when there's pretty much nothing to love in him.

unlike Silas, his love can ruin only himself.

(I swear it's not like I want to see him suffer in particular. I'm open to all kinds of despair, pain and sadness, whether it yan's or darling's!)

(also I tried to find his colour scheme, but all I found was you mention his hair, so it's just how I think he looks like.)

DHDKDHDKYS NOT ONLY IS YOUR ANALYZES AMAZING YOU ALSO DREW ELIAS??? AND HOW DID YOU GET HIS COLOR SCHEME SO RIGHT???

I love you thank you god I love asks like yours.

You’re very on point, Elias is like a pretty doll. Beautiful on the outside but completely empty inside, and that beauty is the only thing that gives him any kind of worth. He’s aware of this more than anyone.

He’s not rich, he doesn’t have an amazingly successful career, no hobbies, no specialities, no interests. He’s extremely pathetic and all he can do is pitifully attempt to pull you down to his level.

That’s why committing self harm comes so easily to him even if he doesn’t yearn for it. Endangering himself, his only value, his body, is the only way he can keep you with him. He doesn’t have any power over you he can use against you. He only has this disgustingly and pathetically beautiful body.

He wants to be loved by you, he wants you to be obsessed with him as much as he is with you, but deep down he knows he doesn’t have any qualities that could deserve such love. That is why he leans into his appearance so hard, since the moment he was born that face of his was the only thing that gave him any sort of value.

If you find any part of him ugly he’ll have no choice but to try to fix it even if it completely ruins him. Because he thinks that’s the only way for him to keep your eyes on him. He’s just through and through pathetic. Extremely pitiful.

He would indeed roll well with a yandere reader who treats him like a living doll. Because Elias wants to be values by you, even if it means getting stripped of the little sense of identity he had. He wants you to keep your eyes on him and see him as an object who exists for your satisfaction. Because at the end of the day that is what he is. An empty shell who was unfortunate enough to be born with the ability to love.

Elias’ existence can’t handle his own love. He’ll start breaking from inside out like a doll under pressure. That’s why he needs your reassurance, he needs you to reaffirm his worth. He can’t exist for himself so he needs to exist for you. He might be a beautiful shell of a human but he too can have some sort of value if he’s being used like a tool by you.

But watching you also makes him feel extremely jealous and frustrated. Because you have everything he doesn’t have. You have hobbies, things you enjoy, things you do for yourself, people who stay with you not for your outer shell but for who you are inside. Everything Elias never had and never will.

That’s why he tries so hard to ruin your relationships and threaten you to stay with him, to keep you at his level like a pathetic bug. Because you’re not like him. You can abandon him any day of the week and continue your life like you lost nothing, but Elias isn’t like that. If he loses you he truly will have nothing left.

So please love him, ruin him, break him, treat him right, use him, make him feel alive, give him some sort of value. Please be kind to Elias. He needs you more than anyone on this world

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[thesiltverses]

The horror of Eric Carle

Becoming a dad has really been a reminder of all the half-forgotten books that got me interested in horror: the ones that I will definitely share with my kid (The Minpins) and the ones that I probably won't (Not Now, Bernard)

And then there's Eric Carle, and now it's all coming flooding back - the very first time in my life that I experienced terror. Seriously, what the fuck is this?

Carle's most famous book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, is in its own way uneasy and strange (the caterpillar's voracious and growing hunger is presented ambiguously both as an unavoidable and natural process of change and something greedy and grotesque; the caterpillar appears to devour its own place-of-birth and then feels good about it) but it flies under the radar by being very unCarle-like. The caterpillar is largely tiny and cute, we get plenty of colourful close-ups of tasty-looking food, and there are only two pages and a cover which feature Carle's favourite preoccupation: giant animals with irregular, scissor-cut eyes staring unhappily at the reader as they threaten to grow larger than the page itself.

I genuinely remember feeling deeply unnerved by Carle's first major piece of illustration work, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, written with Bill Martin Jr., but only now do I understand why. Holy shit, I have so many questions.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? I see a red bird looking at me.

Why is the rhyme-scheme so frantic and breathless, like it's being chanted out during an escalating ritual somewhere deep in the forests? Why are the animals - textured via collage as if half-carved from wood themselves - staring directly at us, the audience, before then revealing that they're actually looking behind us at something else which is staring back at them in turn? Why do so many of the animals look so fearful and haunted as they acknowledge the vast web of visibility which exists between them?

Why does the 'white dog' page - perhaps the only-genuinely-friendly-looking animal - briefly plunge us into night-time, creating the impression that these creatures are somehow watching each other across spans of time and space, when Carle is fully capable of just drawing an outline around the dog?

Why is the teacher's neck extending like a xenomorph's tongue as she glares with narrowed eyes down at the children (what horrible act have they caught her doing?) Why is the cover of follow-up Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear clearly depicting a Tuunbaq stalking the reader?

What seems remarkable and bizarre is that Carle, a talented artist, deliberately chooses to draw animals for infant readers which are neither cute nor charming but which consistently embody the internet joke about hares - feral wilderness prophets who've glimpsed the truth of the universe and gone mad - and has made a stunningly successful career out of doing so.

Carle's beasts know something terrible that they do not fully understand, and which they are incapable of sharing with us.

I'll avoid the crass temptation to draw serious biographical inferences here (Carle believed he had PTSD from an adolescence spent in Nazi Germany, and his works were inspired by his childhood walks with his father, who returned home psychologically shattered by his own experiences as a Soviet prisoner-of-war) and just say that there is something wonderful, awful and innocent in the fact that perhaps the most popular baby-book artist of all time, when asked to draw a goldfish, would respond with what is clearly a monstrous open-mouthed leviathan rising up from black depths to devour us all.

Look at this horrible fucking thing. It rocks.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

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 soul attention.

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 my pretty Doe, 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 💜

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

With the not as he seems au how would the gideon plotline work in regards to Bill's involvement? Also I'm loving your au it's so interesting!

I considered a few options for this, but settled on one in particular. I haven’t worked out everything yet, so this will just be the stuff I have worked out. Being as Gideon’s takeover of the shack and all is how Stan got Journal 2 in canon, and was a major catalyst for the portal, I wanted the Gideon plot to retain that major catalyst factor.

I don’t have too many details yet, but the general gist is that Bill, by proxy, also has a rivalry with Gideon. Although, the main rivalry is still with Stan, and Gideon views ‘Stanford’ as more of the Pines family’s annoying, attack dog — the threat he has to eliminate before he can commit to any scheme.

The reason for this is Bill is a far more active tormentor of Gideon. Gideon bit first and so he bites back. That type of dynamic.

Most stuff at the beginning is the same besides that, although I do have some extra plot lines and also interactions I probably wanna consider.

But Dreamscaperers is where stuff becomes strange. Again, I don’t have all the details right now, but I do have the main catalyst for the plot, which is that Gideon’s summon of Bill actually works. For the first time in thirty years, Bill is in his own body (in a sense), but from Stan and Dipper’s POV, they just watched Ford’s body pass out suddenly without cause.

The other important beats here:

- Bill does not take the deal with Gideon. He claims he already has a deal with Stan that he can’t break, and while that technically isn’t a lie, there’s an array of reasons as to why he doesn’t take it.

- Bill does not stay freed, and once his summoning is over, he wakes up back in Ford’s body.

- Gideon Rises does still happen, Gideon just resorts to TNT earlier.

- Mabel and Dipper start investigating into their Grunkle Ford’s relationship with Bill after Mabel and Soos, like in canon, witnessed the summoning. Between the worrying entries in the journal and ‘Ford’s tendency to don triangular jewellery and the colour yellow, they suspect something is amiss. He suspiciously keeps dodging the questions too. But the Mystery Twins are on the case! Cue Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained: Grunkle Ford’s Tattoos.

- Stan ends up summoning Bill during Scaryoke, which is why he’s down in the basement initially before coming up to protect the kids. And, like with Gideon, it actually works. It’s only temporary, and Ford’s body always passes out instead of Ford returning to consciousness, but it’s absolutely a step. It’s also the first time Stan sees Bill and hears his actual voice, and he’s laughing for ten minutes straight.

That’s all the rough stuff I have right now! I’m probably gonna work on the finer details some more over time, especially Gideon’s plot as a whole and if Gideon Rises would change much.

And thank you!! I’m glad the AU is enjoyed!

I also do have these very quick doodles I did while brainstorming.

[hazamacore]

The Interweaving of Desmond & Eloise

an analysis on how they have been established as a pair

Collection of all essays so far

At the stage we are currently at, the end of chapter one with around thirteen hours of content to watch and even more outside of direct canon to examine, Desmond and Eloise have established themselves as a pair in a similar vein to Damon and Eva or Mark and Jett. Their pairing feels obviously deliberate and indicative of deeper meaning, which we’ll no doubt see more of as the game proceeds. In this essay I want to cohesively lay out all of my current thoughts on them - developed from TikTok posts I have made (x / x / x) with other newer points from my notes that do not appear in said posts. 

While I personally enjoy their relationship in a romantic context, this is not intended as a ship post, and you are of course free to interpret it how you like. It’s just looking at how they relate to each other as characters and their canon relationship and giving my thoughts on what that means for them! Regardless of how you interpret the context of their relationship, that these two are being set up as close is undeniable.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER ONE AHEAD!

Firstly, I want to establish the significance of pairs in Project: Eden’s Garden overall. So much about the game circles back to pairs: the killing game ‘officially’ ending when only two remain, everyone waking up in pairs, Toshiko being the Ultimate Matchmaker, Tozu and Mara being a pair, bunking in pairs, splitting off into pairs… and much of this can be put down to the theming of the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. With everyone’s animal motifs, another Biblical story in Noah’s Ark comes to mind. The point is that the abundance of pairs is both relevant and very deliberate. 

