#the cosmic rape

[infinitaregna]

Thrift store finds...

[crimeronan]

ultimately i think that if you are trying to glean information about a person's real life personality or priorities or morals based on their taste in fiction then.... you are wasting your energy. like i don't even mean this in a shipping discourse kind of way, i'm also talking about like. those posts like "you like enemies to lovers because you want someone to see you at your worst and still love you" and "you like girl-next-door romance because you crave being known and loved by someone who's seen every part of you" or "you like BDSM porn because you want someone else to take control of your life."

these posts are frequently made in jest but. they drive me insane. i am aware this is a no fun allowed kind of take and i am Not trying to ruin anyone's fun, i just..... good God. can we stop applying pop psychology and freudian analysis and other such bullshit to our reading habits. please. please god. please.....

and on the other hand. if there are people already poised to take this in bad faith..... yes, of Course i'm the type of person to make this post, since i write largely horror-rape-torture-murder bullshit. and i actually would Love for people to assume i'm dangerous due to the horror-rape-torture-murder bullshit, since in actuality i am trapped in the body of a fat physically disabled soccer mom, and it sounds nice to be scary.

but like. being completely, totally, 100% sincere here. like i am not being a bitch, i am trying to impart genuine advice. IF you're spending a lot of time stressing out about what fiction does or doesn't say about you, your peers, your family, or (maybe especially) the people you dislike....

....your energy is being sucked into a black hole. Find Another Thing To Stress Over. Thank You

[sforzesco]

WHAT DOOM FOR YOU?

back again with my Please Read The Thebaid Agenda! I adapted the ending of Book VII into a comic because oh boy. thoughts thoughts thoughts.

There is a horror in having yourself altered to such a degree where you are unrecognizable in your own self, to know that it is happening, to know that you should be dead and yet you are not. You have already seen the moment of your death!!!! (Stat. Theb. 3.537 – 47) There's a horror in knowing, and in it being treated as an act of love when it's really more like a violation. Amphiaraus is spared Creon's decree, but by falling into the underworld, it makes things worse on a cosmic scale.

Statius' Thebaid Book VII, trans. Jane Wilson Joyce

Statius and Virgil: The Thebaid and the Reinterpretation of the Aeneid, Randall T. Ganiban

Statius' Thebaid and the Poetics of Civil War, Charles McNelis

The Perils of Prophecy: Statius' Amphiaraus and His Literary Antecedents, E. Fantham

society6 | ko-fi | twitter (pillowfort, cohost) | deviantart

[digenerate-trash]

GN Ivory Wraith | GN PC

It started a couple of months ago. You kept getting up and being led to the edge of the forest. Always before you made it too deep though you managed to shake off whatever was calling you in. It's been getting harder though. And tonight you're particularly tired...

You don't even notice you've gotten up till you're standing on a trail leading into the woods. Bare feet softly pad against the dirt and rocks as you make your way in a trance toward the lake. Everything in the woods is eerily quiet. It's just the wind. And the soft constant sound of the lake in the distance.

You're more conscious part of your mind is panicking. Scratching at the back of your head like a viscous animal. Trying to get you to wake up. Snap out of it. But the haze that surrounds the rest of you can't register it. It's like hearing screaming from down the street.

When you get to the lakeside you shiver when you wade into the water but it doesn't stop your steady pace. Soon you swim down into the ruins. The ever-present allure makes it easy to overcome any fear you might of had.

When you finally break the suffice of the water again you panting. The shock of the cold air has woken you up a bit more and you glance around the ancient temple. Dragging your body up out of the water to rest on the shore for a moment. You're starting to come back down to earth and it's causing you to panic.

Your hand slips on the smooth tiles smearing dirt and mud across your already-soaked clothes. You pull yourself up from the ground carefully cradling your hurt arm.

It's too dark to see really. There's just a soft light coming in from the water but that's about it. Your haze is almost completely gone as you rest against the wall and think about how you're supposed to get out of here.

Then you're suddenly surrounded by something warm. Like a blanket covering you you still shiver as you feel soft delicate hands trace up your stomach to your chest

Your heart practically stops as the movement keeps going like it's trying to soothe you but when you move to look at the thing that's holding you so gently you meet with something terrifying. Its face is a twisted maw of sharp teeth and wide black eyes gaze at you. Stands of silvery hair cover the more gnarled bits of its face and body naked as it is. You can see a writhing mass of fumbling ever moving limbs and tentacles attached to uts torso and a necklace that hangs around its collarbones dangling down to its pale chest, Ancient looking. The metal and string are tarnished and old. Bits of bone and jewels hang off the mangled jewelry. You're tempted...oh so tempted to take it

But when you reach out for it your eyes wide the thing grabs your arm with multiple limbs and screeches loudly. The old temple seems to shake with the noise as it wrestles you down to the ground easily. The thing is drooling over you the many limbs keeping you pinned easily. Its black eyes meet yours and there's nothing behind them...

It isn't long before it tears your clothes off sharp claws dragging against your skin ripping and tearing into every part of you until you're completely bare. All of its limbs work together to pull your legs up and pin them to your chest so hard it's difficult to breathe. Multiple tentacles slide over your hole as you squirm and try to choke out cries for help but nothing seems to stop the thing as it presses one of the larger tentacles into you ruthlessly.

Your body tenses up but the creature shutters above you. It must have been so long...

You shake off the thought trying to keep control. This thing doesn't deserve sympathy for raping you. You try and fight it off as best you can as you're fucked against the temple floor your body hurts as it continues to stuff as much of its slimy tentacle into your body

Its gaping sharp toothed mouth drools all over you as it continues to stuff you full. Tongue sliding between is teeth as it continues to hold you. Other tentacles pick up and start to fondle and grope your body coating you in slime.

It's comfortable...warm... you should just give in

You shake off that thought and try to focus again. How do you get this thing off of you?!

You start to feel a bulge at the end of the tentacle and it presses against you. Your body is on fire as you try and resist it.

Why are you resisting..?

You relax and It's not long before the bulge forces its way into you. You can feel it settling into your guts. Your body is tense when the tentacle bulges again. Dropping another slimy egg into your body. They're heavy. The thing over top of you seems so satisfied with your cooperation...

They deserve to be satisfied.

When it pulls out you've lost track of how many heavy eggs you've taken in. Your body is slick and warm still your stomach bulging out a bit.

The creature on top of you keeps licking at your delicate flesh tasting your skin and letting its hands play in the slime that coats your body.

When you finally wake up again you're surprised to find yourself still in the temple. Your stomach hurts so much as you try and leave.

But before you can You can feel someone tugging on you a bit.

Stay

And you do. The figure steps in front of you and smiles. A beautiful ghost... so pretty and soft looking. The only thing you seem to notice about it is the necklace that hangs off of them. It reaches out and places a warm hand on your stomach, the feeling sends shivers up your spine as you relax into its touch.

And you stay

[therainscene]

Crazy together: Byler, Cthulhu, and cosmic horror

Cthulhu is a queer horror film from 2007 that I've always been fond of. I rewatched it recently and was struck by some of its similarities to Stranger Things: small town vibes, conformity themes, cosmic horror as queer allegory, a gay protagonist with a childhood best friend slash love interest named Mike...

The film has an ambiguously villainous ending for its main character, Russ Marsh, and it's an ending that suits this story pretty well, imo -- so given how much it reminds me of Will's story, I thought it would be interesting to compare the two.

[Content warning for rape and (bloody) attempted suicide, both depicted in the movie and mentioned below the cut.]

👆 [That's the entire movie available for free on YouTube, courtesy of its director. You don't need to watch it to understand this analysis tho. Spoilers ahead.]

Cthulhu is a (very) loose adaptation of The Shadow over Innsmouth, a cosmic horror story about an outsider who arrives in a small fishing town and unearths a cult that interbreeds with immortal sea-dwelling monsters. He ends up making the horrifying discovery that he's descended from the cult's founder and thus doomed to turn into a monster himself.

The film uses this premise to talk about queerness: As an openly gay man, Russ has always been an outsider and was never going to participate in his hometown's, uh, traditions. Unfortunately, his father is the cult's leader and his sister is infertile -- Russ must participate.

