#the cult of chiffon

[lutzhuelle]

'LE GOUT DU LUTZ' Marianne Hublet in WEEKEND LE VIF Printemps Ete 2002

[cosmicgendershifter]

More Completed Gentlebeard Fanfic I Recommend

This continues from my previous fic rec post, but since it was getting super long, I am starting a new one, haha. 🌈🏴‍☠️

Without 🔞 Content

"I'm Used to Death" (T, ~119,400 words) by @dimplyowl (same writer as "The Curse of Blackbeard's Sword" and "Invisible String") and @thatmothra (same writer as "Salt, Sweet") is a beautiful and heartwrenching Hunger Games AU that does a more brilliant job at combining that dystopian novel with OFMD than I had thought possible! There's some notable Mary/Evelyn too as a bonus. Don't forget the sequel, too: "But Not Your Death" (T, ~108,700 words).

"#OldManCrush" by @petrichorca and @veeagainsttheday (T, ~13,000 words) is a short but vibrant modern AU full of delicious mutual pining where Stede writes an op-ed about his later-in-life crush that goes viral and sends his best friend Ed, the co-owner at their new shared newspaper, into a spiral.

"there's always an escape" (T, ~4,400 words) by @ghostalservice (the same writer as "mighty real" and more) and @mahnaah is a delightfully silly modern AU meet-cute where Stede solves a hidden bonus puzzle in the pirate-themed escape room that Ed created.

"blue canary in the outlet" by @ladohstry (T, ~3,400 words) is a very soft, sweet modern AU oneshot where Ed and Stede share a bed--and then a first kiss--after a night on the club with their friends.

With 🔞 Content

"My Soul Remains With You" by @bonnetpetit (same writer as "Fox Fires", E, ~130,400 words) is a gorgeous, smutty modern fantasy AU with big season two vibes, in which Ed is the lonely cursed forest creature haunting Bonnet Industries' latest development project, and Stede decides to leave his old life to stay with him.

"Rinse and Repeat" by @theyellowestmustard (same writer as "Swedish Cult Bullshit" and "Magpie", E, ~106,300 words) is a lovely, sensual modern AU in which touch-starved Ed seeks out Stede the hairdresser to do a fancy funeral braid for him and then gets a little bit addicted. "Somnophobia (and Other Eleven-Letter Words" is another great one by this writer (E, ~10,500 words), a heartfelt season two missing scenes fic featuring Ed not wanting to risk falling asleep, Stede comforting him, and hand-holding during sex. 💜

"The Broken Lines" by @clairegregoryau (cowriter of "'Til We See the Sunlight," M, 82,200 words) is a poignant, fantastical WWI AU where comm officer Stede struggles to regain his memories and find his lost love after the trauma of the war, even as he communicates across time with canon Ed.

"But the Dream is Strong" by @babykittenteach (E, ~31,400 words) is a fascinating omegaverse AU, with big genderqueer and kink energy, where Ed realizes he wants Stede to ~ravish~ him so Ed can turn from an alpha to an omega.

"soft like silk chiffon" by @impossiblebird (same writer as "Andante, Andante, E, ~12,400 words) is a post-canon fic that thoughtfully explores Ed's enjoyment of being submissive to Stede's soft domming, with some lovely bondage and lingerie included.

"Men on Fire" by @petrichorca and @mahnaah again (M, ~9,900 words) is a fun and sweet short modern AU where Ed is a pornstar whom Stede interviews for his video series about the queer community, with instant chemistry happening between the two of them.

"twenty years and twelve hours" (same writer as "blue like cut sapphires" and more, E, ~9,500 words) is a delightful modern AU in which Ed and Stede are each other's very awkward (but still good) first time at college, and then they get to reconnect twenty years later! Another throwback fave from this writer is "Unparalleled" (E, ~20,300 words), a post-season one reunion fic full of intense emotion and sexy angst, with the soft dom Stede/sub Ed intimate dynamic that I love most for them.

[capricorn-season]

Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

[kermit-kim]

Onna, Syrup & Cult Party

This cute girl with a large topknot in her hair is Aibon, a 24-year-old bartender. Her romantic outfit includes a variety of handmade items. Her cotton top from Onna is worn with a collar made from patchwork pieces known as yoyos. Her gauzy chiffon skirt is from Syrup...

Read more on Tokyofashion.com

[lullabysbride]

Hello mind if I ask you a question? What got you into shipping Redpastry? Just a little curious (・・ ) ?

There's something so intriguing about the only other person whose able to truly understand you, is your exact opposite. Someone who you'd think would not have a single thing in common, someone who you think is the enemy.. is actually the exact same as you.

~

Hi hi!! I'd love to answer, but be warned this is gonna be a deep dive! Explanation under the cut 🤍

I actually fell in love with Pastry first then I went through TOSC story and was like "whose this red guy?" I must analysis! ... And I never came back out of the hole...

I've absolutely adored opposites attract since I was little and it is no different here, dark x light, good x evil, all that good stuff. And RedPastry fit that well, but with.. a bit more complexity and nuance.  Also religious themes make me go crazy I love that like nicotine, I'm down atrocious. 

On the surface they seem completely incompatible, but if you look under the surface, you can see that they're both flawed beings who are heavily influenced by their surroundings ( The Order and COD ) and are far more similar to each other's then first conceived.. Both are incredibly loyal to their own causes because they feel obligation towards it for their respective authority figures "saved" them and effectively molded them into who they are. They were both made to be weapons of war who follow the orders of the aboves - just for the opposite factions. They both believe they're doing the right thing.. 

The symbolism is so important to. Fork and Knife

.. Always Paired Together... Eat that up..

I've never been about Oh the other just saves one. No. They save EACH OTHER, MUTUALLY. They can find solace in each other when they have nothing else -- for outside of their professions, who really are they? They are so much more than what they have been coaxed to believe and I think they would discover that together, to make an identity that all for themselves, for one another... No one else has gone through what they've been through, so who better to emphasize and gain understanding with then the person who already knows the feeling.. it's the realization that they not so different after all.