Fundamental design

From the moment we first see them in the train CG, Desmond and Eloise are together. When we first formally meet them, they are the only ones in the courtyard. They are a pair from the beginning in the same way as Mark and Jett and Wolfgang and Grace. 

And, on first looks and first meetings, I’ll begin my thoughts on how they as individual characters relate to each other as foils with their visual designs and names. Being fictional characters, there was an entire design process filled with intent that went into creating them, and I really think Desmond and Eloise were created with the other in mind to make them both contrast and complement each other. 

Their contrasting colour schemes of blue and black VS red and white immediately relate them to one another and put them in proximity of one another. Through their colour schemes they have been designed to be seen next to each other. 

It is also their colour schemes that give instant insight into how they contrast each other in personality. Desmond’s blue suits his cool, composed disposition, his observant nature and how, although he is more reserved, he still integrates with the group and is a primary contributor. Throughout the situation and throughout all the suspicion he endures based on his talent, Desmond remains calm, in part, I think, because he knows he cannot afford to appear angry lest it confirm people’s biases. Considering how prominent that idea of prejudice has been with Desmond so far, I also heavily doubt him being designed as Black is coincidental or without connotations. Especially when you consider just how irrational the suspicion and assumptions placed upon him are. 

(Desmond’s third Free Time Event, talking about how difficult a confined space like the academy is for him) Damon, internally: And yet, that cool demeanour of his never falters - even when talking about his situation. Is this what he means when he talks about discipline…?

Conversely, Eloise’s red speaks to her being more volatile - prone to outbursts of fear, panic and, notably, rage. It is interesting to me that Eloise’s colour scheme is primarily white/grey, with her reds as secondary and, in her clothing, beneath her uniform. But her eyes, the “windows to the soul”, are red. Eloise at first impression seems only timid, and this leads both characters and audience alike to assume that she is weak, and she is also reserved and rather closed off especially in conversation with the likes of Damon. But Eloise has a strong fortitude that manifests later in chapter one as she gains confidence in the setting - standing up to and threatening Grace, leading the accusations towards Grace in the trial, and her Free Time Events most notably. Her red is closed off until triggered. Damon notes that “the most confident she’s ever sounded” is when she’s expressing her belief that the runners of the killing game should receive the death penalty which so starkly contrasts with Desmond’s focus on resolving things peacefully. Similarly to Desmond being Black, I also heavily doubt that Eloise being designed as fat is without connotations regarding this theme.

The meanings of their names push this even more blatantly. Desmond’s name is of Anglo-Saxon origin and means “Great defender” which adds to how spelled out the theme of guarding, protection, defence becomes in his character during chapter one - notably in relation to himself and Eloise. In his blackmail, which I will go into in more detail later, it explicitly says he “guards the only one he trusts”. This defence finds contrast with offence in Eloise’s name being of French and Teutonic origin meaning “Fierce warrior” which speaks to how assertive she becomes when pushed. Her Free Time Events serve as good indication with how she says outright to Damon that she plans to fight back if targeted for murder and expresses anger when he starts “prying into [her] personal life” in an outburst of “It’s none of your f-fucking business!”. Down to their names they present as foils.

Linking to this talk on personalities and first impressions is how these two contrast in how they are perceived by other characters and audience alike - their shared theme of “judging a book by its cover”. 

While Eloise has a talent centred around combat and wielding a blade, she is not nearly suspected the same way Desmond is due to her appearance as pale and soft in conjunction with her timidity, with the decision to make her fat adding to this as well. She is actually afforded first impressions based on personality, where Desmond is instead defined by potential threat in his marksmanship - the first thing Wolfgang ever says to him is, “With all of those weapons, I must ask…you…haven’t killed anyone, have you?”, and Eva’s belief that everyone is out to get her and have marked her as an easy target merges with preconceived notions about Desmond’s character and talent to lead her to assert that telling Desmond about his blackmail could “put [her] in danger”.  Contrasingly, in building up to their confrontation of Grace, Damon perceives Eloise as “bumbling”, “uncoordinated”, and not of “any help in a verbal shutdown”, and he proceeds to be utterly proven wrong - with the use of “uncoordinated” in reference to the Ultimate Fencer giving great indication of his poor judge of character. This contrast, then, makes it notable how they stick together and understand each other in a way others do not. 

(RE his bunking idea: Eloise understands what Desmond’s intentions are while others assume ill of him) Cassidy: I mean - hey, don’t expose us! That’s unfair! Desmond: Hold on, I’m not trying to expose anyone…! Eloise: Um, I think I get what he’s trying to say. Eloise: You just want everyone to be honest with each other…so we can cover all our bases…right? Desmond: Yeah…that’s right… (During the chapter one investigation as Grace guards Wolfgang’s room and denies everyone entry) Desmond: That’s what I tried telling everyone else, but they pretty much gave up. Jett and Mark went to the dining hall, Diana went to the laundry room, and Toshiko and Ingrid went to the courtyard.  Desmond: Eloise and I, though…we’re not gonna let this slide.

When going through their Free Time Events, it becomes clear that Desmond and Eloise even contrast each other when it comes to their backgrounds and honing of their talents. Desmond comes from a notably wealthy family who have a history of Ultimate Marksmen - that talent being as hereditary as literal genetics. From the start, Desmond has been showered in opportunity - he mentions having an expansive field that puts the academy’s courtyard to shame, a personal shooting range, a personal tennis court, and a personal swimming pool. He used to attend competitions on a local and regional scale until he got the opportunity to compete in the Olympics. 

Comparatively, Eloise had no such influence when it came to getting into fencing and simply joined a club and her honing of her talent was defined by a lack of opportunity. She rose through the ranks via forfeits - her opponents were so afraid they point-blank refused to fight her and so she had to take matters of improving into her own hands by practicing alone or with her teacher. Her lack of opportunity stems from how her family is certainly not as well-off as Desmond’s and she comments on giving her prize money to her mother and sisters. This is a point of similarity between the two - they both disregard the money they have earned through their talent for themselves and instead place focus on their families. Desmond cares more about making his parents proud, and Eloise cares more about giving the money to her family. 

Beyond every aspect in how Desmond and Eloise foil each other is how similar thematically they are in a way that allows them to understand and trust one another in a way they don’t seem to lend to anyone else. They understand that the other is perceived by strangers in a way that doesn’t necessarily align with their fully realised selves, Desmond’s calmness soothes Eloise’s volatility, Eloise’s sword takes the front while Desmond’s guns and bows take the rear - they are an inversion of each other and interwoven as a pair.

To finish off with their fundamental designs, official art for Project: Eden’s Garden is, in my opinion, interesting to look at. Desmond and Eloise are depicted next to or interacting in some way with each other in every piece of official art they share which pushes them further as a ‘pair’. It really emphasises how rarely in-game they’re apart - with the only instances of that being during nighttime, every free-time after the first one, and most prominently the Prologue’s investigation. Otherwise, they are always at least in the proximity of each other. I don’t think official art and seeing which characters appear together the most and how exactly they are interacting is insignificant at all - two sets of Halloween official art stand out to me as entwining Desmond and Eloise by their talents. In one, Desmond is dressed as Link from the Legend of Zelda and wielding a blade and, in the other, Eloise is dressed as Artemis from Greek Mythology - the Goddess of the Hunt who was known for her archery, a choice that becomes especially interesting once you remember that Artemis’ fellow archer brother, Apollo, was heavily associated with swans. 

Blackmail, blackmail

“With his weapons at hand, Desmond guards the only one he trusts.”

Since I posted my initial interpretations of this on TikTok, I’ve seen more discussion on it, and I don’t think it is controversial at all to suggest that the “only one” referred to here is Eloise. The only other options, to me, are this “only one” being someone outside of our main cast or Desmond himself. However, I have found myriad evidence that points towards it being Eloise that I’ve spread across different videos on TikTok but can now relay all in one place here. 

First, what is meant by “weapons”? As the Ultimate Marksman, Desmond has access to guns and bows in the literal meaning of that and this is how Eva, Damon and everyone else interprets it. It is also true - Desmond is always depicted with his quiver slung over his back, so he does indeed have his weapons at hand. However, there is another way of looking at this - Desmond’s “weapons” do not have to be literal. 

During chapter one’s trial, Grace admonishes everyone for “trusting Desmond so easily” after he defends himself from accusations based on the taser gun and Damon has the option of commenting on Desmond’s charisma that persuades people to trust him (or… “charm” as he puts it). Desmond’s “weapons” could refer to his rhetoric, especially with how he utilises the angle of ethos in comparison with Damon’s logos and Diana’s pathos - that being, focusing on getting across and defending his character, something that as previously discussed Desmond is exhaustively used to doing. His “guard” could manifest in him coming to this “only one”’s defence in verbal bouts just as much as it can be taken literally, something that we have in fact already seen if you subscribe to the idea of that person being Eloise.

Next, the meaning of “trusts” should be dug into. It is easy to assume that because Desmond behaves cordially with everyone and seems to possess a vested interest in getting everyone out of the killing game and to safety this means he is openly trusting in the way Diana is, but there is a lot once you start looking that proves otherwise. Desmond does not vehemently deny the possibility of murder like Wolfgang or Diana do but instead accepts the reality of their situation and approaches it with the knowledge of murder in his mind. He is against exploring the Alpha Sanctuary due to whatever Tozu has hidden within it, he takes note of the dangers of the pharmacy and what drugs could possibly be used to murder - even saying that “we should all start paying more attention to our food” - and is the one to come up with the bunk buddies idea due to the broken locks. Desmond does not trust that his peers absolutely will not be tempted by murder. Most illuminating is during his second Free Time Event when Damon tries to use the trustworthiness of the other students as a debate topic and Desmond becomes noticeably uneasy and closed off. 