[Yes, that's Cara Buono. If you enjoyed her portrayal of Karen as a loving but deeply conformist family member who does a better job of supporting the status quo than supporting her loved one, but just wished her character was more one-dimensional -- then this is the movie for you!]

Russ doesn't actually know much about the cult at the start of the film -- he fled to the city in his teens and dismisses his father's proselytizing as "Joseph Smith frontier horseshit" -- so it isn't until he returns for his mother's funeral that he begins to unravel the truth.

It's a good metaphor for how it feels to look back on a bigoted or abusive upbringing and realize: wow, that was a lot more fucked up than I thought it was.

As you might expect from cosmic horror though, this isn't a healing or empowering process for Russ.

Rather, he just keeps running into brutal reminders of how powerless he is in the face of the town's overwhelming, ingrained homophobia: at one point he's raped to satisfy his father's need for an heir; at another he's falsely jailed for the rape and murder of a boy he was trying to rescue from the cult.

It's similar to the torture Will endures in S1 and S2: he's kidnapped and symbolically raped, reflecting Troy's coded "killed by some other queer" comment, then bullied for having the audacity to survive it. He even stands up to a literal eldritch monstrosity and is rewarded for his bravery with yet more loss of autonomy.

You might be wondering if these stories even count as cosmic horror. Cthulhu only ever vaguely hints at the existence of, well, Cthulhu, and Stranger Things (which deliberately tweaks its genre every season) reveals that the Mind Flayer was basically just some guy all along.

But I think it's a bit of a misconception that cosmic horror is about star-sized masses of eyeballs and tentacles that drive you insane with their inhuman incomprehensibility.

Really, cosmic horror is about powerlessness, inevitability, and comprehending all too well. To know that horrors exist beyond the everyday facade of human existence -- whether they take the form of unknowable monstrosities from the void or of violent bigotry in an otherwise pleasant town -- is to know that your existence is nothing more than a delicate soap bubble floating in a vast, uncaring universe made exclusively of sharp edges. Even if you return to the everyday world, you can never return to blissful ignorance.

And that’s what drives you insane.

Will has something of a knowledge motif following him around: He's a wizard named Will the Wise. He illuminates. He has True Sight. He's a super-spy. He's part of the hive mind. He was studied in the lab. He was violated at school and in a library. His neck prickles when Vecna is close. He knows what Vecna is thinking.

It's too much cursed knowledge for one little boy to bear.

But he doesn't have to bear it alone.

Will is lucky to have a bunch of loving friends and family, and their support does a lot to help him cope... but even his fiercest supporters, Joyce and Jonathan, tend to be absent for long swathes of time. There's only one character who can be consistently found by Will's side through the majority of every season, and that's the boy who promised to go crazy with him.

[Strictly speaking Mike wasn't by his side in S1... but he fought hard to bring him home the whole time they were apart. Tomayto tomahto.]

Russ has a Mike too. (Literally -- his name is Michael Shields lol.) His childhood best friend reconnects with him soon after he arrives back in town and pretty much immediately becomes his sole trusted confidant as Russ falls down the cultist rabbit hole.

A quick aside -- Russ's past with Mike is a glimpse into a possible future for Byler.

Russ and Will have both been saved by their Mikes from giving in to the despair of being treated so brutally by their towns: Russ's Mike caught him mid-suicide attempt when they were teenagers--

--and Will's Mike, of course, helped rescue him from the Upside Down and sat patiently with him the whole time he was possessed.

Unfortunately, both Mikes are also conformists who are unwilling to leave the safety of comphet. Russ ran away to a more liberal environment where he could exist in peace, but Mike stayed behind and married a woman. This could easily end up being Byler's fate too.

So while Russ and Will might be alive thanks to their Mikes, they now have to live the rest of their lives without the love of the boy who gave them the drive to face it in the first place.

And it isn't as though the boy doesn't want to love him back.

The jury is officially still out on Byler, but Russ's backstory is very much not about a sad gay boy having to get over his sad gay crush on his straight best friend -- it's about a pair of would-be lovers getting torn apart by a town that refuses to let them be themselves.

I want to emphasize that both of these pairings consist of a visibly gay guy and a straight-passing guy.

In both stories it's typically the visibly queer one who actually interacts with the horrors, while the straight-passing one tends to observe from a position of relative safety, either escaping before anything too nasty happens to him, or more often, simply learning about the horrors second-hand from the visible one.

(There's one key exception at the end of Cthulhu -- but we'll come back to that.)

This is such an important dynamic that it's even unsubtly foreshadowed in Byler's first scene together:

This informs the way the characters support each other. We've already seen the obvious the safe one acts as a mental tether for the endangered one so he doesn't go insane with despair dynamic, but there's a reversal too: the authentic one inspires the conformist to join him in what was never really insanity so much as a different way of looking at the world.

Russ doesn't have any designs on seducing Mike -- much like Will, all he expects is some support from his best friend -- but his dogged questioning of the town's status quo still leads directly to Mike breaking out of comphet and admitting to what he's always really wanted:

[Learn from your elders, Byers: this is the proper way to respond when your love interest says that home just isn't the same without you.]

But Cthulhu's protagonists are confident adults who know how to quickly resolve their romantic tension. Byler are frightened kids in a five-act coming-of-age story -- their version is a little messier.

Mike has always been inspired by Will, right from the very first episode -- he decided to risk looking for him in the woods because he figured that's what his brave and kind friend Will would do.

The first two seasons thus show us Byler's dynamic at its best: an endless feedback loop of Will's strength and insight inspires Mike and Mike's devotion supports Will. (Very cleric and paladin of them.) But they're still children at this point, and don't really notice the blossoming queerness in their relationship yet.

S3 adds puberty to the mix and oh boy do they notice the queerness now. Too scary no thank you cancel unsubscribe uninstall. Will's bravery falters. Mike devotes himself to the grim duty of having a girlfriend. The loop breaks under the pressure.

They fight about it in the same location that introduced us to their dynamic and call each other out on failing to hold up their respective ends of the bargain:

"Why aren't you there for me anymore?"

"Why are you refusing to face reality all of a sudden?"

Note that Will's knowledge motif makes a return here -- just before the fight, he dresses up in his Will the Wise costume in an effort to inspire Mike again. But the tone of the scene is silly and cringey -- as correct as Will is to point out that they don't need to abandon their childhood dynamic just because they're growing up, pretending that it isn't going to mature as they age is, um. Unsustainable.

Deep down, Will knows that he'll eventually have to address the terrifying truth that keeps tapping insistently at the back of his neck.

By S4, Mike is starting to come around -- he's still deep in comphet, but he at least recognizes that it's making him unhappy, so he reaches out to Will the Wise for advice. Unfortunately, Will learned the wrong lesson in S3, and all the advice he offers is designed to push Mike back into the arms of comphet.

By the end of the season, Will has even orchestrated a grand heterosexual love confession in the foolish hope that sacrificing his heart on the altar of heteronormativity might finally make the horrors go away. (How's that working out for you, Byers?)

And so we've arrived at that ambiguously villainous ending.

By the climax of Cthulhu, Russ has uncovered the awful truth: his mother was murdered by his father to lure him home, extract offspring from him, and trigger the apocalypse. It's already begun; there's no stopping it. Shambling horrors -- his ancestors -- emerge from the rising sea. Russ is expected to become the immortal leader of this sunken new world.

He and Mike make plans to flee town together, but Russ runs into his father. He's brought to the shore to admire his kingdom before being handed a weapon and commanded to make sacrifice to Cthulhu:

Russ glances between Mike and his father, assessing his options. Soon even the cities will be consumed; he can't Smalltown Boy his way out of this again.

He raises his weapon--

--cut to black, roll credits.

All too often, queer villainy is shown from a straight perspective, presenting queerness as inherently threatening. This is the type of villainy embodied by Vecna: he's a vengeful and predatory outcast who forces his version of reality on others (especially children) and refuses to compromise his dangerous nature.

Cthulhu shows us queer villainy from a queer perspective. Russ, like Will, is harmless: he's kind, has no interest in vengeance, and just wants to live his life in peace. What drives him to villainy is the temptation to throw queerness under the bus in the twisted belief that appeasing the majority is the key to escaping homophobia.