Ik people are like "But she shot him!!! And his dogs!!" Do people not understand cult manipulation and brainwashing? She was brought up to believe that cakes were foul creatures - monsters. While Velvet of course sees them as intelligent beings with emotions.. - without the effects of the Order I don't believe Pastry would've hurt them... and Velvet wasn't exactly initially hostile towards Pastry, even asking her to come and join him before yk they fought. And at the end Pastry doubts herself and what she's done, she sees a glimpse of the other side, the compassion from Velvet with Chiffon, the cracks in the tale of the Order that she was so deeply devoted to. Red Velvets cracks in his devotion are far less noticable because he hasn't yet picked out on the toxicity of his situation yet, he knows if he stays, he gets to stay with his family, but they're both in less than ideal circumstances... It's not so black and white as some make it out to be.. it's more.. Crimson and Ivory. 😏 Iykyk (Forgive me don't hate me pls)

Not as pure as White and Red.. Both Tainted. Both Stained yet Beautiful in their own rights and mesh so well together. 

No one else is exactly like them and that's what draws me to them. The story can go so many ways and I wish devsis would expand upon it but they haven't so I gotta do it myself 😔. 

[tmwcs]

 ₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ Ɇł₲Ⱨ₮ : PLAYMATE

Series: The Otherside

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideations, kidnapping, hostage, mentions of cannibalism, yandere theme, toxic love, abuse of authority in a relationship, hints of non-con sexual acts, threats, mentions of murder, corruption, I think that’s it. This series is one of gore and terrible acts so read at your own will. Despite what you’ve read so far, the story is going to get better. Not proofread, sorry. Trying to get this story finished so I can get to work on all the asks/requests in my inbox ❤️

Note: This is all in the POV of Sunghoons y/n. Jake’s y/n is labeled as ‘h/n’ (her name). As explained before at the start of the series, the story features three different y/n’s. In certain POV’s of a y/n, the other two y/n’s will be labeled as h/n. I hope this is not confusing anyone lol.

“You two play nicely.”

Jake presents softly and in a laconic sense as he sits across from Sunghoon, both enjoying the view of you and the lonesome girl across.

It had been months since you found yourself isolated by the deranged man, the one who calls you his ‘darling’ and dressed you in pastel lace and chiffon. Despite knowing his monstrous tendencies of eating human flesh, he never carried out the act of consuming his meals in front of you. At least you could be thankful for that. The thought still terrifies you and since he had kept you imprisoned in the luxury and comfort of his hollow home, you’ve been nothing but disgusted and terrified. Ever since your entrapment you experienced the worst nightmares and never could rekindle the feeling of uninterrupted sleep. It was bad enough that you had trouble doing it, but once you finally drifted off through your hourly sobs, you’d find yourself waking only after one hour of rest. It was, next to everything that happened that night with the cult and your capture, the worst feeling possible. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you’ve prayed that you would fall asleep and never wake back up. This was all complete torture. You’ve tried to escape countless times but it was impossible to do without knowing the code to operate the elevator.

You wondered how your family was dealing with all of this. Since he sealed your knowledge of the world behind these windows, all by eradicating any source that dispelled information such as the news, social media, and even disposing of your phone, you would have no way of knowing the ongoing police search conducted in your name. It would break your heart even more so had you find out that they called off the search after the third month since your disappearance, and no longer actively searched for (Y/n L/n).

You can’t count how many times you’ve cried and felt despair, to the point where you thought of just ending it all. But he made sure that everything possible that would motivate or trigger you to act out on a moment of courage, was all locked away. Not that it would matter, the man kept you under his eye like a hawk, and the only moment of privacy you had was in the shared bedroom when he would tuck you in, and twist the key that secured the lock of the ankle bracelet attached to the bedpost. It confused you greatly, to see a man so sick and infested with demons, enough to crave human flesh, and yet every waking minute of your continued existence, he praised you. He expresses it so oftenly; how much he adores you, loves you, that he keeps you because he wants to be the one to care for you. He tells you that the world is ugly, non-sensible, and filled with distrustful idiots that would choose to do you harm, and reminds you of it through the example of how he met you.

He never told you of how he felt that night. At first, it was a moment of pity that caused him to stab his way through living flesh to ease your fears as he witnessed offhand of what was about to happen. Yet, when he realized that you discovered his digging of corpses to feed his cravings, his intentions changed, and he knew he couldn’t take the risk of leaving you to drag the police and find clues at the gravesite. A single strand of hair would lead the authorities to his door, and despite having a powerful hold on the police department, all thanks to his father, only a certain circle of them could ever know of his secret, thus covering up his tracks and ensuring that they were the only ones assigned to any case that he was ultimately responsible for.

He took you in, not exactly knowing what to do with you. But something started to grow inside. It all started when he saw your diligence in displaying such devoted obedience when he witnessed your struggle in placing the blindfold over your eyes. You were so trusting. For all you know, he could have deceived and finished you off, yet you carried out his demand without even so much as questioning him. The first one to ever place such trust in him, aside from his two friends. It was something Sunghoon wasn’t used to, but grew fond of the feeling of something so feminine and delicate to rely on him. You never strive to be considered lovely or gorgeous, but in his eyes, you were life and breath. When you got caught red handed trying to make your first escape, but was stuck at the elevator, he melted at the sight of your adorable wide eyes. How cute. You were so helpless, so frightened, but you still obeyed. Through your waterfall tears, you still were his good little girl and did what he told you. You did it out of fear for your own life, after seeing his capability, you figured you couldn’t put anything past him. And there was a part of him that knew that but there was a part of him that felt something deeper. As much as you would hate to admit, you are the one that inadvertently sealed your fate.