Damon: How about… we debate the trustworthiness of the other students? Desmond: Huh…? What do you mean? Damon: Isn’t it self-explanatory? You and I argue about whether or not the others are trustworthy. Desmond: Uh… I don’t know, dude. I’m not really comfortable with that. Damon: Why? Desmond: W-what do you mean why? I can’t just say my… (own emphasis) Desmond: I mean, I can’t just throw doubt at people for no reason. 

Despite this, he still wants said peers to trust him. His motivation to escape the killing game and prevent murder, I believe, is genuine - however, he remains beneath the veil of hypocrisy in how he expects everyone to trust him without him trusting them. 

So, how does this link to Eloise? 

From the prologue, the theme of Eloise and Desmond being each other’s alibis and backing each other up is established. Wolfgang asks Desmond to keep a shaken Eloise company and he does so for the duration of all the other introductions. When the fake body of Cara is discovered, Eloise insists that she heard no screaming from the courtyard nor did anyone run out, and calls on Desmond to back her up, which he does. This is the first exchange of trust and reliance between them, and it only strengthens during chapter one. 

The first major instance is in relation to Desmond’s idea of sleeping in pairs. Knowing his distrust towards his peers and that he has this one person he has an interest in protecting, it is notable both that he would be the one to raise concerns about the broken locks and that he would proceed to input that, “As the one who suggested the idea, I’d say we just pick our buddies ourselves-”. Desmond wanted to choose his bunk buddy, ostensibly so he would be able to more readily “guard” them, and this, I think, is crucial as evidence that the “only one he trusts” is someone among the class. While he doesn’t respond outwardly negatively to Toshiko’s desire to be in charge of the pairs and Ingrid’s subsequent assertion that they split by gender, this is easily explained by how intent he is on maintaining a calm disposition. 

Eloise’s behaviour in this scene is equally noteworthy. She defends Desmond from accusations that he’s making people vulnerable and that she harkens to ideas of honesty and understanding Desmond’s intentions speaks to a building closeness between them. Much like Desmond, Eloise appears selective with her trust through how focus is repeatedly placed on her as ways to assign bunk-buddies is discussed, combined with how her character profile notes how she is “always ready to make her escape if anyone gets too close to her”, which I believe can be applied in both a literal-in-regards-to-fencing and figurative sense. We can discern from her Free Time Events that Eloise holds her privacy close to her and that she has certain people that she openly does not trust nor like - she doesn’t want to have a decision like who is going to be with her at her most vulnerable just chosen for her. 

Toshiko: Fear not! In all my infinite wisdom and kindness, I shall pair the rest of you! Eloise: Ah… that’s not really necessary… (...) Ingrid: Strangers’ll usually be more comfortable spending the night with the same gender. Eloise: Then… we’re splitting it by gender…? (...) Wolfgang: We won’t have Ms. Kayura’s help, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Let’s go. Eloise: … 

Furthermore, it does not feel at all coincidental that the scene directly after Desmond’s blackmail is revealed by Eva sees Grace pressuring Eloise to hand over her blackmail and Desmond attempting to defend Eloise before she reassures him. Eloise’s silence after Grace says that she better not have shown anyone speaks volumes - from the map during Free Time and their alibis for the time of Wolfgang’s murder alike we can explicitly see the amount of time these two have been spending around each other in the courtyard.

Grace: That fencer girl has been giving me the side-eye ever since the blackmail was announced. There’s no other explanation! Grace: Give it! Desmond: H-hey, stop that! Eloise: It’s okay…I’ve got it…

On the morning of Wolfgang’s murder, Desmond and Eloise spent all their time together in that courtyard, paralleling their positioning in the prologue. Just as then, they are each other’s alibis and they are the main one backing the other up. They proceed to stay by the other’s side literally throughout the investigation and figuratively throughout the trial. It is notable that textually Grace and Kai underscore how defensive Eloise and Desmond have been of each other throughout chapter one’s investigation and trial to accuse them of working together - ostensibly, Desmond being the murderer and Eloise his accomplice. When the two of them and Damon confront Grace during the investigation, they are largely backing each other up and adding to each other’s points while Damon chips in on his own - even going as far as to threaten Grace, knowing that she was shot at by Mara before.

Eloise: Um…for us to believe that, we need to see it ourselves… Grace: You think I’m lying? Desmond: There’s a chance you could be, unfortunately.  (...) Eloise: Also, um…couldn’t this be considered breaking the rules…? Eloise: Tozu wants this game to be fair, but… being prevented from searching every room doesn’t seem very fair… Grace: …Even if it isn’t, what are you gonna do? Eloise: … Eloise: I’ll…report it to Tozu. Grace: A-ah? Desmond: Nice idea. What do you say we look for him now? Desmond: If Tozu agrees this is sabotage, he might call Mara to help…

In the trial, when Eloise first accuses Grace, Desmond backs her. When Grace’s innocence is proven and Eloise apologises for accusing her, Desmond continues to press Grace when she shouts at Eloise by insisting she “must know something about [Wolfgang’s] last known whereabouts”. When Desmond brings up the golf clothes and equipment in Wolfgang’s room, Eloise backs him. When Mark accuses Desmond of having access to weapons like the taser gun, Eloise reacts before Desmond does. During the nonstop debate about the taser gun, Eloise brings up her and Desmond’s shared alibi as they were together the whole morning. If the player takes the Pathos Route during the trial, it is Eloise’s voicing of her doubts in voting Diana and wanting to hear her side of the story that then leads into Desmond’s own agreement to hear her out. This series of events, I think, proves a degree of trust that has built between the two that they have not extended to anyone else - even during Eva’s execution and Diana’s speech, the two are depicted together. 

The nature of Desmond’s blackmail combined with how he and Eloise are written in this chapter as consistent supporters of each other and consistently shown together leads me to be rather firm in my belief at the moment that Eloise is this “only one” his blackmail refers to. Their relationship is given as much focus as Damon and Kai and Wolfgang and Grace, which indicates the importance of it and really, really doesn’t bode well for their survival. My personal speculation at this current moment sees Eloise killing in self-defence, in which instance we will see Desmond’s ‘guard’ come to fruition. 

Sharks and swans

It can’t be a P:EG analysis without looking at the characters’ animal motifs - especially with how chapter one confirmed their relevance with the focus on Wolfgang, Eva and Diana in particular!

Desmond’s animal motif is a shark as represented by his shark’s tooth earring and this is immediately notable in tying into the dominating theme of prejudice and “judging a book by its cover” that has presented itself in contrasting ways in his and Eloise’s characters. Desmond being instinctively assumed to be dangerous and a ‘threat’ due to his position as the Ultimate Marksman directly correlates to how sharks are perceived in the media and, by extension, society. One way his shark motif is relevant lies in how it conveys this theme of being misunderstood. 

As previously noted, the first thing Wolfgang ever says to Desmond is an interrogative question about whether or not he has killed someone before, it does not take any amount of mental gymnastics for Eva and Damon to agree Desmond’s blackmail makes him dangerous, and it does not take much convincing for the majority during the trial to agree on his likelihood of murdering Wolfgang due to the taser gun originating from his room. Surely, we are instantly reminded of how sharks are similarly misunderstood as obvious killers due to how they have been negatively sensationalised by the media - leading to a general consensus in society to view them as an inherent threat. 

“Sharks have been vilified in human culture for centuries, and negative attitudes toward sharks continue to pervade mass media, perpetuating stereotypes, often conveying inaccurate information [7–11]. One way the public’s fear of sharks, which resonates deeply and viscerally, manifests itself is a pervasive overestimation of the likelihood of being ‘attacked’” (Andrew Nosal et al, 2016, The Effect of Background Music in Shark Documentaries on Viewers' Perceptions of Sharks, p.2)

Eva asserts that Desmond finding out about her having his blackmail could make her a target and, generally, the other characters are quick to assume ill intention from him. For example, him bringing up how everyone’s locks to their dorms are broken raises accusations of him exposing people and him testing people’s locks sparks similar reaction - with Wolfgang even denying him future agency by saying Desmond should go to him first. 

Desmond’s shark motif combines with how his talent is perceived to beg us as viewers to deconstruct assumptions of him being this ticking time bomb waiting to explode - to pick apart preconceived notions, examine what makes you think that way and why. It is simultaneously fascinating and frustrating to see predictions from fans about how the rest of the game will play out position Desmond as an ‘obvious’ killer due to his marksmanship and because his animal motif is an apex predator painted as a “man-eating monster” by the media, ignoring how his talent has been handled thus far and contributing to the dominating narrative about sharks that does not reflect reality. 

The majority of shark attacks on humans are results of curiosity bites on the shark’s end or mistaking humans for, say, seals. In personifying sharks and acting as if they have the same moral decision making as humans and go out of their way to maim and kill, they have become severely endangered themselves. In an article on shark conservation that analysed how sharks are portrayed in American and Australian media, it was identified that there were “four types of risks from sharks and fourteen types of risks to sharks in the articles” and that “Forty-four percent of the articles mentioned elevated public risk perceptions or fear of sharks” (Bret Muter et al, 2012, Australian and U.S. News Media Portrayal of Sharks and Their Conservation, Conservation Biology, Vol.27, No.1, p.190), which is to say that humans are more of a risk to sharks on the whole than sharks are to humans such as through overfishing, finning and habitat destruction and that this can directly parallel the ‘attacks’ on his character that Desmond has endured so far in the story.