Of course, there is no escape. Sacrificing the man who trusted him to guide him gently into the reality of queerness just means he's succumbed to the madness and become a homophobe himself.

S4 concludes with Will in a similar position to Russ: teetering on the precipice of madness as he helplessly watches the world fall apart at the hands of the villain who would stop at nothing to force him to join his cause.

But where their situations differ is in what cause that villain represents.

Russ's antagonist is a straight homophobe, representing societal homophobia -- far too powerful a force for one man and his lover to have any hope of defeating. But Will's antagonist is that offensively queer-coded-for-straights villain, representing internalized homophobia -- all along, the prickling at the back of Will's neck has been his own instincts warning him of what happens when you allow bigots and abusers to have a say in how you define yourself.

True love can certainly defeat that.

Unlike Russ, Will hasn't reached the end of his story yet--

--and unlike his older namesake, Mike isn't kneeling on the sacrificial altar, but standing by the side of the boy he promised to go crazy with, ready to face the horrors of Hawkins -- together.

[@bylerween2023 day 4 🐙]

[dragonsaffron]

The Great God Pan is the saddest book I’ve read in ages

Nobody else I know has read this book so I’m going to have to throw it out onto the internet and hope somebody pays attention because I just got done reading it and I have SO MANY FEELINGS.

Helen Vaughan dies at twenty-three years old. She is twenty-three years old when a group of men break into her home and force her to kill herself. I think that simple fact of how old she is when all this is going down is what gets me more than anything else.

I’ve read that it’s apparently implied that the reason why all those people killed themselves after talking to her is some kind of grotesque sexual assault, but the book is so vague that I can’t really say that for certain? The implication I get, from the details at the end about her walk with Rachel, from all of the paintings made by that one guy, is just that... she wanted to talk? She wanted real connection, but it failed every single time because the human mind was not meant to be able to comprehend her world.

It’s not like she asked for any of it. Mary was the ultimate victim, Dr. Raymond basically owned her and I think we can say with a degree of certainty that she was in no state to consent to giving birth to Helen. And then when we see Dr. Raymond’s perspective on the whole thing, he hated her! He hated her and threw her away at the first opportunity!

Also I have to say: Helen is. Very transgender. Everyone wants her, everyone mentions how beautiful she is, but everybody HATES her. She’s described as “handsome” at least once, though I’m not sure how the gendering of that word works out in the historical context. Oh, and when she dies her body first turns male, and then into a giant penis monster! I don’t quite know whether that implies a degree of gender-fluidity, or that her “true form” is male and she made herself a woman on purpose, but something not-cis is happening here.

And then she kills herself. At twenty-three years old. Twenty-three years old. Fuck, for all we know Clarke or Villiers just murdered her, we never get a description of what happened.

I can’t help but hold in my head the image of a woman who never belonged to our world. A girl who tried to get other people to understand her reality, who tried to forge even a single human connection, first with the people of her village, then in the warrens of Whitechapel, then in Buenos Aires, then amongst the parties of the rich, and was met with death and madness at every turn. There’s a line near the end which implies that she wasn’t even dying, really, just going off to live with her father. Almost like she was giving up. Tired of trying to find her way in a world that just didn’t mesh with her.

She never stood a chance, really.

[colbertmmunist]

i finally moved away from my abusive mother only to end up blowing all my savings trying to have a life with a man who would end up raping and emotionally abusing me. am i just destined to be someone’s punching bag my whole life?? what the fuck did i do in my past life to deserve this??????

[discountdyke]

finished mouthwashing yesterday and overall its a neat little game and i think it handled the story well but i cant help being irritated at it. its yet another horror story about the rape of a woman who does not get to tell her story directly. in a cast of 5 characters there is only one woman, who is portrayed mostly as crying, helpless, and useless for the majority of the game. we see her story through the eyes of the men who wronged her, which seems kind of cool except its actually extremely boring.

i dont care that men feel bad after raping women, or that they might be afraid of the potential consequences. my biggest beef is that i'm honestly supposed to believe that a woman having her rapists baby is enough proof to get a rapist punished. like how far in the future is this? is this a future where rapists actually go to jail? or where they go to jail longer than 6 months or so? a future where the consequences of being a rapist are actually bad enough to kill yourself and everyone around you?

and really, in horror, the consequences of raping a woman are really experiences with the supernatural, which are spooky and thematic but like.........not revolutionary? i find it irritating as well that curly faces the brunt of the punishment for jimmy's actions. like i understand the idea of "the buddy that covers it up is just as bad!" but he didn't get 'just as bad' punishment, he got it worse. which inevitably plays into ppl thinking that curly is somehow an innocent victim in this situation because he was "trying to do the right thing"

and finally, jimmy never does take responsibility. he never looks anya in the eyes and says "what i did was horrible and wrong and i will never ever hurt someone like that ever again." he never even says "uhhhh sorry about what happened. between us." i think we're meant to see jimmy's suicide as the cowards way out but narratively, why are you saying "take responsibility" over and over again and following it up with that? would someone really be wrong to read this as him taking that responsibility? that killing himself is as much justice as a genuine apology and a slap on the wrist?

why, in the end, is jimmy's responsibility to curly instead of anya? is it because men see other men as their equals and worthy of apology? or is it because he should have trusted that curly would have his back? why the fuck is this the way a story about raping a woman and that woman's subsequent pregnancy is being told? why is curly the one repeatedly violated with pills being shoved down his throat? why is anya a prop instead of a character? when will women get to tell their own stories? when will horror stop mythologizing rape and sexual violence?

[curvascirea]

Just found out that Karazor from Stuttgart is under trial for r*pe

If there is any cosmic justice 3 points are ours

[mai-komagata]

re: sexy stabbings

im writing this very long meta on how galadriel x sauron and silvergifting dynamics help an audience recognize different forms of seduction in a relatable way (including queer forms of seduction, which audiences are normally blind to), and how recognizing these ships isn't about "crack shipping" but about the text using the language of sexuality/eroticism/seduction to convey concepts that would otherwise be vague and not-understandable like temptation to a metal object or wounds that cannot heal or possession by an alien being as well as concept of "men in a fantasy/magical/superhero setting are not just power levels" -- ie. the strongest man should always win. Galadriel is *integral* to this because most characters in tolkien are male and audiences are pre-disposed to ignoring emotional dynamics in men other than anger and violence -- the contrast with a female romance lets an audience be like "these people, adar, galadriel, celebrimbor are more alike than distinct". (wow maybe i don't need to write it, anymore!). But since that is taking me very long to write and i keep running into queer-erasure every day i'll just say this: the reason we don't see Sauron torture Galadriel in the same way she tortures Celebrimbor is not because his relationship with them is cosmically different (obviously its different bc they are different people). Galadriel is not more "pure" or "loved" than Celebrimbor. Neither is blameless (i.e. both were ambitious) and neither is deserving of torture (nobody deserves that, even Sauron). It's because there is different symbolism to the way they are being hurt. Arrows being used as martyrdom is a millennia old way of showing homosexuality. Stabbing is metaphorical of penetration. He intended to kill both of them for denying them the Nine. Because Sauron is bad at impulse control, he takes and believes he is wiser than he is. If he wants something he will take it and then regret that he broke his favorite thing. (note he doesn't regret killing other people he doesn't twistedly love, like mirdania, or the orcs).

Galadriel had Nenya (i.e. Celebrimbor's magic, untouched by sauron) and Elrond was able to save her (love and light win the day). Celebrimbor died as symbolic for what happened to Eregion (he was alone and eregion fell).

This doesn't mean BOTH scenes aren't meant to be erotic. The stabbing is hot and the caressing of the arrows are hot. But they are hot in a BDSM/noncon way. "Do you understand what it's like to be tortured by a god?" sorta way.

Pragmatically, though, the reason we don't see more graphic galadriel is because it would make audiences uncomfortable. You can be way more graphic with gay shit and people won't be squicked than if you are graphic with m/f abuse. As i said, a good 50-70% of the audience won't even NOTICE the gay shit and think its just standard fantasy violence. The closer you make it to outright rape, the less compelling it is, because Sauron needs to both be APPEALING and EVIL in order to understand why people are drawn to the rings of power and why it is essential to oppose it.