He did everything to make you comfortable, aside from having his meals in his private lounge after he tucked you into bed. He fed you the finest foods, never once forcing his sickness on to you. After all, he necessarily ever wanted to be sick in the first place, had he been given the choice, he would love to be one that developed a palate for food, the kind that everyone else enjoyed. The pressures of his fathers greed and lust is what turned him at such an early age. Since his old man controlled the city as a major political figure, it authorized destruction in Sunghoon’s emotions and mentality. He’d never forget when his father had committed his first murder, it was his opponent after the election. When his father realized he wasn’t going to win the election fairly, he ensured he was going to do so through dishonorable matters. Sunghoon was only six at the time, yet at such a tender age, he knew of his fathers corruption. Then again, the man never did much to cover it up, even in front of his only son. In fact, as he grew, it nearly seemed that his father enjoyed flaring his dirty deeds. Does anyone have a clue how it felt to be a child growing up with a murderous and selfish father? No…no one knows of his pain. Not even you. Although some day, when the time is right and you are ready, he knows that he will be able to confide in you of where his evils stemmed from. For now, it’s okay for you to think of him as a monster, so long as you stay.

You hands grip the excess material of the fluffed skirt and its laced edge. No one could ever understand how much pain you were in. You present a side eye and view the two men across the room. Quickly, you retract your sights back to the young girl before you as soon as you see Sunghoon staring. He’s always staring.

As the two enjoyed their drinks in their velvet seats, you and the other girl were displayed in front of a large painting, portrayed like small dolls at a small tea table with fine finger foods. This girl, h/n, looked to be as miserable as you. A quick glance over to the one who brought her in, the one named Jake, who Sunghoon explained was a close friend, made it easy to figure out why the girl was uneasy. Like Sunghoon, the man's eyes feasted her. He wasn’t just watching over her—no. Those eyes of his, he was desiring her just as Sunghoon desired you.

You whispered quietly and softly as you topped her tea cup. “How long?”

H/n lifts her head with glazed eyes. She looked at you sympathetically and helplessly. “How long since he took you?”

Noting that the two men were caught up in their little side conversation, h/n dips her finger into the small container of fruit preserves. On her plate, she spells out her answer before scooting it over. Six months.

Your heart sank as you felt the rage of fresh tears forming in your eyes, but withheld the urge to sob, after all, he liked seeing you cry. He constantly claimed that he will forever be responsible for your happiness, pain, and your future.

You leaned in, grabbing the Madeleine cookies off the tray as a way to communicate with her. “Is there anyway for you to escape?”

She shakes her head shamefully. “I tried…he’s made it impossible for me to leave.”

She quickly looks over to ensure that his attention was still towards Sunghoon. “If I do it again…he’ll catch me. I can’t take any more punishment.”

You raise a brow in confusion as you force her to elaborate. “Punishment?”

She nods urgently while the tears escape and drip down her face. “For breaking his rules.”

An electrifying shiver jolts up your spine. Rules?

“What type of punishment?”

She looks at you with pleading eyes. She shakes her head, signaling that she could not speak of it, or maybe she didn’t want to. You nod subtly as you shift your hand over hers, grabbing hold of it to comfort her. “I understand.”

H/n returns the handheld embrace before asking you a question that brought you back to a harrowing memory, one that you’ve tried to forget. “Has he…has Sunghoon…”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to finish her question, but the shift of her eyes traveling to the bedroom door and right back to you was all that was needed for you to understand where she was going with it. You release a deep breath. “Not all the way…not yet.”

You wanted to cry. After the first couple of weeks in being held against your will, Sunghoon inched his way to become closer to you, against your wishes.

It produced countless nights where you screamed and cried, pushing him away whenever he felt bold enough to kiss you. He forced you in his arms and embraced you lovingly, but you were disgusted by the scent of blood on his hands. No matter how many times he lathered them with soap and rinsed away his sins, you could still smell it. It was enough to make you vomit. Your mind races to the night when he laid atop your body, inhaling your kisses as his filthy hands traveled up and down your torso. You shuddered at the memory of it.

When he placed his hand under your nightgown and reached for your panties, you grew desperate and mistakenly revealed your vulnerable truth. “Stop! Please don’t do this! I’m a virgin!”

His eyes widened while his grin grew wide. You really are so pure.

He grew ecstatic, and lavished you with kisses as he remarked how you both were meant to be. Using your virginity as proof that he was the one who was fated to take it away. ‘You’re mine. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do it the right way.’

You snap back into reality and look into h/n’s eyes. “Not yet. He is going to make me marry him…”

Releasing a single tear, you gulp and bit down on your lip, finding strength within yourself. Keeping a composed face, your tears travel down, creating a feature of contradiction exposure. “He’s going to make me marry him, and then he is going to take everything away from me.”

H/n shakes her head as her brows furrow sympathetically. “He already has.”

More tears spewed as you faintly nod. Squinting your eyes, you keep in your whimpers. She was right. He already has taken everything. Sealing your existence away from society, taking you away from your family and friends, and forcing you to live in a tower filled with corpses…yeah, he already has taken everything away from you.

“Has…Jake?”

H/n shakes her head in relief, though you could see there were some reservations. “He’s done awful things…he treats me like a toy, but says he wants to take things step by step, and do it differently than how he used to do it.”

You issue a confused look. “Differently?”

H/n stares into your eyes. A stoic look graces her face as she whispers. “Then how he usually did it with other girls….he says that unlike them, I have meaning.”

“Them?”

She breathes out. “The other girls…Jake used to—“

“H/n, baby girl. Time for us to go, say goodbye to y/n.”

You both snap your heads up as Jake’s voice startles you. You watched as h/n quickly wipes away her tears and stares back down to the tiles floor. Nodding her head, she grips the edge of her denim miniskirt and stands. “What do you say, darling?”

That pet name….

“Thank you for having us. Let’s play again soon, y/n.”