In direct contrast in this respect, there is Eloise and her swan motif represented by her hairpin. The dominating cultural perspective on swans is that they are uniquely beautiful and elegant, they are symbols of purity and aristocracy and are a protected species in many countries including the US, UK and across the whole of the European Union. This places them at the utter opposite end of a general consensus scale to sharks and their features in popular culture reflects this from Hans Christian Andersen’s Ugly Duckling fairy tale to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake ballet.

Swan Lake is of particular note to me due to its duality of the white and black swan that can be applied to Eloise’s characterisation. Through her white clothing, fencer-defined elegance, and timid demeanour, Eloise brings to mind Odette the white swan - or the Swan Princess - who was cursed to be a swan by day and woman by night and who is revered for her beauty and purity. Contrastingly we have Odile, who impersonates Odette while she is bound to her swan form and is the ‘black swan’ - more conniving and wicked. Traditionally, Odette and Odile are roles performed by the same ballerina and so represent this idea of duality even more. Now, Eloise is neither conniving nor wicked, but she certainly is not the ‘Odette’ that people perceive her as on a surface level, and has assertive and, really, quite aggressive talons that unsheathe when she deems necessary. 

(Eloise’s first Free Time Event, unprovoked) Eloise: If…if you ever try to do something to me… Eloise: …then…I’m going to fight back.  (...) Eloise: Once, I completely overpowered a person using just a pen… Eloise: And, uh…if you don’t believe me… Eloise: …I…can give you a taste of what that person felt. 

Additionally tied to this is the Medieval moralist view on swans as symbolic of hypocrisy. The idea stems from Hugh of Fouilloy’s Aviarium where he asserts that swans’ white plumage concealing their supposedly black flesh is reflective of a sinner who conceals their sins with a faux pious front…this line of thinking of “white = morality, black = immorality” is notoriously flawed and susceptible to challenge, and this specific idea alluding to black flesh even more obviously so. However, as a spiritual Christian belief, it is relevant when considering Project: Eden’s Garden not least because the game’s religious allusions ask us to question the very concept of Eden and how Western institutions use religious imagery - especially in how they distort it and use it for their own narrative. Every image of nature in the academy being artificial highlights this. Thus, this old idea about swans and hypocrisy may be taken into account… it is not so much direct hypocrisy that relates to Eloise, but the theme of appearance not reflecting reality and a warning to “not to be deceived by outward appearances” (Natalie Jayne Goodison, Introducing the Medieval Swan, p.12). Eloise’s character profile outright tells us to “not be deceived” (by her “size”, but this can apply generally). 

And this neatly leads into the fact that swans themselves, despite their innocent and pure iconography, are fierce - especially when it comes to defending themselves or their nests. As Aristotle puts it in his (outdated by over two millennia yet still incredibly interesting) work The History of Animals, “[swans] will repel the attack and get the better of their assailant, but they are never the first to attack” (Trans. D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson, 9.12) and Eloise explicitly references this in her fight against her own underestimation and to combat the perception of her as weak both in form and fortitude. Despite what Damon believes, I refute the idea that Eloise’s volatility makes her emotionally weak because chapter one’s trial proves otherwise as does chapter one’s investigation that instantly sees Eloise disprove Damon’s idea of her. Speaking of Damon, it is interesting how he comes to respect and almost understand Desmond who is misunderstood as a threat by others much like himself, but cannot extend the same to Eloise whom he has no axis of relatability to. 

“Still, it is significant that the administrative and agricultural experts voiced concern that aesthetic, cultural, and sentimental ideas about swans guide the birds’ protection in a strange or illogical way, and the resources expert agreed that the main—if not the only—value associated with continued protection of the whooper is sentimental value.” (Shauna Laurel Jones, 2018, Feathered majesty in the grainfield? Conflict, conservation, and the whooper swan in Iceland, p.39)

Desmond’s shark motif presenting through a shark tooth earring is not merely an aesthetic choice and instead possesses symbolic connotations. It is the choice in his design of a shark tooth earring that allows us to connect indigenous beliefs about sharks to his characterisation, as in indigenous Hawai’ian culture, shark teeth are traditionally worn as protective talismans, and certain species of sharks in indigenous Hawai’ian culture also relate to the concept of ‘aumakua’ where under certain conditions a deceased person is reincarnated as a shark and acts as a “beneficent guardian spirit” (Leighton R. Taylor, 1993, Sharks of Hawai’i: their biology and cultural significance, p.19) towards their family, both of which link to the increasingly potent theme of “guard[ing]” in Desmond’s character. 

Similarly, we find ideas of “guard[ing]” with the swan, especially the idea of being guarded. Most blatant is the fact that swans are a protected species in many particularly Western countries such as the United Kingdom, the United States, France, Denmark, Germany, and Iceland, meaning it is illegal to kill or injure them. In a literary sense, we have the Finnish national epic Kalevala wherein the hero Lemminkäinen is tasked with killing a swan that swims and sings in the Lake of Tuonela that surrounds the underworld, but instead he is killed - not textually because he has attempted to kill a swan, but the context of swans as a protected species and how they are symbolically viewed certainly influences this narrative.

However, as a point of contrast, while sharks can be associated with life in the sense of survival and their integral position in ecosystems, keeping them intact, swans are associated overwhelmingly with death. Firstly examining the former, it is notable to me that Desmond’s animal motif is one heavily concerned with conservation efforts to protect against endangerment and extinction, conditions that are in no small part due to human impact. When one sees apex predator their mind tends to swipe to violence, to these creatures being bloodthirsty, instead of taking it for what it really is: an animal that plays an indispensable role in regulating ecosystems. Already, Desmond has cemented himself as a secondary contributor in trials alongside the likes of Jean, Ulysses and Wenona, and within the group he assumes a position not the extent of leadership like Wolfgang and Jean but certainly as a prominent initiator. Sharks have lived for millions of years and their survival is integral to the smooth management of marine ecosystems, to remove them would cause a disastrous knock-on effect. In tandem, the condition of its ecosystem is integral to the survival of the shark, which raises the aspect of Desmond’s Free Time Events that has him lament the lack of open space in the academy. 

“As apex predators, sharks play an indispensable role in regulating marine populations, maintaining biodiversity, and preserving the health of our oceans (amongst many other parts they play in the tapestry of life that is below the waves). However, despite having roamed our oceans for millions of years, they currently face a myriad threats that of our own doing, including overfishing, habitat degradation, and climate change.” (Melissa Cristina Marquez, 2024, Exploring the Intersection of Indigenous Knowledge and Shark Science)

Turning to the association between swans and death is the ever-omnipresent swan song. The myth that swans are silent their whole lives until just before they die, when they sing their haunting song. Eloise can be interpreted according to this in how “silence” can be applied to her initially reserved and shy nature, with the more she develops across the story akin to the theme of transformation found in many European folktales and, unfortunately as a result, becomes closer to death her development in becoming more openly confident will be her “song”.

My personal speculation at the moment is that Eloise will become the blackened through killing in self-defence - something I find fitting for her characterisation, predicted character arc, fencing talent, and swan motif all in one - and so her swan’s song will manifest as her final plight during her trial before she is inevitably sent to death. Relatedly, the conclusion of Swan Lake sees Odette, the swan princess, and Siegried, the prince, die together. I view Desmond and Eloise’s relationship to end in one of two ways - either one of them kills/is killed and the other kills/is killed the chapter after, or one of them kills/is killed and the other survives. Either way, they cannot both live. 

The silver Swan who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat; Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sang her first and last, and sung no more: "Farewell all joys! O death come close mine eyes, More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise." (Unknown author)

And so arrives the final point to wrap this whole essay up in one neat bow: Eloise’s swan motif presents in her unwavering loyalty as a pair with Desmond. This is so unsubtle that it is underscored by Grace and Kai in the chapter one trial, sending accusations of them working together to murder their way. As has been reiterated, the two are seldom not depicted together, react to accusations towards each other with the same intensity were they to be directed at them, and defend each other with a consistency they do not afford any other character, with only Diana coming close in Eloise’s case. Like swans who mate for life, Eloise and Desmond have essentially become pair bonded. This happening so quickly is not necessarily a cause for doubt either in my opinion as that also connects to swans who bond as a pair even before they reach sexual maturity at twenty months despite living for a good two decades, and we know Eloise and Desmond’s time is far shorter than that. 

“Someone has to leave first.  This is a very old story.  There is no other version of this story.” (Richard Siken, War of the Foxes)

With everything we have of them so far, regardless of how Desmond and Eloise’s individual stories play out, they will be in one way or another entwined. 

Thank you for reading, and I would love to know your thoughts!