[disclaimer: this is not anti galadriel x sauron, it is just in favor of seeing the ship in a dark way as part of the larger narrative. When I talk about shipping them in a dark way i don't mean simply its my kink, i mean this is a dark seduction story at heart. The actors are very hot, their acting is very sexy, but the function in the larger story is to display the different ways sauron tempts and corrupts people, including galadriel, celebrimbor, adar, and how sauron himself was corrupted by melkor].

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

why are you crying about blood and cheese if every targaryen deserves to die according to you? own your words lmaooo

I’m assuming you’re on my ass due to this post

And you seemingly missed my inclusion of “Daemons descendants”. Note how I said due to Daemons actions and Rhaenyra’s inaction, everything bad that happened to house Targaryen after they ‘won’, is cosmic karma for putting a hit on a baby (Maelor) and sending two murdering rapist to threaten a baby girl with rape if her mother didn’t choose which of her sons she should watch die.

Plus, aren’t you on the side of people who say the targtowers aren’t real Targaryen? Because *checks notes* they are half andal??? So in that line of thought, I’m actually not a hypocrite for wishing death on house Targaryen because they aren’t Targaryen. At least according to team black anyways.

My hatred for house Targaryen is of the line of Rhaenyra and Daemon. As team black said, they won with their son sitting on the throne, but also all the suffering the people of Westeros went through can be traced back to their second son Viserys. With his son Aegon the unworthy single-handedly plunging Westeros into civil war SEVEN times. By giving blackfye to Daemon Waters, he most blatantly, told the nobility of Westeros that he favored his bastard over his true born son. Echoing his grandmother Rhaenyra in more ways than one lol.

How many people died due to Rhaenyra grandson legitimizing all his bastards on his deathbed? How many people died due to Aerys Targaryen’s fondness for wildfyre? How many people died because Rhaegar was so enamored with the idea of a prophecy, going so far as to steal and rape a 15 year old? Notice how in the subsequent years after the dance of dragons, there were only two monarchs that were ‘good’. Viserys II and Daeron II. Others were either lunatics that would’ve been better off smothered in the cradle due to how many deaths they caused, or lackluster kings who’s poor management of their offsprings caused the realm to bleed; Aegon the Unlikely with his lack of spine when it comes to putting his foot down in regards to his children spurning their betrothed causing the Baratheons to rise up in rebellion when Duncan the Small decided to think with his dick than do his duties to the realm (sounds familiar doesn’t it? Rhaenyra’s tendencies to flaunt her disregard of her duties truly is inherited by her decedents!), and Jaehaerys II choosing to believe a woodwitch Jenny bought to court and forcibly making his children marry when both of them hated or at least strongly disliked each other.

These Targaryens didn’t come from Alicent’s line. They came from Rhaenyras. Which is why I said the downfall of house Targaryen in the current ASOIAF timeline is cosmic karma for the depravity of Rhaenyra and Daemon. I can only hope Winds of Winter would further explore Jon leaning into his Stark heritage and completely disregarding his Targ heritage, and that if Aegon Targaryen is real, he’d connect with his Martell family more so than his targ one.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello, I have been reading the books that follow after Interview with the Vampire, and I wanted to ask and comment on the character of Lestat. Although I like the character, but It seems to me that he is a very Mary Sue character, that causes me conflict, that personally I would like the TV series to modify that aspect of him.

Do you think changes will be made regarding how powerful and perfect he is, without taking away his power but at the same time without becoming a Mary Sue type character?

... Mary Sue?

This... Mary Sue????

I'm sorry nonny, but... let's.. recap.

Lestat calls his own accomplishment of killing the wolves a "cosmic error" in the books, he should not have managed that. He did though, and that is what wakes Magnus' interest in him.

He is raped into darkness because of the wolves and his looks. Immediately abandoned after. Yes he got powerful blood, but other vampires (including Armand for example) get that, too.

He has to discover everything by himself, fight off satanic cults and Armand who tries to force-feed on him and then tries to track down the one source he heard of who can give him reason, only to find that source and realize... there is no reason. The source, Marius, sends him away again, after he managed to wake Akasha by sheer luck.

He tries to live a mortal life with Louis and Claudia, which ends with them trying to kill him and almost succeeding. He goes after them to try to save them because he knows Armand and is afraid for them and gets locked in a dungeon and then gets used for the farce of a trial, half mad and starved. Armand throws him off a tower, breaking every bone, and making him literally crawl back to NOLA.

He lives alone, scarred, lives off of rats and other smaller things for decades. Armand tells him Louis is dead, btw, then later, when Lestat has gone to earth comes by to whine about Louis.

And that is only what is in "The Vampire Lestat", in the broadest way.

Lestat has anger and severe abandonment issues, because he was abused severely as a child. He was beaten, locked up, starved, dragged back when he tried to run away. His mother ignored him in favor of her books, which makes his relationship to her and books rather difficult. He wasn't taught to read and write, only learned so later.

He has a temper, and bursts into inappropriate laughter at times. His guilt eats him up from the inside, but he suppresses it most of the time. He is prone to depression, and tries to kill himself, and when that fails, takes to wandering alone for years at a time.

His various "power ups" leave him with body dysmorphia at times, because he hates what they do to him.

He still has PTSD from the rape into darkness in the last fucking book.

If you want to call that Mary Sue I guess I cannot stop you.

I definitely wouldn't call him that.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Innata Malevolentia - Part One

Summary: there is something unsettling about Ettore that she can't quite put her finger on, and perhaps something deeper and more sinister about her check-ups with Dibs | Word Count: 3.2k ~ | warnings below the cut!

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

warnings: mentions of past non-con crimes (but vague), masturbation (f), intimate examinations, Ettore being creepy

Why do they put windows in here?

That's the constant thought that rattles around her brain, demanding an answer, but unable to find one.

She stands, by herself, arms crossed and neck craned to look up at the skylight. A box of light and cosmic colour, carved into the pitch black darkness, bathing her face in a cool, extraterrestrial glow.

It doesn't feel warm, like the sun would.

In fact it's freezing, like being dunked under a cold shower. Like that feeling when you're just about to fall from an extreme height, but your feet stay planted, arms stretched out for balance, but your weight wants to pull you down without the real force to do it.

Heart going fast, breath burning in your lungs and blood pumping around your body at such speed, it makes you feel weightless.

That's how looking at the stars and the endless abyss of the universe makes her feel.

Uneasy.

Getting closer but also further away at the same time.

If she looks at it too long she feels a bit sick, like the loops on a rollercoaster, her stomach feeling airborne for a moment.

The air conditioning nips at her arms, every little hair standing right on end. They don't even have the decency in this hellish place to pretend it's a warm, safe place to be.

How safe is she, surrounded by the most dangerous criminals, all free to roam the ship at their leisure?

Criminals including her.

There are a few people she knows she should be afraid of, and a few who are largely harmless until pushed that little bit too far, but they all have their tells.

Only Dibs has access to their records.

Only she knows what they've all done to deserve being here.

That smug-faced, cocky witch, knows everything, and says nothing about it, but carries herself as if she is any better herself. Her chin tilted up, putting on her professional facade that everyone seems to have seen through already.

The look, as if she was judging them.

But she was sick of being judged. Many had already judged her before, and doomed her to a lifetime of imprisonment because of it.

They're all monsters here.

Convicted to die on this ship, years away from Earth, from all she knows.

Not like it assisted her in any way, being on Earth. Her life had been riddled with constant failures at different points in her life, some her fault, some not.

But that's life, she muses constantly, to try and apply some reason to her existence.

Here, there's a level of freedom. No chains or bars on her cells at least. No guards to shout in her face or threaten with batons.

And yet, that feeling of being confined to a room is eclipsed by the feeling of being confined by nothingness.

She often wondered, what were her family doing right now? The little family she had left.

What was anyone back on Earth doing right now?

Had much changed?

She knew she only thought of these things because of how uneventful the ship always was. A routine set in stone, like commandments.

Wake up. Eat. Exercise. Eat. Whatever duty they were assigned. Eat. Shower. Sleep.

A monotonous, tiresome regime.

Designed to make life here as dull and boring as possible.

She's not stupid. She knows some of the crimes worthy of a death sentence.

Murder. Rape. In some cases, fraud. Which, in the same breath, seemed so tame, it could hardly be compared.