You bite down on your tongue. This was all so sick. A sentimental urge ruptured within you and you quickly stood and grabbed onto h/n’a hand. Seeing your eyes, she returns the hold as you both scream and cry, yearning for each other's comfort as you share the same pain. You knew that Sunghoon would be displeased by your action, much less Jake with h/n, but it didn’t matter. You both did not care, even when they pulled you by the waist as they pry you apart. You fell apart and drop to the floor as Sunghoon gripped your hair while Jake drags H/n away. Her constant cries of your name echoes through the hall, when suddenly it all stops the moment he gets her through the front door. “H/n?…h/n?!”

Kneeling down, Sunghoon tightens his grip on your locks while pulling your head slightly back. Forcing you to face him, you gasp out frightfully as you witness the look of malice in his eyes. They were wide, his pupils shrink, causing him to look psychotic; it was enough to make you heed his warning.

“Don’t ever…EVER, do that again. Understand?”

You nod.

“You belong to me. The only name you will scream out is mine. Don’t test me. I love you, and if I have to make you understand that love, I will.”

“I-I-understand.” You struggle out your words as you felt his grip fisting your strands, growing tighter as you feel the harsh sting of the pull. Wincing in pain, his eyes begin to soften. Placing a kiss to your lips, you pin them shut, refusing to let him enter. He pulls back, all the while keeping his hold on you. “Kiss me. If you wanna keep your mouth shut, I can find another way to get inside you.”

His fangs exposed though the slick grin as he spoke out his poisonous words. Your eyes widen with fear and shock. You knew better than to call his bluff, he would do it, married or not. As he stated before, the act of marriage was a courtesy in your honor, should you give him a reason to not abide by it, he wouldn’t hesitate to take you in an instant.

Maybe you should be grateful.

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @nctsslut @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi @strxwbloody

[itskybabes-blog]

The Kiss of Red Death

Daniel Garcia x fem!reader

Warning: quite innocent, just some drinking

Word count: 740 words (short but sweet)

Comments and advice is welcome.

Part one

The bass tingles the hairs on your arms and the melodies ignite your hips. The alcohol you sipped, the taste still lingers on your lips: you’re in the groove and not ashamed of it.

You twist the knobs and press the buttons with passion, dialling up the vibes, this party would be nothing without you. Selecting the perfect soundtrack to the weekend, you’re in a trance – that is until a tenner lands on the decks.

“DJ! Reload it!” They exclaim, drunkly in joy. With a sly smirk and a brief glance up, you obey their demands and wheel up whatever cult hit you were spinning. Gotta keep the client happy, right?

You’ve been on fire all night. This might be the most amount of tips you’ve ever earned. However, nearing the end of your set, you feel a light tap on your shoulders.

Startled, you cock your head to the right and raise an eyebrow, inviting your space invader to speak. They are on borrowed time.

“Hey! You’re on fire tonight!”

Is this something you don’t already know?

Quickly pumping up your plump cheeks and flashing a tender smile, you go back to blending tracks. Let’s not kill the party.

They retreat back to the VIP section behind you and dance on with their friends.

You’ve played your last song and start to collect your things when the aforementioned intruder comes back up to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I just wanted to say I loved your set,” they say.

You finally take your face out of your bag to look at them. You take in what you can see of their face in the dimly lit club. Your breath halts as you’re stunned by the beautiful man complimenting your skills.

His dirt-coloured eyes gaze down upon you waiting for your response. You briefly look down and feel heat in your cheeks, muttering a “Thank You”.

He softly pursed his lips into a sweet smile, “No problem!”.

Awkward glances are exchanged.

“So…"

"So…"

After a few seconds, this mystery man reignites the conversation.

“So, do you DJ all the time?”

Silly question but he’s trying, right?

“No, this is my side job,” you said before heaving your bag up off the chair you shoved it in.

You begin to walk towards the cloakroom and get your coat when your admirer tapped you softly again.

“Hey, Lemme buy you a drink!”

You try to act all coy. You don’t want him to spend his hard-earned money on you, but he insists. Giving in, he nods his head over to the bar and grasps your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“Tequila?”

Yes, please! Tequila makes the world so much better.

You eagerly nod your head and hop up on a bar stool. You swing your feet – a luxury you don’t get much being 5’8 – and play with your hands. Your outgrown acrylics remind you of your nail appointment. You can’t miss that.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, two large glasses slam on the bar top and the bartender pours that sinful liquid into them. When they’re done, you swig back both shots and hold up your fingers authoritatively.

“Four more please”.

Chuckles evade the lips of your fan, “Woah! You’re a beast!”.

Years of going out three times a week kind of gives you an iron liver.

You gaze through your eyelashes whilst apologising, relying on that innocence.

“Wait! I’m doing shots with a stranger and don’t even know his name,” you say embarrassed by your lack of manners.

“I’m Danny,” he holds his hand out for you to shake.

You take a better interest in his appearance and you can see his muscular physique burst through the seams of his chiffon shirt. His olive skin seems flushed and adorned with a glittery sheen of sweat. His lips are pursed in that cheeky smile again. You caught the attention of a fine man tonight.

“Y/N,” you grip his big hand and he brings it up to kiss.

The familiar slam rings again as you see the four shots you requested.

You swig yours back again and look out the corner of your eye at Danny’s hungry gaze, looking at you boss two more shots.

“Drink up!” You tease. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Danny sniggers, swigging his glasses with his eyes still on you. He chose the right partner in crime tonight.

A/N: This is the start to my first wrestling story. I deffo plan to continue this story, but let’s see what we get.

[livgr3]

Fairy Tale Musicals: Little Shop of Horrors (1981) dir. Frank Oz

Little Shop of Horrors has a somewhat lengthy history of multiple adaptations. The first iteration of the story was the 1960 film The Little Shop of Horrors, with a screenplay inspired by science fiction stories of the 1950s. Then, the movie was adapted into an off-Broadway musical in 1982. In 1986, the popular musical was adapted into the high camp, soon to be cult-classic movie musical Little Shop of Horrors, directed by Frank Oz, whose experience in creating and puppeteering The Muppets would lend itself to Little Shop's impressive Audrey II puppets.

Three teen girls who live on Skid Row, Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon, introduce and narrate the events of the film.