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

Aristotle, Thompson D. W.,The History of Animals

Goodison N. J., 2023, Introducing the Medieval Swan

Hugh, 1172, Aviarium

Jones S. L., 2018, Feathered majesty in the grainfield? Conflict, conservation, and the whooper swan in Iceland

Lönnrot E., 1835, The Kalewala

Marquez M. C., 2024, Exploring the Intersection of Indigenous Knowledge and Shark Science

Muter B. et al., 2012, Conservation Biology, Australian and U.S. News Media Portrayal of Sharks and Their Conservation, Vol. 27, No. 1

Nosal A. et al., 2016, The Effect of Background Music in Shark Documentaries on Viewers' Perceptions of Sharks

Taylor L. R., 1993, Sharks of Hawai’i: their biology and cultural significance

Tchaikovsky P. I., The Swan Lake Ballet

[konnosaurus]

after all this time working on them, konno finally has humanisations!! just these guys for now but there will indeed be more to come. i've had so much fun with these so i hope that you guys like them :3 they Will be showing up alongside my engine stuff hehe!

i'm gonna stick some design notes under the cut in case anyone is interested!:

thomas:

actually the last of these i designed. as always, i find him Difficult, but i am happy with what i have done :3

the bracelet around his ankle was made by percy- james and percy also have them, just in different places. thomas doesn't like things around his wrists or arms in general (no tight sleeves, either!) so has his on his ankle!

originally the jacket was a non-zipped hoodie but it didn't feel Dynamic enough for him, so i decided to go for the open jacket look. it feels more active- perfect for the cheeky lad himself.

he does know how to tie his laces, he just Cannot Be Bothered.

edward:

this design came the most naturally. i didn't really have to do any second guessing or anything- edward is edward and he just felt like edward to me!

of these seven, he is the only one who wears glasses. he is NOT, however, the only one who needs glasses. gordon, james and emily should heed his advice and get some themselves (they will not.)

originally his trousers were going to be a much darker brown, but the lighter just felt a lot more old-man-comforting which i feel fits his pizazz better.

henry:

henry :3

henry is the sort of person to have a little bag that just contains like,, Anything that one could need in a situation. you require an item? henry has it!

the long skirt was initially alllll the way to the floor, but i wanted to show a bit of boot to make it just,, lightly more practical than a full floor-length one. it is a very swishy skirt.

henry has my favourite face/hair design of them all i just love how poofy the hair is and the little EXPRESSIONNNN!

gordon:

mr professionally dressed!

he wears old man shoes because i can't imagine gordon not wearing old man shoes even though he does not consider himself an old man. someone calls them old man shoes and he goes home and cries.

he's got some Muscle to him- beneath those sleeves he has got the p o w e r. also a bit of chink- not all that much, but he is noticably Wide as well as Tall.

james:

my favourite design for my favourite little lad!

i wanted him to be flashy but not Overly obnoxious- his vest is bright and his jewelry is dramatic but he also has some more muted colours. having a scheme is very important to him- the only thing that breaks it is the friendship bracelet from percy that he has on his wrist.

he has long boots because he would have long boots <3

the red strips in his hair are entirely just because he wants to be more red and more colour coordinated.

percy:

his trousers brush the floor because he is not the tallest and the ones he liked weren't quite the right lengths. so many people he knows could shorten them for him but he actually quite likes them like that.

percy gets freckles just because i wanted him to have them hehehe no other reasoning!

his green is a lot more yellowy and bright than henrys more dull and sappy greens, and his red is a lot deeper than henrys more pinky red.

his bag has his little friendship charm on the buckle. he doesn't wear it as a bracelet like thomas or james do- it stays on his bag because he loves his bag and is never without it.

emily:

despite her engine being a dark green, her main outfit piece (the dungarees) is a lighter green. this is Entirely just because i liked how it looked better.

her boots have detailing meant to be like her great race livery!

emily had one of the easiest outfits for me to design- she just feels like a dungaree sort of gal to me, and i just worked from there! the little gold patterns on her dungaree pocket are meant to reflect the big ol wheel pattern on the stirling single.

and there we have it!

[moanz111]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 20

chapter 20 ✧ unforeseen circumstances - written + texts

< previous ✧ m.list ✧ next >

synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

wc ✧ 4.2 k (i apologise)

warnings ✧ english is not my native language so there could be mistakes; attempt for humour; reader is confused af and so is san; swearing; mentioned fear of heights (reader is a bit scared but the description is very brief and she's riding a ferris wheel); reader is in an emotional crisis lowkey; lmk if i've missed something

If you got a penny every time you got yourself into an extremely uncomfortable situation, you would’ve had at least 20 by now and it was just 1 pm. 

You weren't going home anytime soon. 

“Y/n, stop spacing out. We still have 2 more hours,” Beomgyu whispered in your ear, nudging you with his elbow. You had agreed to come to this so-called “Love Alarm” dating event just to make him happy and maybe test your own alarm again, but you hadn’t had any idea it was going to be this excruciating for your poor soul. You tried your best to smile, talk to people when they showed interest but with each interaction your social battery was rapidly dying. Beomgyu, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life which made you feel a little guilty for having running away thoughts.

The park was bustling with students and music could be heard playing from speakers placed on the ground. Most of the benches were occupied by groups of friends or newly found matches that the alarm had brought together. A pinch of jealousy stung your heart by the sight of them. 

Wish my alarm and I weren't in a dysfunctional toxic relationship.

You let your eyes wander, trying to spot familiar faces even though the thought of someone you knew seeing you there, mortified you. The possibility of that wasn’t high but never zero since all of your university’s students were invited and granted an entry. You found it kind of funny - the way so many were positive their soulmate was walking the same ground as them right now and what they were waiting for was the love alarm to bring them together. For some that would be the case but others were surely up for disappointment. No one really knew how the whole mechanism worked and it appeared that everything was random - the time, the place but the alarm was certain of one thing - the person. 

Shaking your head as if it could chase away your thoughts, you took in the atmosphere and breathed in the fresh early spring air, the warm breeze ruffling  your hair which you moved out of your face, annoyed. 

“Can’t we go sit down and eat? If I talk to one more man, I’ll explode,” you said, stopping in your tracks and pointing towards an empty blanket on the grass near you. A bunch of people were lying down on the field, chatting, eating or playing board games. You wished you had brought your cards deck. A rematch with Beomgyu was all you wanted after he had beaten you in a game of war last weekend. 

“Fine,” Beomgyu rolled his eyes, strolling towards it and you followed quietly behind him. If you made him talk enough and maybe made him ride the ferris wheel with you, maybe he would get tired enough so both of you could go home. As if sensing your plan, he abruptly turned around, “Stop scheming, we aren't leaving.”

You let out a sigh and sat down on the white blanket with colourful flowers drawn on it. It was warm and fluffy and it tickled your hands as you plopped yourself down, supporting your body on your elbows. Maybe if you fell asleep then…

“Hey, isn't that Wooyoung?”

Yeah, your plan was definitely going down the drain. 

If Wooyoung saw you here, he would make fun of you for centuries and he could even tell Mingi about it. Or even worse. Choi San.

Choi San? Who was currently walking beside his friend, apparently not having spotted you yet.

He had a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket on, his black jeans matching it. A beanie of the same colour was covering his hair and you noticed a necklace dangling around his neck. 

He looked…good?

... handsome? 

You shoved your thoughts away and focused on Wooyoung instead who wore his usual black Chrome Hearts hoodie and some baggy jeans, a beanie on his head. The two boys’ outfits matched which made you smile to yourself. But who were you to laugh when you and Beomgyu weren't any better. Your closets were basically almost identical. 

“Over here,” Beomgyu shouted as he got up to catch their attention. This was going to be the most mortifying interaction of the day. 

Another penny added.

“Beomgyu, don't call them over here,” you whispered as you got up to a seated position, tugging at his jeans. 

“Don’t be so obsessed with me, they’re my friends too.”

You snorted at his answer, turning to look at the boys who were approaching you. Wooyoung was enthusiastically waving in your direction while San looked indifferent to what was about to happen.

Lately, it was harder to be around him. After he made the step to try and make amends with you, you weren't sure how to behave around him. Did that make you friends again? Or maybe just acquaintances? Whatever it was you tried your hardest to be on your best behaviour especially for Wooyoung and Mingi’s sake. For Seonghwa’s too. You had no idea how he managed to stay so composed while you bickered over nothing during tutoring. Maybe he was due his apology soon.

“Now, now, look who we have here,” Wooyoung exclaimed as he stood in front of you, grinning. San was next to him, greeting Beomgyu with a hug. “I’m hurt, Y/n. You could've just asked me out instead of coming here.”

“You and Y/n? I’d rather bleach my eyes than witness this,” Beomgyu chimed in before you got the chance to respond to which Wooyoung laughed.

“Makes two of us,” San added, a slight annoyance apparent in his tone, and you looked at him curiously. For the first time in a while you weren't met with his cold eyes, piercing right through you. His gaze was warm, maybe even friendly? 

My brain is playing tricks on me.

“Don��t be so jealous, Sannie,” Wooyoung said, tapping him on the shoulder which earned him a smack on the neck. “Ouch?”

“Deserved,” Beomgyu laughed and looked over at you. “Cat got your tongue? Oh, right, she said she doesn't want to talk to men anymore today.”

“Trust me, you will get the longest silent treatment out of everyone here.”

“Mean.”

“So what are you two doing here?” Wooyoung asked, changing the topic just as you and Beomgyu were about to start bickering again. Truly fascinating how the biggest instigators turned into peacemakers in dire situations. 

“Y/n wants a boyfriend and since I’m an amazing friend, I came to judge her questionable taste,” Beomgyu teased and you pulled at the fabric of his jeans again, making him slightly lose his balance. 

“He wanted to say he was the one who dragged me here because he can't go anywhere alone,” you said in a matter of fact tone which got a chuckle out of Wooyoung. 

“This version is more believable.”

“And what about you two,” you asked, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible even though curiosity burned in you. You could imagine Wooyoung coming to an event like that but San? It wasn’t like you knew him that well anyway, maybe he was looking for a partner. For some reason, the thought of that made your stomach twist a little. 

Huh…?

“I dragged San here,” Wooyoung announced proudly and wrapped his hand around his friend’s wide shoulders and San threw him a sarcastic smile. “Don't tell anyone though, it's between the four of us.”

“Yeah, and the 10 other people who saw us here and greeted you,” San added.

“Oh, well…That’s something I can’t control. Having a pretty face means attracting attention.”

“Anyway, why don't we hang out for some time? Y/n and I were just about to eat,” Beomgyu suggested suddenly and all you could do was to side eye him. Sure, of course they were his friends but you and San in the same space was never a good idea.