But she guessed most of them were here for murder.

It was too dangerous to think they were here for anything else. She didn't want the idea anywhere near her.

People like Monte, Tchemy, Mink. She could see those kind of people just snapping. Doing something they would later regret for the rest of their lives, and are currently paying the punishment for.

Boyse, Dibs and Nansen seemed different.

If they did murder, it would have been planned in a moment of madness.

But these were all just guesses.

One she couldn't guess for the life of her, was him.

Ettore.

An all-round weird guy. There was no other word she could think of to describe him.

Perhaps, unsettling?

In such small proximity, she sees him mostly everyday. And everytime she does, a chill prickles at her skin as she feels his eyes on her.. When she dares to look back at him, to see if he will look away, embarrassed at being caught, the pit in her stomach gets heavier when she sees he doesn't.

His blue eyes unapologetically stuck on hers, before wanding in a waving pattern all over her body, pausing at the places she might expect a man to.

His gaze would linger, but he never would.

He was like a whisper. Gone before you could even hear him approach.

In a way, that's what scared her the most. That she might be walking anywhere, in the supposed 'safety' of the artificial day or the darkness of the evening, and he might be following.

Silently.

And watching alongside it.

For what? She wasn't sure.

Was he trying to map out her movements, trying to find a set routine in her everyday life? To find ways of getting her alone to do god knows what?

Based on what she assumed about him, she made sure she was never truly by herself. Never vulnerable.

He looked like the kind to prey on vulnerability.

And therefore, women.

As he perceived them weaker, smaller, less able than him.

Not able to fight him off. Even if they tried.

Out of all the women, Mink was the easiest to talk to. To cling to.

She wasn’t even really sure how they filled their time. For what could they even talk about? Nobody wanted to talk about their crimes, or their life back on Earth. A life where everything seemed easier. Where one day they’d be told that today was their last day, and justice would be coming for them the next.

Death seemed a mercy compared to this.

Mid-spoonful of an undoubtedly terrible meal in the mess hall, Mink winces, one hand at her lower stomach.

“Period?” she asks.

Mink scoffs, shoving whatever beige looking meaty substance into her mouth, trying to act as if the pain didn’t bother her. But she just shakes her head, “I wish. Dibs’ latest checkup wasn’t the nicest”

Everything seemed to circle back to that old hag, who had shouldered control over the ship like some kind of cosmic dictator after the official captain, Chandra, died. Though she is no better than any of them, she certainly pretends to be, assuming herself to be the next kind of authority, when really, if everyone was smart enough to band together, each of them could easily do away with her.

But she was the only doctor.

And that was precious.

But why Dibs feels the need to inspect each of the women so intimately, on such a regular basis, makes a chill rattle through her body. The idea that Dibs has some kind of idea, some agenda, but isn’t telling them, is as terrifying as the endless darkness to some degree.

“What did she want this time?” she asks, pushing the inedible sludge around her plate. Though hungry, she feels little desire to actually eat anything.

Mink shrugs, “The usual I suspect. Just ‘checking on our normal bodily functions’” she replies as if quoting from the woman herself, scoffing like she doesn’t believe a word of that nonsense.

“I think she’s doing something fucking weird to us” Mink muses.

Curiosity nips at her ears as she raises her head to her fellow inmate, “Like what?”

Mink scans her periphery, checking if any of the other inmates are listening, too preoccupied with their own meals to care.

“I felt her put something inside me”

A chill settles at the back of her neck, where all her baby hairs stand on end.

Mink continues, “Boyse got a good look at what was going on. Says she thinks Dibs is trying to get us pregnant, for her psycho experiments”

Her eyes scan the table, as if trying to find answers where there are none, “She can’t do that, surely-”

“Oh yeah and who’s gonna stick up for us?” Mink interrupts, her face flat, expression cold. What she says is so unapologetically laced with the truth, but does little to take the prodding sting of panic from her.

“The people on Earth?” Mink scoffs, shoving yet another mouthful of food past her lips, “we are literally the worst of the worst. We waived the right to defense a long time ago”

Again. It’s true.

But it still does nothing to quell her nerves.

“All we have is ourselves” she adds, “and sometimes I don’t know if we can even trust that”

Having had enough, Mink leaves, carrying her tray back.

A kind of aching dread settles in the back of her mind.

For what reason would Dibs want any of them to get pregnant?

This was no place for a child, and certainly not equipped to deal with childbirth. And on top of that, who the fuck does Dibs think she is?

If she’s trying to get the women pregnant, surely, she must be getting the sperm from somewhere.

Monte was very vocal and proud of the fact he would never even touch another woman. For some inexplicable reason.

Maybe Dibs was forcing the men to do it. As she was the women and the examinations.

When her eyes scan the room, she sees him in her periphery first, his eyes like when you shine a torch in the darkness and see those two blinking amber orbs, staring right back at you. Unmoving. Like they are watching you in still and silence, as you are doing the same to them.

Even though she looks away as soon as they lock eyes, taken completely off guard that he had been staring in her direction to begin with, she still feels the way her skin prickles, feeling as if lots of gentle needles are prodding at the surface of her flesh, but not pressing hard enough to puncture.

It is like trying to hide, knowing there is nowhere to hide. Like wanting to disappear, in a place where there is only this harsh, blue light.

As she stares at her plate, the handle of her fork slovenly sliding into the beige mush, making her want to gag, she still feels it. The intensity of his gaze.

Nothing about it is warm.

He doesn’t even break as he spoons more food into his mouth, as if on auto-pilot, and completely infatuated. Like when you watch a movie and feel like you can’t blink, otherwise you’ll miss something.

It’s as if darkness seeps out of him, like a disease or a virus, flooding every inch of clear air he invades, swallowing the oxygen in the room. She often wonders about him, curiously.

How such a person, a mere man, can have that kind of effect.

Her watch beeps. Dibs wants her again.

But at least it's an excuse to leave.

And yet, she feels the intensity of his stare burning the back of her head as she does.

"Deep breath for me"

As if taking a deep breath will take away the sting of shoving that metal speculum inside her, lube or not.

She winces slightly at the discomfort, her hands forming fists where they're laying on her stomach. Staring up at the ceiling, she tries to loosen the muscles that are so tense and tight, she imagines it's not doing her any favours.

"Oh stop. It isn't that bad" Dibs says. She talks to her as if she's speaking to a child, presenting with a scraped knee, complaining that they're afraid the leg might fall off.

It only makes her want to punch her square in the face.

"What's the point of this again?" She asks, annoyance colouring her tone.

Dibs sighs, clamping the instrument open inside her, stretching her in a new place that feels like a dull ache.

"I am checking your reproductive health"

She could almost laugh at the vague response.

"So what? We can be your guinea pigs for your fertility experiments?" She adds, scoffing as she feels a swab poke at her cervix.

Dibs doesn't even have the decency to really deny it.

"I am devoted to reproduction" she explains, "the human body is an extraordinary thing. It can withstand an incredible amount of stress"

Ah, so that's why.

She wants to see if a baby can survive in these conditions.

She can't help but think that's just a bit sick.

"You are scum. All of you. This may give you some purpose in life, if you let it"

She laughs through her nose at that.

"And what does that make you?" She says, "playing god with dangerous criminals, being no better yourself"

"I did not say I was better" Dibs argues, still between her legs, with a light illuminating her work.

"And yet you feel like it's completely justified to try and get us pregnant against our will" she replies, shaking her head slightly, "you're no better than us. You're worse"

"Keep saying it and it does not change anything" Dibs sits up, reaching over to grab a clear tub. She doesn't see exactly what it is, but has an idea when she feels another instrument at her most intimate areas, pushing something inside.

Mink wasn't lying.

She was trying to artificially inseminate them. With the other prisoner's sperm.

It almost made her gag a little.

"You are a fine specimen" Dibs says, pulling the instruments she'd used out to sterilise later, "there is no reason why you cannot become pregnant in my view"

She can't help but laugh, "my body obeys me. Won't happen"

But Dibs just laughs back.

"We will see about that" she muses, "get dressed"

There's only one saving grace from being here. Away from him.

The Box.

As terrible as it sounded, it was her haven in this horrendous place.

Nobody was more shocked when Dibs announced it.