Seymour and Audrey are both struggling to make ends meet, and work at Mr. Mushnik's failing flower shop on Skid Row. Seymour, who has a hobby of collecting exotic plants, brings a mysterious plant to the shop, Audrey II, which draws in customers and gives the shop a fighting chance at staying in business. As the plant begins to make Seymour more popular and successful, he discovers that the only thing that he can feed the plant to make it grow is human blood. (Also it can talk and sing.) Meanwhile, Audrey's abusively masochistic dentist boyfriend Orin becomes more and more insidious towards her, making him into the perfect candidate for Audrey II's first victim...

Aesthetic Markers of Class, Race, and "Bootstraps" Myths Through Song

Though Oz's film is still set in the 1960s when its source film was made and generally parodies conventions of '60s B-movies, it is clearly influenced by the politics of the 1980s, when it was made. I will read Oz's Little Shop alongside two specific events: The Reagan Administration and the Second-wave Feminist movement.

Let's close read the musical number "Skid Row" to see how formal and stylistic elements enhance racial difference and enforce the "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps" rhetoric that became popular during the Reagan era as a way to justify and distract from the growing economic disparities in America.

Though the three narrators provide a segue into the song by exclaiming that there is no chance of "bettering ourselves" on Skid Row, Audrey and Seymour end the song determined to get out of their situations. They are notably the only two people in this ensemble number to sing about getting out of Skid Row, looking up towards the sky as the song ends while the rest of the cast looks down. Several other stylistic markers set Audrey and Seymour apart throughout the song, such as the bright lighting on only them, their brighter clothes/hair in comparison to everyone else's dull attire, and even the slower tempo and more gentle style of singing during their verses.

While Seymour and Audrey's economic status makes them "Othered" protagonists (much like Eliza Dolittle in Ray's analysis of My Fair Lady), the formal elements of this number serve to further Otherize people of color. It is important to consider Seymour and Audrey's whiteness in comparison to the ensemble, which consists of many Black performers. With these two white characters as the only ones to sing about wanting to get out of Skid Row while the others do not, the film contributes racist capitalist narratives that one's economic status is a "choice." This is further supported by the fact that the rest of the ensemble of this number rarely shows up throughout the rest of the film. Their only purpose is to foil the protagonists' strife, making the audience feel as though they are rooting for the "little guy" or the "Other" at the expense of another, racialized Other.

However, the narrative that continues after this song seems to subvert and rework this very same myth of finding economic success through the exploitation of The Other.

After finding out that Audrey II feeds on human flesh and blood, the meek and good-natured Seymour struggles to see anyone as "deserving" of death. That is, until Audrey II directs him towards Audrey's abusive boyfriend Orin. Fast forward a bit, and Seymour later feeds his boss, Mr. Mushnik, to Audrey II. The death of both these characters promote Audrey II's growth, which increases the attention it gets from the media and therefore brings Seymour more wealth.

Since the film dips into conventions of Sci-Fi and monster movies, it is expected that those who are killed for financial gain are bodies which have been marked as disposable or lesser. However, the victims in this film, a horribly misogynistic man with a good career and a boss who disregards the well-being of his workers, could easily be construed as heroes in other films. In this film, Seymour and Audrey II flip the narrative of violent exploitation, fighting against oppressive figures in order to succeed in the very capitalist system which they help promote.

Complicating Femininity Through Race and Class

 Ray writes of My Fair Lady as indicating what it means to properly "be" a woman through a rags to riches transformation. Little Shop sets up the perfect foundation for such a transformation to occur to Audrey, who defies any notions of demure, proper womanhood with her "trashy" style and nasally voice. This physical transformation never happens, though, and Audrey's femininity or womanhood are never in question.

Instead, Audrey undergoes an internal transformation through the film's exploration of domestic abuse, which seems to be informed by a heightened awareness of the issue thanks to the advancements of the Second Wave Feminist movement. I find that the film handles this issue surprisingly well, with Audrey experiencing symptoms of abuse in a way that is very realistic, and she is never treated as a source of blame for the abuse Orin subjects her to. When Orin's death frees her of her circumstances, she regains a sense of autonomy and self-confidence.

Audrey's "I want" song, "Somewhere That's Green," also handles contentious aspects of womanhood in a way which considers economic class. In this song, Audrey sings that her biggest dream in life is to live in a comfortable suburban home married to Seymour. While the Second Wave Feminist movement fought against the designation of women as housewives, such a lifestyle would be a privilege to Audrey in her current economic state.

However, the film's three narrators are not given the same complex characterization. Ray writes of the "transgressive inner voice" of female musical protagonists as something progressive and empowering. The three narrators in Little Shop are basically only their voices (and they out-sing everyone else in the cast tbh), existing as an omnipotent presence that is only partially connected to the world of the film. Though the film definitely showcases their vocal talent and charm, they are reduced to an accessory with the sole purpose of narrating white stories.

Two Endings

The film's original ending followed the ending of the stage musical. In this version, Audrey II kills both Audrey and Seymour. Businessmen take cuttings of Audrey II and sell it across the country, accidentally creating an army of Audrey IIs that take over the US.

After two test screenings which left audiences uncomfortable and speechless, Oz filmed a new ending before the wider release of the film. In this new conclusion, Audrey and Seymour survive, kill Audrey II and live happily ever after.

Discussion Questions!

Does camp and the tone of movie musicals make it easier to include anti-capitalist themes and narrative points? Might the film have been made and widely released if the same themes were conveyed in a more "serious" manner?

What is the significance of Audrey II being a plant, as opposed to another kind of being? Could there be an environmentalist reading of the film?

Why do you think the darker ending was successful in the stage musical, but made audiences of the film adaptation uncomfortable? Do stage plays and films evoke different expectations?

What do you make of the second ending and the role of happy endings more generally - can they evoke a sense of hope, or are they an unrealistic distraction from real issues?