“A spectacular idea!” Wooyoung’s enthusiasm was contagious. You had to calm down and enjoy the moment, Choi San wasn't the cause of every problem in the universe and he wasn't even that bad. He had a good sense of humour and he had a pretty laugh and dimples and you loved his habit of him closing his eyes when he found something funny and-

“Y/n to Earth…” Beomgyu’s voice brought you back to reality and you shook your head. What was in the air today? Maybe it was the pollen that had you acting this weirdly? “You totally spaced out.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said after coughing quietly to clear your voice and you shifted your focus to Wooyoung who you thought had probably said something moments ago, judging by the amused expression on his face. Staring at your shoes all day and spacing out wasn't going to make things better. “What were you saying?”

“I said me and Beomgyu will go grab some food from the trucks and you and San can stay here and wait,” he repeated and you shifted uncomfortably in your place. Yes, the universe was testing you.

Sure, you had been alone with him plenty of times be it for tutoring or when you used to hang out before but now it felt different. Your nerves were going to eat you inside out. 

San had an unreadable expression on his face when you looked at him and Beomgyu just winked (?) at you when you turned to him so you just shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

“I’m okay with that, too,” added San and Beomgyu and Wooyoung looked at each other, a knowing smile forming on both of their lips. 

“Then we’re set,” Beomgyu clapped his hands and patted you on the shoulder as he bent to pick up his bag from the ground. “Behave yourself.”

“What am I? A dog?”

“Obviously. Then, see you in a bit.” As both Beomgyu and Wooyoung turned their back on you and walked towards the food trucks, you felt abandoned. Maybe that was a little dramatic. San was just San. No need to be so stressed. You could just sit in silence and that was going to be it. No need to have a conversation. 

“So how are you doing?” San asked as he laid down on his side next to you, his hand supporting his head. You could sense the scent of his perfume and his biceps were basically almost ripping his jacket in this position. His face was glowing, his clear skin illuminated by the sunlight, gently coming through the tree’s branches. Mentally, you slapped yourself across the face. Staring was rude. 

“I’m alright,” you answered, trying to find strength again. You seriously needed to stand up. Choi San shouldn't have had that much power over your mind. “Exhausted after the social torture Beomgyu put me through.”

San chuckled at your comment, his dimples slightly appearing. “I guess I understand why he and Wooyoung get along.”

“They’re friends?” 

“Shouldn't you know that,” he asked, confused, one of his eyebrows raised. You knew they knew each other. Obviously, Beomgyu was close with San so it was only natural for him to be around Wooyoung too but your friend never talked about this, given how your relationship with San was. 

“I just had no idea they were that close,” you said simply. San regarded you curiously for a moment before speaking again. “I think they’ve got closer recently. I don't know how or why but they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Then they’re definitely up to no good.” This was truly interesting. Beomgyu was notorious for doing things behind your back so you wondered if this was the case this time around too. Him making remarks about your dating life all the time, telling you to stop “adding more men to the equation”, him giving Wooyoung your number, you joining his talent show team, him flirting all the time, San, his best friend and your arch nemesis, suddenly following you on your social media and being kind of friendly, and now Beomgyu dragging you here and Wooyoung was miraculously here too? Was he…No way. There was no way.

Was he setting you up with Wooyoung? 

The thought made you shiver. There was just no way for this to be happening. 

You stopped yourself from gasping at the realisation and instead closed your eyes to take a deep breath. Beomgyu was going to get an earful from you very soon.

Maybe you could ask San about it? But what were you going to say to him?

Hey, I think my best friend is trying to set me up with your best friend so I wanted to ask you if he’s in love with me?

…

I sound so delusional and out of my mind.

You chose silence and turned to look at San who was staring at the small stage being set up a few meters away from you. There was going to be a concert later in the afternoon organised by the university’s band and you wondered if Beomgyu would make you stick around for this long to watch it. 

Suddenly, your phone vibrated in your tote bag and you took it out, seeing you’ve got a text from Beomgyu.

You sighed, locking your phone and turning to San again. “Beomgyu said Wooyoung feels sick so they went back to the dorms.”

“What? Is he okay? I should go there too,” San said and took out his phone. 

“He said they didn't need help and he just needed to take some pills. But you can text him, just in case…” you trailed off, unsure of what to do now. San didn't answer, instead focusing on his phone, seemingly reading a text. His eyebrows furrowed more and more with each movement of his eyes and he rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Yeah, he has texted me. Apparently, he doesn't need any more assistance and will take a nap.”

“Well, then I won't keep you if you want to go home too,” you said even though you weren't sure if you wanted to do that yet. Yes, you absolutely hated the speed dating and Beomgyu dragging you around but this was also a chance to maybe find out what Choi San’s issue with you was. If you cornered him…

That sounds too insane.

“No! I mean,” San hesitated. “We can at least grab some lunch together. Wouldn't hurt, would it?”

“I suppose not,” you said, smiling slightly and surprisingly San did the same.

Hanging out with your so-called arch nemesis wasn't as bad as you thought it could be. 

San ordered for you, paid for your lunch, treated you to some bubble tea and then got you ice cream. Yeah, maybe it sounded like wallet abuse on your part but in reality he just kept insisting on doing all this and wouldn't hear any of your protests. It was a bit flustering even if you were secretly enjoying it. His company was also nice. He was respectful, kept the conversation going and surprisingly he seemed to be having a good time too. 

Time seemed to pass by quickly while you were together. You found yourself talking about anything and everything with him - he told you about his current florist job, how annoying some customers were and how much he adored making bouquets and arrangements, and you told him about your love for clothes and fashion and how you still haven’t returned Hongjoong his sewing machine. You joked, you laughed and you felt liberated in a way. For the first time in a while  you didn’t have to tiptoe around San, too afraid that the thin ice beneath your feet was going to crumble.

Is this what happens when we aren't so stubborn?

Currently, you were sitting on a bench, taking in the atmosphere around you in comfortable silence as the last sunbeams were illuminating the sky. The sunset painted it in shades of orange, pink and purple and you sighed contently, bopping your head in the rhythm of the song that the university’s band was rehearsing. A small group of people had already gathered and was clapping in encouragement after each song. San was humming quietly next to you, tapping with his foot and you snorted. “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?”

“What do you mean,” he said surprised and turned to look at you. His natural soft blush could be seen on his cheeks and your heart warmed up at the sight. For probably the 10th time today. He had taken his beanie earlier and now his messy locks were falling freely around his face.

“Being good at dancing and now even at singing? Can’t you leave something for the rest of us?”

Your comment earned you a chuckle from San, his fist coming up to cover his lips. you could swear his cheeks turned into a deeper shade of red. “No need to exaggerate, Y/n. Lying is bad.”

“Hey, I’m being serious,” you exclaimed. “But better hide that talent from Beomgyu. He would get even more mad that we aren’t in the same team for the talent show. I heard he has been looking for a vocalist.”

“And while we’re still on the topic,” San said, running his hand through his dark hair. “Why did you agree to join our team?”

“It was a good opportunity to practice my skills. Plus, Wooyoung was way too enthusiastic for me to turn him down.”

“Even though you have to spend more time with me too?” When you met his eyes, a glint of hope and maybe hurt could be read in them. When had things gone so irrevocably wrong with both of you? 

“Listen,” you started, unsure of what to say. There wasn’t truly a right or wrong answer. “I don’t mind spending time with you, it’s just so…”

“Awkward?” “You could say so. But it’s also hard because I have no idea what I have done to you. I want to fix this,” you gestured to the space between you two. “But again - you aren’t helping. Maybe I’m not doing it either. We’re both stubborn.”

“Yes, we are I suppose,” San agreed, seemingly deep in thought. “I just don’t know how much I can tell you and how much you know…”

“What do you mean?”

A ding interrupted San who had just opened his mouth to answer. “I’m sorry.”

You hurriedly took your phone out of your pocket and saw you had 5 new texts from none other than Beomgyu.

Feeling your heart picking up its pace, you clenched your jaw. You were so so so so wrong earlier. Beomgyu wasn’t setting you up with Wooyoung. 

It was San all along.

The tutoring, the way Beomgyu was so opposed of you hanging out with Yeonjun, the way he was trying his hardest to force you and San to interact...

You wondered if Wooyoung was his accomplice then and what had he told San? Did San know anything? 

“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale,” San’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you locked your phone, forcing yourself to look at his now concerned face as he put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Everything’s alright. It’s just Beomgyu being a menace.” You smiled lightly and you fought the urge to get up and run away. 

Even if the situation was becoming severely uncomfortable with each passing second, this all didn’t automatically overrule how happy you were with San today. You got to see his usual sweet self and not whatever was presented to you on the daily. You also had got so close to him opening up to you so you couldn’t just leave him like that. Your heart was greedy to spend some more time with him before you had to deal with whatever Beomgyu thought he was doing. 

“Are you scared of heights?” Your sudden question made San furrowed his brows confused and you just pointed to the ferris wheel shyly. 

As San took your hand gently and led you to the tickets queue, all you could see were his deep dimples.

Yes, you were positive your heart was going to burst today.

You were a little scared of heights. 

But exposure therapy worked, right? It had to because currently you were hanging meters away from the ground and the only thing you could think about was how you were almost able to feel San’s breath hitting your face. The cabin was rather small and his form being much bigger than yours meant he was taking most of the space even if you were sitting across from each other. Your legs were between his and occasionally your knees would touch which sent a jolt down your spine that you were desperately trying to ignore. 

Instead, you focused on the view before you - the sun had completely disappeared under the moon’s watchful gaze and now the city’s  and the campus’ lights were shimmering like stars in the distance. San’s surprised squeaks would make you giggle now and then when he was showing you something he had spotted while the ferris wheel was spinning slowly. 

“This is my first time riding a ferris wheel,” San said quietly, drawing your attention back to him. Even though the cabin lacked lighting, you could still see the playfulness in his eyes as he looked at you intently. 

“It’s my first time too,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. Was it always this hot here? 