"You are not permitted to fraternise with the other prisoners. You may use the on-site masturbatory aid, The Box, should you feel the desire"

It seemed a strange thing to her, to include such a thing on a ship. For people who barely deserved to live, they deserved to at least have the privacy to get themselves off?

It was very weird.

But she didn't complain. Beats touching yourself in a cell you share with two other people.

She was only grateful she didn't have the bunk bed.

The Box could generally have a few people waiting to use it. And whenever she saw a queue for it, she grimaced and turned away, like she never intended to use it in the first place.

She knew other people had their way in it, but for some reason seeing them lined up outside waiting to have a fiddle, made her recoil back into herself.

It was almost sad that people had to wait for the supposed enjoyable experience. And having to watch them wait their turn.

Tonight though, she simply entered The Box as Boyse came out, not sparing a glance at each other when they crossed.

Not because they didn't get on. But because it offered some sense of privacy, to not acknowledge what they were here for.

Without embarrassment.

Everyone had urges after all.

It had been so long since she'd been with anyone. A long time before they even left Earth, as they certainly didn't let them fraternise with anyone within their earthly prison. Male or female alike.

At the beginning, it took her a while to get into the groove of using the Box. But now it had become second nature.

Once the door was shut, she did her business, bringing herself to peak on her fingers. Not being able to find it within herself to use the phallus on the table. It was just too weird.

Luckily for her, time passed slowly at least when she pleasured herself. Pressing her lips together to prevent any sounds from coming out. Apart from the whiny, hurried breaths that spilled from her with her orgasm, rolling in waves numbly through her limbs.

Feeling her heartbeat through her bud and a pulsing in her blood, she pulls her sweatpants back over her hips, sighing and smoothing her hair down. Pressing the button to exit, there's a lull in her horrendous situation. A brief, fleeting moment where it's just her, her feet shuffling in front of one another, her body heavy with pleasure, but light at the same time.

That is until the creaking of metal, of footsteps making their way down the ladder, bounces off the walls.

The hallway suddenly seems so much narrower, darker, with his presence.

She doesn't quite realise when he's sat down or stood far away, but now, almost right before her, she's struck by his sheer size. How tall and broad he seems in comparison. It sends a nervous chill over her bare arms, the skin beneath the short sleeves rippling up with goosebumps.

She swallows as they briefly make eye contact.

In the time she's known of him, he emotes very little. But here, seeing the faint flush on her face from the efforts of her time in the Box, one side of his lips curl up almost unnoticeably. His arms swing barely as he walks past her, his arm brushing against her shoulder, like he intended to do it.

Just the faintest touch, seems to give him something.

But it only makes her feel ill.

She dare not imagine what he could be thinking. Plotting.

She hears him murmur something deeply, a breathy laugh accompanying it.

Pivoting on her foot, her eyes find him down the hallway, where she just was, at the entrance to the Box.

"What?"

Half in, half out, his face turns over his shoulder, a faint smirk on his features as he steps backwards into the chamber.

With his messy blonde hair, once overgrown and cut himself, striking blue eyes, he would be attractive. If she didn't know him.

"Fucking cocktease" he muses, "playing hard to get, are we?"

The blood that rushed to her face before, suddenly drains.

His voice is like the purr of a cat. Calculated. A whisper, but not at the same time.

It frightens her. In a way only a man can frighten a woman with his words.

She's about to open her mouth to retort when he says.

"It's alright, I like a little struggle"

When he disappears behind the door, her blood has a chill to it.

She thinks of returning to her cell. Thinks about the fact that, since Boyse lashed out on Dibs and tried to conjure up a makeshift douche one evening, the women had been reduced to being tied down by their wrists as they slept.

The men don't.

She knows sleep won't come to her that night.

That she'll be sat awake, her wrists tied at her sides, hoping and praying that Ettore isn't fucked up enough to pay her a visit in this vulnerable state.

Perhaps, by staying awake, he won't.

She watches the doorway, hearing the faint click of skin walking on the linoleum floor in slow, careful movements. Her heart goes fast, blood pumped with pure adrenaline.

She sees his form, lit by blue, lithe, broad and littered with wiry muscle. His eyes, glimmering at her, seeing she's awake. His lips as they quirk up at the sides, like he's amused by what he sees.

Even as he carries on, walking out of view, she knows…

…that it's only a matter of time, until he has the courage to not just watch her.

And that here, she cannot escape him.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301  | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires  | @risefallrise  | @theoneeyedprince  | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya  | @urmomsgirlfriend1  | @valeskafics  | @watercolorskyy

Ettore Taglist: @bellaisasleep | @iamavailablesstuff | @the-common-cowgirl  | @theroyaldixon | @ultraintrovertedgryffindor

[chaifootsteps]

Please don’t remind me of the red string of fate…Viv you said “I wish I could ask people why they call my awesome queer writing fanficy” I’m telling you. It’s this ‘soulmates’ cliche. It’s full of painful cliches that stereotype gay men as weak and helpless, wrapping back to being homophobia again. As a woman how is she some authority how to write gay men anyway?

I don’t really buy that Viv hates anime because her romance writing is inspired quite heavily by the “BL” genre of anime. Or maybe she grew up on fanfic and doesn’t realise how much of it relies on BL anime tropes. But not the tame stuff. The heavy stuff that really calls the authors understanding of consent into question. One belief in toxic BL/Yaoi is that “R*pe is impossible if it’s your soulmate and you were written in the stars”

That’s probably how Vivzie justifies all this. “Yeah Blitzø was forced into it but does that even matter if their souls and sexualities were perfectly compatible cosmically aligned?” Shes so caught up in the stolitz fanart and ao3 fics, that she doesn’t realise this is one step away from saying the victim asked for it.

As someone who also grew up on a heavy diet of the BL genre and will defend it as its own distinct flavor of the bodice ripping genre, agreed completely. Rape in BL/yaoi is treated as a minor inconvenience at worst, and that's (arguably) fine when it's Tall Seme and his neighbor/classmate/underling at work/indentured sexual servant who cries a lot and whose butt is self-lubricating, but it doesn't work if you're trying to tell a very serious story about the importance of consent and healthy communication.

Most people who lived through that era realize this. Even the BL genre itself knew this. But Viv doesn't.

[eldritch-spouse]

Let me start this off by saying PINNIE, YOU ARE SUCH AN AMAZING WRITER, AND I LOVE HOW WELL WRITTEN YOUR CHARACTERS ARE!

The way you write villains is so compelling because, while they are evil, they are multifaceted, three-dimensional beings. They are monsters who have families and friends, hobbies, likes and dislikes, cute quirks, soft and tender moments, and some even have tragic backstories that caused them to be the way they are. But at their core, they are evil.

First off saiders. If were real, I would HATE their entire race and truly only wish the worst for them. They copulated with humans, and when those humans bore their children, they were disgusted. Instead of, just designing the human body to not be able to get impregnated by saiders—like a breeder with a human—no matter how hard they try, it'll never happen. They decide to hunt down the offspring and then pack up and leave, letting humanity expire but not before they killed Krulu’s creations, then tossed him into the null, forgetting about him and permanently damaging his form, and giving him an everlasting hatred for humanity for something THAT WASN'T EVEN OUR FAULT. But Krulu can't fight with the other saiders, so, of course, he'll take it out on beings astronomical weaker than him.

The most insurmountable case of villains getting everything they want with no consequences in this series has been Krulu and by extension his lackeys. For presumably years, he and took the lives of countless people, but he got to find love with two lessers, had two children, and supremely rules over perdition and heaven through them.

Maria, as devious and suspicious as she is, hates people who perform abortions, and I assume by extension, people who get them. But she finds it acceptable and fully permits Krulu to grab random humans—innocent or not—and let them be raped, killed, tortured, and maimed within the clergy. Humans who could be someone's mom, dad, sister, brother, CHILD! She claims to care about children so much, but I assume after they stop being small, helpless and cute she couldn't care less. I mean why should she care? She already has her charm and numerous kids with them.

She would probably watch humanity go extinct at Krulu’s hands if he did it in the most entertaining way possible.

And the worst part about it is that they both will never be punished for their actions.

The other saiders are never coming back; they thought we were all dead anyway. That one extra saider you said might come probably will take part in the torture, rape, and genocide of the human race.