[cult-of-chaos-comic]

Prologue: Equal Opportunity

Cover + Recap Page + Pages 1-3

Writing by Ash Rose

Storyboarded by @queenofwerewolves

Lineart, Colors & Shading by Ash Rose

// TRANSCRIPT

COVER ART: Neck-up drawings of Dark Enchantress Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, and Red Velvet Cookie in decending order, shaded with harsh black shadows. The background is completely black aside from a glowing red ring behind the three characters. There is a dark red border around the outside of the image that has a triangle sectioned off from it on the top right. Within the triangle, the text "#0" is hand written in golden yellow. On the top of the image is the Cookie Run: Cult of Chaos logo, and on the bottom of the image is the chapter title "Equal Opportunity" in text that fades from red to golden yellow, with a red border around it.

RECAP PAGE:

⚠️ BEFORE THE STORY ⚠️

A Day Off's Storytime

On the days that he has off from his usual work as General and Creator of the Cakehound Army, Red Velvet Cookie likes to give his soldiers a touch up in appearances with a trim to their fur.

One day, while he does this on one of his most loyal soldiers; Chiffon, he was asked by the loyal pup to tell a story from his childhood - specifically that of when he and his boss/mother Dark Enchantress Cookie had traveled to the City of Wizards, an event that had resulted in the possession of an apparently magical book that Red Velvet Cookie still has wuth him to this very day.

But just as he was finishing the story, Pomegranate Cookie, his fellow Cookie of Darkness, had appeared at their doorstep with a strange device that she had received from a heist their co-workers had done for Pomegranate Cookie. In a moment of coincidence, Red Velvet Cookie knew what the device was thanks to that very book, identifying as a "Magical Ring Portal".

But now just one question stands...

What opportunities can be found for the Cookies of Darkness with such a device?

WHO'S WHO:

Red Velvet Cookie - Cakehound Army General

Pomegranate Cookie - Dark Priestess

Chiffon - Top Cakehound Army Soldier

???

PAGE 1:

[LOCATION - Red Velvet Cookie's bedroom]

Pomegranate Cookie: [confused, but still trying to keep her composure] Magical… Ring Portal, hmm?

Red Velvet Cookie: [excitedly holding up the ring in his non-cake hand] Why, I do believe it is!

Pomegranate Cookie: [her usual demeanor, but you can just ever so slightly see the curiosity in her eyes] I see… I'm sure it wouldn't be too much to ask of you to tell me what this Magical Ring Portal is and does, hmm?

PAGE 2:

Red Velvet Cookie: [places his cake arm behind his back and takes a sort of bow] Oh no, it absolutely wouldn't be! Especially for you, Pomegranate Cookie.

Pomegrante Cookie: ....

Pomegranate Cookie: [eyes narrow] Cut the flattery, Red Velvet Cookie.

Red Velvet Cookie: [goes back to standing straight, looking a tad embarrassed] Right, right, my bad.

PAGE 3:

Red Velvet Cookie: [displays the magical ring, still in his non-cake arm, with pride] The Magical Ring Portal, a device used to travel to and from the Chaos Dimension, one of the four primary dimensions in our multiverse!

Red Velvet Cookie: [Eyes shift to now glancing at PomC as he theatricaly tosses the ring in the air] With this having been originally in the possession of Gingerbrave and company, it would seem that perhaps they had traveled to that dimension during the adventure your mirror showed you.

Pomegrante Cookie: [nodding] That certainly would be a logical conclusion to make.

Red Velvet Cookie: [non cake hand scratching chin, catching the ring on one of the fingers on his cake hand] But that doesn't dwindle things down much, does it?

UPDATE 2

[bear-boi-5]

Magic Man

Introducing, your fun companion, Magic Man! He loves to chat and play games with his friends! Some of his favourite activities are card games, magic tricks and controlling a large cult solely devoted to worshipping him and his demonic presence.

That last part was a joke! :]

Anyways, Magic Man is a character I've had for about 3-4 years now. This is his 4th redesign and was originally created as apart of a simple in class task where you made a mini book. He was just a joke character but has become one of my most fleshed out characters I've created, I love him to bits. He's got pretty deep lore just beyond his TV head exterior.

He's like a mix of Bill Cipher and Chiffon (Sir Fluff on YouTube, go check em out if you don't know em yet). His personality was built around Chiffon's oddly menacing cheerful personality.

[phoenix-darkmoon]

Beyond Eternity Chapter 3

Vasxyra overlooked Bloomridge Park from the balcony of the once sealed off tower of the Crimson Palace, her dark vision piercing the moonless night as easily as if it were daylight. The city had recovered quickly in the months following the battle with The Absolute and life had returned to normal for most people. The graveyard held many fresh new graves from the battle, but otherwise, life went on. She saw a pair of young lovers meeting secretly in the park, spreading a blanket to lie beside one another to look up at the stars. Her breath came out in a visible mist as she sighed. The air was growing colder as the seasons were beginning to shift. All too soon it would be time for the Graverending, the sole sacred day of her mistress. A heavy cloak fell upon her shoulders and Astarion's strong fingers pressed knowingly into tired muscles, his lips pressing into her hair just behind her ear and taking in her scent. “You haven't taken a meal today either. You must eat, love, you're still mortal.”