“Really? That’s rather special, Y/n,” San teased you. “Wouldn’t you rather share this moment with someone else? I’ll start thinking we’re friends.” “Well,” you coughed, clearing up your voice. “I’d say I would like to consider us friends given how civilised we were today.”

San laughed loudly, his whole body shaking, “That’s true. Then - friends?”

“Friends,” you answered grinning and took his extended hand to shake it, sealing your deal. His hand was hugging yours completely and you wished you could stay like this a little longer when you lost contact with his skin. “You still haven’t told me the whole story behind our enemies era though.”

“Shouldn’t you tell me your point of view too?

“I was just returning the energy you were giving me.”

“Deserved,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s say this can wait for another time. I don’t want to ruin this moment like any other we’ve had lately.”

Something passed in his eyes, an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher but when were you able to do it when it came to San?

So now, locking eyes with him once again, you felt electricity buzzing between the two of you as he leaned in closer to you. Unspoken words were hanging around you and filled the space but you shoved those aside and noticed his gaze going back and forth between your eyes and lips. You felt your cheeks heating up under his stare and you held your breath, too scared to make even the quietest noise. Your faces were mere centimeters away from each other and

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you cursed your phone mentally. You were sure you put it on dnd mode earlier.

“Don’t worry. Answer it,” San said softly and smiled at you, leaning back on his seat and putting some distance between you two. It wasn’t like you were going to kiss anyway. Right?

Nodding, you reached for your bag, forgotten on the seat next to you and your hand was searching for it impatiently until you felt it and took it out. Just as your trembling fingers were about to unlock it, the cabin shook causing you to drop your phone on the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay. I think we’ll have to get off soon,” San explained as he reached down to grab your phone for you. “And you really need to stop apologising.”

At this moment the doors opened and the employee announced that 20 minutes had passed so the fun was officially over. You stepped out first, feeling a little dizzy and walked to the side so you could wait for San without blocking the way. 

Seconds after, he came next to you, handing you your phone with an unreadable expression, “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” you said, panic arousing inside you. 

What if it was Beomgyu again and he saw his weird texts? Or even worse - it was the group chat since Beomgyu never knows when to shut up-

“I’ll go get us some water, you can wait here if you want to,” San said as he looked around. “There’s an empty bench there.”

“I’ll go sit there then.” 

Parting ways with him even for a bit, gave you room to process what had just happened in the cabin and you sat down with a sigh. Your feet hurt because you chose to wear your new shoes today out of all days and more than anything you felt so many different emotions at once that you had no idea which one to focus on first and it made you even more mentally exhausted. You weren’t sure what was happening between the two of you but whatever it was - it was gaining momentum way too quickly. 

Are we crazy? Yesterday we got into yet another argument and today…

Reading your texts, you decided, was the easiest task for now but as you unlocked your phone, everything came crashing down around you once again. 

Your blood froze as the severity of the situation hit you. The answer had been right under your nose this whole time.

San was possibly your soulmate.

note ✧ i know this got very long and i feel like it's 5 chapters in one but i really want to get things moving so please understand 😭 i haven't written a full length chapter in a while so feedback is greatly appreciated, i hope this isn't that bad (the struggle was real and im not sure im satisfied but)! i hope you enjoyed reading it <3

taglist ✧ @jjaelly ; @cookiechristie ; @downbadreading ; @tubatu-wari-wari ; @giuliadesu ; @alyssajavenss ; @baguette-atiny ; @miriamxsworld ; @mrowwww ; @lynnsqueendom ; @mikaymee ; @stfu-rina ; @moonis-world ; @paragonofroyalty ; @chermonroe ; @lunaryoongie ; @nushkstardust ; @huachengsbestie01 ; @nickiminajleftasscheek ; @seonghwifey ; @stopeatread ; @wildesreblogs ; @staytinyluv ; @flamingi

taglist is open! <3

[live-laugh-lenney]

You should so do a fic where the reader has a podcast (like saving grace) and everyone noticed how comparable she and Arthur seem he. He’s a guest (even though she’s like much more extroverted) would be fun🤞❤️

oh, this would be so cute :'))

if there was one thing yn felt comfortable doing, it was waffling.

she just loved to talk. about anything and everything, from what she had read on twitter to what she had heard about online to a brand new documentary that she had taken an interest in when flicking the channels on the television. delving deep into topics that had endless possibilities, spewing off facts that she'd read about online and putting her own thoughts forward in certain aspects that she found interesting and favourable to whoever she was with.

when she came up with the idea of hosting her very own podcast, in the middle of a housewarming party for one of her friends, she was excited to have a platform where she could let her own thoughts be freed yet she was also terrified it wouldn't take off and that she'd make it to a respectful ten episodes before she gave in and decided it wasn't something that the world needed.

when her first episode came out, she had asked james marriott to be her very first guest. one of her best friends, someone she had known for a while, someone who she felt comfortable around and gave her the space to speak freely without making her feel judged. allowing him to promote his new album as well as allowing them to discuss all kinds of musical knowledge from who their favourite bands were and who he would love to open for on a world tour.

and it took off.

earning herself over half a million views in the passing of one day, a lot of youtube subscribers who were offering their own suggestions on the different guests she could have and the more positivity she saw, the more she read, the more excited she was to continue.

she had herself a sweet studio; big beanbags instead of chairs, with a blanket draped over the back of each one and a decorative pillow that was there for added comfort and matched the colour scheme of the whole room, with shelves nailed to the wall full of relatable objects and images that fit her branding - images of her friends, her podcast name in neon lights and a few faux plants that hung low. it was just a simple setup but it felt homely and that was the vibe she had planned from the very beginning.

"good morning, good afternoon or good evening, depending on when you're checking in. i'm yn and welcome back to the one and only podcast on youtube dot com where we just sit and talk shit for an hour," she grins widely at the camera, cosying back into the beanbag beneath her and crossing her legs, hand holding the microphone to her lips, "today, we're joined the king of 90 day fiancé. it's mister arthur television."

"hello, hi."

he gives the camera a short wave and smiles widely, already having cosied himself down in a similar manner to the way yn was sitting in her beanbag, their shoes (both a sucker for comfort and choosing their air force 1's over any other trainer) kicked off aimlessly onto the rug in the middle of the room and left in a heap, his jacket draped over the back of his seat.

"thank you for having me," he looks in her direction, "this is definitely one of my favourite sets i've ever been on. it feels so homey and wholesome."

"i tried to base it on what my bedroom back home used to look like as a teenager," she giggles softly, looking over her shoulder and flicking on the orb lamp that was placed on a shelf above their heads for a bit of additional lighting to fit the ambience of the room, "i was such a tumblr girl growing up, i think it shows."

"i was gon'a say," he laughs and she rolls her eyes in his direction, "it feels very nice. very comforting. especially with the blankets."

"my nana knitted them for me," yn states, "just for this podcast. she's an avid listener, my number one fan, ."

"really?"

"no. i'm kidding," yn laughs softly and he looks across to her, "i don't think she really gets the whole podcast thing, to be honest. she's only just started to understand the whole youtube thing, bless her. she's a sweet soul and i love her but she's so innocent when it comes to all things technological."

"you should use that story more," arthur insists and adjusts himself in the seat as he felt himself sliding down into a slouch, "it adds more story to the setup. it's cute."

"i'll tell her you said that. she'll love it," yn giggles, 'but, anyway. you, arthur frederick, are one of my most requested guests to appear on my podcast."

arthur's eyes widened and he can feel the heat covering his cheeks as he looks across to her, microphone still held tight to his lips, hoping it hid the shy smile that grew on his lips.

"seriously. i had people practically spamming me on twitter to get you on here," she explains and looks at the camera, "you're a loved man, aren't you?"

"i guess i am," he admits shyly, "people are also asking me and isaac to get you on the bach and arthur podcast. close second to george."

"we'll have to make that happen," yn grins widely, "the viewers would love that crossover. chaos crew and little ol' me."

"i think you'd fit in perfectly," he says, "at least i'll have someone on there that appreciates my facts and interesting tidbits of information. it gets lost amongst them. they're not so intelligent when it comes to you and i."

she snorts and shakes her head, dropping her eyes down to her lap before she looks back up; he wasn't lying, truth be told. she was no stranger to being in a conversation with him, at parties and at events both of them were attending, that involved exchanged fact after fact after fact with each other, hours passing by as they discussed nature topics and the newest piece of information to do with outer space and all the theories coming from online.

with the hour closing in, she didn't want the conversations to end. and she knew, in the back of her mind, that she needed him back on her podcast for another episode because he understood her. and she understood him. and their talks flowed effortlessly with no need for extra encouragement from those around them in the room.

he was an interesting man and she wanted more.

both personally and for her podcast.

--

anyone else getting heart eye vibes from the two of them???

yn was in her element for this episode!!

arthur being on this podcast just made my day. we need more of the two of them!!!

the way there was no silence at all this entire episode. conversations flow between these two.

the two of them are the same person, i swear.

without a doubt, arthur is the male version of yn. that's adorable.

its like the universe copied and pasted their personalities into two people of the opposite genders. that's so cute!!

--

"the podcast episode was a hit thanks to you."

yn surprises him and made him jump as she approached him at the bar, his figure turning from where he was stood with his back to her so he could pull her in for a hug, and she grins up at him before her own arms wrapped around his waist. a sex on the beach cocktail held tight in her hand and she was careful not to spill it down the back of his shirt.

"i was wondering where you were," he says and lets go of her to pick up his beer that had been placed on the bartop, "when you texted me to say you were coming to chris' birthday drinks, i knew i had to come and find you when you arrived."

"looks like i beat you to it," she says and she takes a sip of her drink through the straw, "people loved the two of us together on there."

"yeah?"

she nods quickly.