Humans could NEVER fight back. The possibility of killing a saider is simply non-existent and even their WEAKER IN COMPARISON kids cannot be touched

Dorem sure as hell isn't going to do it despite the fact he CAN. He'll just groan that he has over a billion souls to deal with, and since no new humans will probably be born, souls will be eaten by the millions or reincarnated into monsters, demons, and possibly angels.

The supreme beings who are above it all—above the saiders and possibly every cosmic force���would not intervene in the name of complete cosmic neutrality.

Even if other monsters, demons, the clergymen, Adrul, Adelo, and even Miara's kids take human spouses their kids will not be human. I wanna say after 4 generations it'll mark the permanent end of the human race but even then not really.

What happened to breeders I assume will be what happens to humanity a very small group taken to an extremely remote area where they're experimented on, forced copulation, treated like a human zoo, and sold to the highest bidder who'd like to get their hands on the last rare piece of the once honored human race.

UGHHHH, I KNOW IT WAS A LOT. I LOVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL MIND! 💕💕

Well, I should clarify that this isn't really a happy universe or a very "black and white" one. All the characters in my blog, save for very few, are morally evil. In a bit of a bleak turn of events, even gods are great evil-doers here.

The siadar are a failing society of incredibly powerful entities, and as their sims, we all suffer because of that. They may have faded into obscurity under the much more hopeful fabrications that replaced them, but some never forget, such as the celestials- Who are "doomed" to forever revere the ones who left them to die.

Krulu is, to most, blatantly evil. And even if he ends up calming down in the future, he will never truly heal. The chance to heal was stolen from him, his state of mind is always reflected in how he executes things, how he governs the space he claimed as his own. He wants to be feared, he sees most humans and monsters not as actual people worth a shred of his time, but as reminders of what his worthless kin did- The flawed, grotesque things they preferred over his own immaculate brilliance, his care. And so, even if no one is there to see it, to be offended, he hopelessly tortures them.

Miara is not good. She doesn't claim to be. She doesn't care to prove herself to anyone. Miara has come to enjoy time on Earth after having thought hard about the state of her existence. She wants the surface to herself, if Krulu's plan comes to fruition, having no desire to intrude on his way of life beyond that. What he does is hardly her concern, she wants her own slice of peace, and that's that.

Dorem is a bum in a complete rut who just can't be bothered to do anything to help himself and sees no way to go back to his earlier life. The souls in this planet have become too chaotic, and he hates it all, he hates everything he just wants it to fucking stop- But it won't. It never will. This is his life. His eternity. And he rots away, eating the souls that bother him, hoping the two gods on Earth stay relatively placid.

And the Betrayer. Well. Certainly won't be better. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thenk you for your thoughts though! I'm happy you like stuff here. :7

[wolftheawoo]

Chapter III - Let's play a game.

NSFW FANFIC - DDDNE

Reverse Fall(s) - Twisted Realities

Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Ford Gleeful | Reverse Ford Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher & Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher, Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines & Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines, Dipper Gleeful/Ford Gleeful, Mabel Gleeful/Ford Gleeful, Bud Pines/Gideon Pines, Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines/Pacifica Southeast | Reverse Pacifica Northwest Tags: DDDNE, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Kissing, Anal Sex, Anal Gaping, Piss, Vomiting, Object Insertion, Gore, Visceral, Violence, Reverse Falls, Alternate Universe - Reverse Portal (Gravity Falls), Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls | Reverse Pines (Gravity Falls), Reverse Pines Family (Gravity Falls), Ford is sadic as fuck here, Dipper and Mabel are very very bad, there will be blood, Bill is a spectator and voyeur, Voyeurism, Mabel suck his grunkle to get what she wants, Incest, Sibling Incest, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Uncle/Niece Incest, Stancest, pinecest, Spanking, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Oral Sex

Summary:

Bill Cipher, the most chaotic triangular demon in the universe, is about to discover that not all cosmic power is hole-proof. Stumbling into a dimensional rift, he plummets straight into the universe of Reverse Falls, where everything is twisted, sinister, and a little more broken than he remembered. Instead of looking for a way back, Bill decides to do what he does best: turn this chaos into his personal playground. With constant misfortune and characters darker than ever, he plunges headlong into a universe where nothing makes sense, but everything is potential for fun. For Bill Cipher, the more wrong the situation, the better. And in the end, he may even discover that the chaos of Reverse Falls is where he really belongs.

Chaos, acid humor and a lot of misfortune guaranteed. After all, for Bill, hell is an amusement park.

-------------------------------------

(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

The moment Ford's fingers trailed down Will's back, the boy could feel a shiver run through him, causing him to sigh low and heavy. The gasp that came from his lips was visible, and, swallowing his saliva, he held back.

“What are you?” The voice that cut through the air - firm, decisive and yet soft enough to make the mono eye tremble with anxiety - reached his ears like whispered music.

“I'm yours,” he uttered, trying frustratingly to keep the saliva inside his mouth. He couldn't hold it in any longer; he was about to explode.

A loud groan left him when Ford pressed the sole of his shoe against Will's erection, crushing it under his foot, making the red of the sole of his social shoe wet with the clear liquid that oozed out of the other man's phallus. “What are you?” he asked again, this time through gritted teeth. He was growing impatient, and Will knew it. His hands were tied behind his back, preventing him from touching himself, just as the blindfold prevented him from seeing Ford. He could only hear him. He could only feel him. When he spoke, the demon could feel his hot breath on his cheek; he could smell the bourbon Ford liked to drink, and he could feel how warm the inside of his mouth was. He would give anything to be inside that mouth.

“I am… your slave,” he swallowed with difficulty. It was coming from the recesses of his oral cavity, and he still hadn’t gotten used to it. Having a mouth, a nose and ears was strange. He used to only have one eye, and it was through it that he did everything he needed. With this body, however… he had a place to put his master’s cock.

“Good... very good.” And as much as he had said what he wanted to hear, the shoe was pressed down even harder, crushing his small penis against his testicles, making the pain spread. He felt it in his stomach, so strong it was; and he couldn't scream. He held his voice in his throat, tears wetting the fabric of the blindfold. Ford had already said that if he was scandalous, he would knock his teeth out. As tempting as the idea was, he didn't like the pain. He was afraid of it. “And who do you obey, Will?”

Ford's touch on the boy's face was all he wanted. When he held his chin, he felt compelled to get closer to him. He rubbed his cheeks against the palm of another's hand and practically begged for more. Affection, he wanted Ford's affection. He wanted his touch. He wanted his caress. He needed it, and Ford knew it. The Gleeful caressed him with his fingerprints, sliding his thumb along his jaw before finally pushing his cheek away. Will grunted like an ownerless puppy as his face turned cold without the warmth coming from his lover's phalanges.

“You!” he moaned, desperate for more. That was enough for Ford to hit him, bringing his hand down hard enough to turn Will's face, who felt his cheek burn immediately. His whole body shook violently as his master put the weight of his body against his intimacy, and when he felt something break inside him, he screamed.

“You?” the voice was filled with disgust “You?!” anger, he was angry! “How dare you?” the sentence was practically spat out.

No, no, no. That's not what he wanted. He'd done it again, He'd done it again! He'd made a mistake. It had made him angry. He was, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst husband Ford could have chosen from the many dimensions that existed! Unable to contain himself, he cried like a child. His testicles ached, his arms were numb and his hands tingled. His face was burning, and his cheek hurt from having accidentally bitten it when he was caught. Trembling all over, he pathetically tried to crawl closer to Ford, begging, pleading for his forgiveness. He was the worst, the worst husband of all. He was horrible, terrible. How could he? How could he have disrespected him like that?! Calling him you! How could he?

“M-master, forgive me, forgive me, master, I beg you... this won't happen again, I beg you” He crawled on the floor like a worm. His tears and saliva littered the wooden floor, and the closer he tried to get, the further away he felt. Before he could continue, he felt him stoop down beside his body, grabbing his face to lift her up.

“Will... you hurt me every time you do that. You know, don't you?” the young man agreed, nodding his head. His heart was breaking knowing that he had made his beloved sad. He could feel it! His voice was low, so, so low. So frustrated, so sad! “Of all people, I, who do everything for you. Who gave you this body?”