She leaned back against him wearily. “Hunger eludes me when I am lost in my work, you know that.” She said, closing her eyes and enjoying the ministrations his hands were giving her neck and shoulders. Despite the castle being safe for her to conduct her work, it was a long and arduous task. The first thing they had done upon gaining control of the palace was to establish control over the Szarr family. Then they had set about building a good reputation among the people of Baulder's Gate by helping rebuild the city and helping the poor and common folk. Appearing in the sunlight helped banish any lingering rumors of vampires, as did opening up all the windows and boarded up towers and exits the palace once had sealed. Now that Astarion had the sun back, he relished in its light. She couldn't fault him for it, he was born a high elf, a creature of the light, but for her the dark would always be home. Still, she tolerated the sun because it brought him such joy, even when it weakened her. For her part she traded in her travel robes for much finer fabrics of blackened chiffon veils and shawls, silver rings on each finger and a simple circlet with a small skull in the middle of her forehead that she enchanted with detect thoughts, something much more in line with a priestess of Kiaransalee, or even the cult of the dragon, and as the unofficial mistress of House Szarr in Baulder's Gate no one questioned it. The circlet she wore was her most valuable asset currently and she wore it constantly. It allowed her to peer into the thoughts of those around her effortlessly, giving her insight into their minds. More than once, she had used it on the man standing behind her in an effort to better understand him and during those glimpses she had come to realize that he did not think himself worthy of her. Beneath all his power, all his bluster and boasting, he was still afraid of losing her. That fear is why she would still catch him, every once in a while, staring at her neck with an intensity that would make her shudder; or he would place a kiss on her throat and his lips would linger at her pulse just a second longer than necessary. She wouldn't lie, the potential danger was exhilarating and he hadn't laid with her again since that night in the Elfsong Tavern. It was most vexing, but she didn't want to push him either. Her appetites ran strong and deep despite her exhaustion and his hands on her shoulders weren't doing her any favors.

She looked back down at the young lovers on the blanket. They too had given up their star gazing and instead were embracing one another, their lips locked together under the dark sky thinking no one could see them. Suddenly, phantom hands were on Vasxyra's hips and she gasped in surprise, her spine going stiff. Astarion was instantly alert, releasing her and looking around for any sign of a threat. “What is it?” Despite his vampirism, she could still see better than him in the dark and he thought perhaps she saw something he couldn't. The words were barely out of his mouth when she moaned softly, almost pleadingly, and her knees buckled under her. “Vas!” He lurched forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, catching her from behind, and leaned her against the banister carefully.

Her hand was shaking as she took hold in a death grip and tried to keep herself upright on her equally shaky legs. “I'm....I'm alright.” she said, but her breathing was ragged, her shoulders heaving under the heavy cloak he had draped around her for warmth. Her other hand was clutching the cloak closed as if to shield her, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she panted, trying to regain her composure.

Astarion placed his other hand on the banister beside her to give them both more support as he held her quivering body, the worst case scenarios running through his mind. Was it poison? A spell? She cried out again into the moonless night, her back arching away from him as she held the banister trying to find purchase and this time it was a sound Astarion knew only too well. His hand gripping the wooden banister clenched around it so tightly the wood cracked, his pointed nails digging into the ancient material. Concern instantly dissolved into anger and frustration. “That damned incubus.” He growled into her ear and she shuddered against him.

“Yes, the incubus.” She said, still breathless. The phantom sensations were still there but they were fading away now, becoming bearable. “I think it was so intense this time because I'm so exhausted.” As her composure returned she noticed how tense Astarion was as still as the grave behind her. The way he was holding her essentially had her trapped, and she was sure the ancient wood under his hand wouldn't withstand much more force. Gently, she laid her hand on his. “Astarion, are you alright?” Without answering, he scooped her up into his arms like a bride and they dissolved into mist. They reformed into solid form back in their bedroom and he deposited her onto their bed unceremoniously before crawling onto her and capturing her lips with his. The kiss was rough and commanding, his fangs biting painfully at her lower lip. She opened obediently and tongues met, her hands clawing at his shirt until she was able to pull it free of his trousers and get her fingers underneath.

He slid a knee between her legs and she moaned, tearing her lips from his just to breathe and ground her hips against his knee. “Delicious” he purred at her ear, his hand moving down and back up under the slit of her black robe only to drag his pointed nails down the outside of her thigh as he lifted her leg to drape it gently over his hip. She raked her own fingernails down his back in response, hissing in pleasure at the sensation of his scars under her nails and arched her back into him. “Good girl. You enjoy the things I do to your body.”

Something about the way he said it broke through the fog of pleasure clouding her mind and she opened heavily lidded eyes to take in his face. Despite his expression of pleasure, she could tell by his eyes that he was a realms away, lost somewhere in his own mind. She had sensed this same distance in him their first night together and again when they shared a bed with Halsin and the twins. She didn't need to detect his thoughts to know he was thinking something distracting and probably something she would rather not know. With an exaggerated sigh she reached up and flung the cloak from her shoulders then grabbed at his shirt and dragged it roughly over his head to leave him bare chested. She sat up, pushing gently at his shoulder and placing gentle kisses along his collar bone until she coaxed him off of her and allowed her to straddle him instead. She moaned and ground her hips down on his, feeling him responding to her through the thin fabric of her robes and with a sly smile she pulled one of her black sheer veils from around her waist. “Do you trust me?”

“Mmm, bondage play? I really must start exploring your limits more.” He said through hooded eyes, but his expression never changed.

With a sensual laugh she lay forward and loosely tied the veil over his eyes. Through the sheer fabric he could still see the outline of her body as she took his hands and laid them over her hips. “Now that I have your undivided attention, I don't know where you've gone off to in that head of yours, my love, but come back to me. I know you aren't really here with me in this moment, so come back. Hear my voice.” she whispered and placed a kiss to his pointed ear, she trailed her fingers along his jawline and traced his lips with their tips. “taste me on your tongue.” she said and kissed him softly. She heard him inhale deeply, taking in her scent as they kissed, and she moved her hands back to his wrapping her fingers around his wrist and sliding his hands up the soft fabric of her robes, over the mound of her breast and pressed his palm over her the plane of her chest. “Feel me, Astarion. My skin...my heart....my life.” She entwined her fingers with his and lifted them to her lips, placing a kiss on the back of them then reached forward and with one swift, gentle motion she removed the blindfold from his eyes. The crimson gaze that met hers was clear and almost held an air of awe as she looked down at him, her pearl eyes shining with affection. “Are you back with me?”

Gently, he disengaged his fingers from hers only to reach up and tangle them in the silver strands at the nape of her neck. “You are...the most amazing creature.” He said and pulled her slowly to him for another deep kiss.