"i'm pretty sure it was the best episode to date. figures wise," she says and he grins widely, looking over her shoulder and seeing a free table in the corner of the room, using his head to indicate for her to look at where he was looking, "i'm gon'a need you to feature again, for sure."

she turns on her heels and wiggles her way through the crowd, the feeling of his hand resting on the base of her back driving her insane as she set her drink down on the table and hopped up on the stool, watching as he did the same.

"i'm not keeping you from chris, am i?"

"no, he's about to hop on the karaoke with isaac," arthur cackles out loud and looks over his shoulder at where his two friends were arguing over the song book, "i'm too sober for that at the moment so I can't think of anything worse right now."

"you're not one of those party poopers, are you?"

"no," he shakes his head, "i just need to be almost blackout drunk in order to belt out my lungs really, really poorly."

"i think i need to get some shots in you then because i really need to see that tonight." xx

[huginsmemory]

Thinking about how deliberately colour coded the touden siblings are to the winged lion. Like they have gold eyes and blond hair, directly correlating themselves to the winged lion by colour scheme... And when they both become monstrous, they BOTH are represented with feathers around their neck and chest areas; as the red dragon has no feathers but chimera Falin DOES is interesting as it points to something specific to Falin... only to be repeated when Laios shifts and has the same feathers in the exact same area suggesting it's something unique to the Toudens. I mean whether that really has merit is obtuse really, but if we're going for the winged lion representation angle it makes sense. Interestingly, Marcille also has blonde hair but she has green eyes; not so obviously tied to the winged lion, even if she ends up becoming the dungeon master.

And I wonder if it's a representation within the touden siblings at how by the end they represent/become the lion. Laios is very clear; by consuming the winged lion, he 'becomes one' with the lion, in the most base sense of what you eat you literally are made of... and also in how incredibly horny the panel is. And then quite literally his result of eating the winged lion he's doomed to forever feel hungry and never feel sated; the same thing the winged lion represents, desire without end. He becomes in a way, the winged lion, a human representative of him, after his body also quite literally becoming the human representative of the winged lion, when the winged lion walks around in his own skin. The two of them are foils; both driven by the desire to consume, one a monster and with a desire to consume chiefly humans, while for the other a human the desire to consume monsters, and they in the end swap places; the human becoming a monster and a monster becoming a human, each granting each other their forms. They become in that way instrinsically twisted, and the tables turn on the Lion as the Lion instead of feasting on Laios becomes the one feasted on instead in the same way the Lion normally feasts; again, Laios becoming the lion. Of course, the lion represents more than just un-ending desire, chiefly the portion which talks about the issue of capitalism unchecked desire and consumption. But I think in a way, perhaps that's what is also being hinted too; the way within a community people can help check other peoples desires or help people have desires as is seen in the end with both Marcille and Mithrun. A non-destructive representation of the winged lion one might say. Also, one may say he also becomes the true 'lord of the dungeon' as the winged lion ceases to exist, Laios now ruling instead, taking the winged lions place.

In regards to Falin there's perhaps less obvious or deliberate foiling in comparison, but I think she still by the end in a way represents the winged lion. Chiefly, I think, by her in the first place, being alive; the black magic that brought her back is exactly what invited the winged lion to their world in the first place; without the winged lions existence through the tapping into outside reality, Falin would not be alive. In much the same way, her flesh was created from the red dragon, a creation of the dungeon, and so winged lion. She's only alive in the beginning because of the winged lion, so she represents in a way that no other person does in the manga the winged lion; not a prey of the winged lion, but a creation, or something saved through the winged lion. It's also interesting to see that what she retains is her feathers (even if they're white, not gold) once she's again revived.... squints suspiciously.

Anyways I think there's probably also a lot more coherent things that can be pulled from this analysis but I'm just rambling on about it tbh...I need to reread the manga...

[empressofthewind]

Ranking All Of Matt's Aesthetics

#1 - Fanon Aesthetic (Red Hair x Black & White Shirt)

I believe this combo was the fandom consensus for years while his only canon appearance was from the greyscale manga. This is the only one on this list that doesn't appear in any canon or canon-adjacent material, yet it's the only colour scheme I actually associate with him. Love it, absolutely iconic, there's a reason why it's stuck around so long. 10/10

(Image found here by Chibionpu on DeviantArt!!)

#2 - Anime Aesthetic (Brown Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

I've seen some people say his hair is green here, but there's another appearance that looks much more obviously green to me, so I'm counting it as brown. I like this aesthetic a lot! It's less distinctive than the red hair x b&w shirt, but the colour palette works well and I like the way this particular shade of brown complements the amber hue of his goggles. 9/10

#3 - Trading Card Aesthetic (Green Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

This one comes from the trading cards, and I think the green hair looks surprisingly good! I respect the creativity and I think this is the most visually interesting look on the list. Where it loses marks for me is in the overall lack of consistency; the bright green hair, orange goggles and red shirt just don't mix particularly well. However I'm very fond of forest green and I'm always a little weak for artificial hair colours in general. Very swag. 7/10

#4 - Coloured Manga Aesthetic (Black Hair x Black & Red Shirt)

This is from the unofficial coloured manga. Honestly I think it's the most coherent aesthetic of them all (the black boots + black hair + black stripes) and I much prefer the bold red to the dusky hue of the anime & trading card shirts. I just find it a little underwhelming on the whole. It's a safe option lacking any real personality or flair. 5/10

#5 - DS Game Aesthetic (Blue Hair x Blue & White Shirt)

This is from the Successor to L DS game. It gets points for uniqueness, but that’s really all this look has going for it. It's incredibly difficult to go wrong with blue, but they somehow managed to pick what I would subjectively call the only two bad shades of it in existence. He looks like a young man cosplaying a middle-aged mad scientist. 2/10

#6 - Anime Guidebook Aesthetic (Brown Hair x No Goggles)

Who the fuck is that. -1000/10

[chriskotiesen]

How do you think of your wonderful beasts?

Usually I start with really vague ideas for shapes or colour schemes and just make the creatures up as I go along. Most of the time I'm aiming to make something that has personality but isn't too easy to compare to any existing animal. If it's too boring then I'll weird it up a bit by rearranging parts or throwing on extra shapes. If it's too abstract then I'll swap in some more realistic animal features.

I saved some in-progress pics of yesterday's creature to step through the process:

I started by giving myself the very open-ended task of drawing a creature with a mouth in an unusual place. When sketching digitally I often like to forgo lineart and just play with blocks of colour.

Why is it crescent shaped? Why is it orange? I dunno. But I think that I can turn this into a body with the mouth at the centre of the mass. There are certainly weirder and more interesting places to put a mouth then in the belly, but I don't really know how this sketch is going to go from here. Maybe I'll put more mouths on the feet or something. Finding out is part of the fun.

Let's start simple. I figure that it should have arms to pick up food, as well as eyes and a nose to clearly define a 'head' somewhere away from the mouth. Okay now it looks like a creature, but not one that I particularly like. Also there's nothing between the nose and the mouth so it looks less like it has a mouth in its stomach and more like it just has a really big, weirdly-shaped head. I can fix that if I move the arms above the mouth. And I'll give it a tail and another bend in the torso to balance it out and make it less front-heavy.

Now we're getting somewhere. I'm starting to like this for reasons entirely unrelated to the mouth, so I'll just remove it completely. It's getting in the way of the rest of the anatomy. There's no client or art director dictating what I need to make here. The initial premise is just a jumping-off point and I can ditch it entirely if the design works better without it. I like this bug-eyed, cobra-hooded aardvark-centaur-dragon-thing. That seems like enough of a creature without throwing on extra features.

I try to keep my palette organized and only add more colours when they feel necessary. The countershading here helps to define the creature's shape a bit better and break up all of that orange, as well as just making it a little more realistic. I made the tail bigger just because I like what that does for the 2d composition of the picture.

Cleaning up the shadows also helps to make the volume read a bit better. The stripes help too, but I mostly added them to break up the orange some more and make the creature more interesting. I also started laying in some blobs of colour for a background. Now that all of the basics are in place it's just a matter of adjusting colours and polishing out details until I'm either happy with it or just sick of looking at it!

Done!

[raayllum]

So I always thought it was Interesting that we had this shield in Rex Igneous' hoard in 4x08, because we just don't have that many dragon designs and this one is quite different from the others we've seen before, even after S7. But I've been thinking about the First Elves and the Archdragons and their possible pre and post-Cosmic Order dynamics, and that made something ping here.

First weird thing: eight point star-shape behind the dragon, some of which may or may not also be horns (but are likely iconography rather than physical biology).

We see eight point stars throughout Star iconography in the series, although not as often as the 4-point star. Just having any dragon, let alone an unrecognized one, on a star shape is already notable enough on its own, in some ways, but there's more.

Weird second thing: the front scales on the dragon's brow is very similar shape wise to the First Elves' crown we see the Cosmic Council wear.

You even have the larger, more pointed diamond set over the small one. Third weird thing: the curved horns of the shield dragon on either side of the diamond pattern resemble the more complicated but similar crown that Aaravos wears, both in-show canon and throughout the posters (when he was younger and presumably creating and/or learning from the cube).

We can see that the dragon and shield go together as well, since the tips of the shield are matching to the dragons' horns. The colour scheme is reminiscent of Katolis and Sunfire red-and-gold, though I'd wager it's more likely elvish than human for a plethora of reasons. The fact that dragons' largest brow scale looks elevated in the shield art, looking almost like a gemstone, does not help matters in terms of clarity, even if it makes it even more fun to theorize on.

If I put my full tinfoil hat on, I'd say shield dragon is 1) Aaravos in dragon form (and the shield is human made), or 2) an even older ancient archdragon who heavily inspired / had an authoritative position within the First Elves and creation of the Cosmic Council.