“The master,” he whispered.

“Who made a contract with you and made you like this, palpable?” As he asked, he slid the tips of his six fingers across the boy's smooth, bare chest.

“The Master,” he shivered once again.

“Who accepted you even if you were defective like this?”

“The Master”

“Who loved you even if you were damaged like this?”

“The Master”

“Who touched that despicable body of yours and gave you pleasures you had never dreamed of having?”

“The Master…”

“And this is how you repay your master?”

“F-forgive me… I beg you, master…”

“Oh, Will… of course I forgive you, my love.” And when he finally thought he was going to kiss him… when he felt him getting closer, holding his chin and bringing his face closer and closer… when he could already feel his breath, when he could feel the Ford’s lips brushing against his, almost touching his own… he pushed his face away. “But don’t make that mistake again, or I’ll rip out your remaining eye.”

The frustration that filled his chest made his beating heart ache. It was true: Ford had made a contract with him. When he arrived in that world, confused and lost, he welcomed him. The portal that Ford and Fiddle had opened had been his gateway to that wonderful world, and so that he could stay, his beloved had kindly offered him the chance to make a contract. He didn't accept at first, it was true... but as time went by, he fell more and more in love with the man. At first, he called him “Muse”. Will's eyes lit up every time this happened. “My Muse” were his favorite words. It was what he loved most to hear coming out of Ford's mouth. Of course, when he proposed to him, he had never been happier. He had already provided a body for him to inhabit; an empty shell that he could enter without having to ask permission. In this body, they made love for the first time and it was magical. It wasn't difficult to receive a “Yes”. “Yes, I want to marry you, Stanford”.

The ceremony was beautiful. Fiddleford was the officiant, and Ford's vows had been so... romantic and beautiful that, without realizing it, he had signed the marriage contract without even reading it. So it was at that moment that they signed a contract. If before the wedding and the contract his beloved Ford had been like this, so romantic and devoted... after they had been bound to each other by something much bigger and more powerful than just rings, he had become like this, a little... different.

Wil had taught him magic. He had taught him all the wonders of a thousand worlds. He had taught Ford everything he could ever want to know. It was obvious that he would become a very powerful wizard, and now that he had Will literally and figuratively trapped by a magical contract, he was almost invincible.

The only thing that made Will a little sad was the distance. They hadn't made love - real love, not what Ford called love - for a long, long time. On their wedding night, Gleeful let McGucket have fun with his new toy. After they performed the surgery that removed the eye from Will's 3D, human body, forcing him to wear an eye patch, he also became Stanley's toy, who used him whenever he was “too full”, and Mabel was too busy, according to himself. Stanford liked to watch. No matter how much Will screamed, struggled and cried, he just stood there, watching. He didn't masturbate, he didn't tell them what to do and he didn't move. He just watched. When Fiddle, or Stan, or whoever was using the body of the triangle demon finished... Ford would just get up and walk out, leaving his little “Blue Bird” - as he had affectionately nicknamed him - there, dirty and exhausted. It was obvious that Will felt exposed, to say the least. He didn't understand, and it hurt not to. It was humiliating, degrading and shameful. When he felt pleasure or moaned, it was even worse. It made his stomach churn, and when he threw up the first time and was forced by Stan to eat the mess he had made, he felt like the worst piece of garbage in the world. He wasn't supposed to like it. Why, why did he just stare? Why was he smiling? When, in the end, he understood that this was “love”, everything became easier. Humans, he realized, loved in a strange way.

“Gunkle Ford?!” Mabel's voice drew him out of himself. He heard the door being opened and remained motionless, silent. The twins didn't like it when he spoke. He'd learned that the hard way, and was still a little afraid whenever he saw the girl with scissors in her hands. “Oh... busy?”

“No. Not at all. Will, clothes.” He wanted to moan with the relief of having his arms free, but he didn't. He knew Ford wasn't even bothering to untie him when he just felt the magical aura around him, releasing him from his bonds, taking off his blindfold. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mabel approach Ford on tiptoe, wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. Although he was terrified of both her and Dipper, deep down he thought she was a real bitch. She didn't even disguise the hard-on she had for Stanford, and it was evident in the way she clung to him, keeping her arms around his shoulders, looking at him with lust that overflowed. For a few seconds, he stared at her. When she noticed, she looked at him, and Will immediately lowered his face. Mabel, Dipper, Ford and Stan all hated being stared at. Will had to keep his face down at all times, staring at the ground if he didn't want to get hot water in the face, or kicks in the stomach, or anything else that might cross the Gleeful's perverse minds. And they had very, very bad ideas. A lot of them. A lot. As ordered, Cipher began to put on his own clothes until he looked presentable and, when Ford sat down in his armchair, tapping his lap with his right hand, he approached him and knelt down beside him, laying his head on his Master's legs as a pet would.

“Dipper said you wanted to talk to us,” and stretched her arms back, puffing out her breasts, swaying her body like a pick-me.

“Yes, I did. You may not have noticed, but Will certainly did”. As he had done something good, he received a gentle caress on his blue hair. He almost purred! “Yesterday, during your presentation, something... someone tried to approach the tent. It was powerful. Will said he felt a big shake in the protective barrier we have around the tent, wasn't that right, darling?”

Darling. Darling. The word echoed in his ears, and he wanted to cry. But Mabel rolled her eyes and realized that perhaps that was just to arouse the girl's jealousy, which was no greater than her lust. Cipher still remembered how she had cursed Pacifica for being close to Gideon, Mabel's secret obsession. Anyway, he nodded in agreement, still silent.

“And what exactly are we supposed to do with this information?” asked the girl, clearly annoyed. Dipper caught her eye, pinching her discreetly.

“And you want us to investigate, Uncle Ford?”

“Exactly that, my dear Dipper. And I think we could perhaps play a little game, what do you think?” The smile he sketched... Will knew that devious smile. “The one who brings me something interesting first wins a wish. Anything. No matter what it is.”

At that moment, both twins eyes lit up. A wish from the most important and powerful scientist and magician in the universe. What could be better than that? “Done,” Dipper said. “You're going to eat dust!” Mabel retorted, and left, running to her own room while Dipper went to the laboratory. Will, on the other hand, heeded his lover's words. The one who brings something useful. He hadn't specified who. Was it on purpose? The one. The one. It could be anyone. One of the twins, or even... even... himself. His heart beat like a drum in his chest, but he kept quiet. His head, on the other hand, buzzed with thoughts and ideas. What if? he asked himself. What if it was the person who took what Ford wanted? Could he then have whatever he wanted?

He snapped out of his thoughts when Ford slid his index finger across the scar on his back. From time to time he did this, stroking the burn scar he had. Ford had made it himself. “Stanford”, was written on the scar. It, like the removal of his eye, had been done with the help of magic so that it would never heal. His eye, a knick-knack that Ford displayed in a little bottle of formaldehyde, was his assurance that Will would never break the contract. Magic was sometimes strange, and he didn't fully understand it even if he knew how to manipulate it.

“Ford? Tonight's show's at 8 p.m.,” sounded Stan's gruff voice, as he opened the door and stuck his head in to speak. “Shall I pick the kids up from school today?”

“They're at home.”

“Did something happen? Anything I should know about?”

“No, Stan... nothing important has happened.”

“Right. Of course. I'm going to... check on Mabel.”

Ah, Stan. You're not fooling anyone. Everyone in the house knew that Mabel and You had something more than a relationship between a grand uncle and a grand niece. Just as everyone knew that, from time to time, she sucked off Dipper. Just as everyone knew that she loved to touch herself while thinking about Ford. Just as everyone knew that Dipper was no saint and that his cold manner was just a cheap imitation of Ford. Will was tired of counting how many times the boy had asked him for help with his teenage erections, and he was tired of counting how many times he had tried to act like Stanford did. It was pathetic. Still, Will found himself dreaming. If he could find that thing, that person who had so deliberately shattered his magic... would he finally be able to be alone with his beloved? Closing his eye, he brought his hand up to his own face and stroked his own tanned skin, pretending that the touch belonged to his husband. Awake, he dreamed of shrinking Ford and placing him inside a snow globe where he could always have him with, in his hands. He would look adorable, tiny, helpless, and trapped. The perfect husband, forever.