Satisfied, she slid from his lap to lie beside him, snuggling into his side with a contended sigh. “That was the first time you've included me in your travels as mist. How far do you think your powers could take us in that form?”

She heard him chuckle beside her. “Thinking of traveling the world now, love?”

“Nothing so extravagant.” She smiled, sleepily. Just recalling your boasts of summoning legions of wolves and shrouding the world in fog for your children.” she said, sweeping her hand in front of her dramatically before letting it drop back to the bed. It was then she recalled a small passage she had read in her studies of the undead and on vampires in particular. It was rare, and could only be accomplished by true vampires like Cazador that were recently well fed but it was possible to conceive children with mortals. Astarion had had actual life returned to him, the first living vampire ascendant. It was probably more than possible in his case. She shifted uncomfortably, her jaw clenching subconsciously.

Astarion sensed the change in her mood immediately. “What's gotten into that sweet head of yours now?” he asked.

She studied the silver rings on her fingers a moment before answering. “Have you ever thought about it? Having children, I mean?”

“Feeling jealous, my love?” he teased.

“Not spawn,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him, “true children. Blood of your blood and flesh of your flesh?”

He studied her face, trying to determine how to answer. “I don't think it matters considering it isn't exactly a possibility any more, is it?” he asked hesitantly.

For a brief moment she thought of lying to him but stopped herself before she even attempted. She had already told him she would do her best to be honest with him from now on. “It is.” she finally said. He sat up a mix of excitement and shock on his face and she pulled one of her veils up around her shoulders and over her hair, pulling the hem forward to hide her face as she turned away. “I don't blame you for being excited, my love. I'm sure you have many questions and I'll do my best to use my necromantic knowledge to answer them, but I truly am exhausted. Could we speak on this after I rest? As you mentioned earlier, I am still mortal.”

“Oh, yes...yes of course, Darling.” Astarion said and reached for her to coax her back down onto the bed. She lay down, her veils fluttering gently around her, but there was a distance to her now and Astarion was left with a wealth of new questions to ponder as he gently stroked his fingers down her shoulder while her breathing slowed and deepened. Elves didn't truly sleep, they meditated but even so she still needed it. He couldn't remember the last time she had allowed herself to take a full rest and she desperately required one. Even with her darker skin tone he could see the exhausted bruises under her eyes from the long nights she spent pouring over her work and the even longer days she spent with him among the people of Baulder's Gate building an image of nobility. His precious treasure, he didn't deserve all she did for him and still she kept giving, even without being his spawn. The first birdsong had begun when he finally pried himself from her side and made his way down to dining hall. Inside, a young ginger haired girl was already awake and busily lighting candles around the hall. “Yenna, make sure she eats something today. I'll be back this evening.” He commanded as he moved past.

The young girl stopped what she was doing and gave him a small curtsy. “Yes, Lord Astarion.” At her feet, a mangy orange tabby cat arched its back nervously and darted under her skirt. Astarion just smirked at the simple creature and continued on his way.

[i-llbedammned]

Medium term songs:

Best Tears — The Happy Fits

Someone New — Hozier

Problems — DeathbyRomy

POLTERGEIST! — CORPSE, OmenXIII

EAT SPIT! (feat. Royal & the Serpent) — Slush Puppy, Royal & the Serpent

Cemetery — Run River North

For My Friends — King Princess

Growing Up — Run River North

Haunt Me — XY&O

Apricots — MAY-A

All These Years — Camila Cabello

Silk Chiffon — MUNA, Phoebe Bridgers

Blame It On The Girls — MIKA

Take Me to War (Live) — The Crane Wives

The Louisville Shuffle (RIP) — Sarah and the Safe Word

Sweet but Psycho — Ava Max

Make of It — half•alive

Love Brand New — Bob Moses

cult leader — KiNG MALA

Here's to Us — Halestorm

Knife Under My Pillow — Maggie Lindemann

Daisy — Rain Paris

Escape From The City ...for City Escape — Ted Poley, Tony Harnell

New — No Doubt

Shine — Mr. Big

To My Enemies — Saint Motel

Side Effects — Stray Kids

Put Your Records On — Corinne Bailey Rae

One — U2

Voices Carry — 'Til Tuesday

SHUM — Go_A

Over — A Perfect Circle

Scattered — Green Day

Venus in Gemini — DEZI

Bathwater — No Doubt

Supernatural — Ken Ashcorp

If I Keep Drifting — Welles

Come Out Ye Black & Tans — The Wolfe Tones

MISS ME? — Kordhell, Scarlxrd

Kingdom Come — Missouri Surf Club

Blame it On Me — Bonnie Raitt

Bad Guy — The Cog is Dead

Straight to Hell — Great Big Sea

I Wanna Be Yours — Arctic Monkeys

Dear Fellow Traveller — Sea Wolf

Eat Your Young — Hozier

Bloody Mary — Lady Gaga

Blush — Dessa

Fight to Keep — Run River North

Leaving Of Liverpool — The High Kings

go here and let me know what your short term top artists from spotify (within the last 4 weeks) are in the tags!

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

2.23.25 Sunday--Continuosly doing the prayer vow for nana & Sir Paez...

6:43 am

Still,have windblow...

Waiting for 7 am for the prayer vow for nana & Sir Paez....

Again,there is nothing impossible if you do your prayer with Love and Faith... But hoping the people in the cult are religious enough to balance their own yin-yang... I can feel that these are mixed of my some old fakers friends, some relative and some artist on TV,people who are recruited by some old fakers friends.... I haven't seen them for 18 years as well....

I'm not happy being like this.... I need money... I'm out of coffee,angels....

8:03 am

Still,have windblow...

I hope I can get a "Payout" from "Halloween Balls" and "Mahjong" ...

It is impossible that there is no genuine in these games.... Why?Why there are so many advertisement and they put it there.... But as far as I observe these are chosen people or people who got codes....

I'm religious and I'm hurt coz probably these are chosen people... Why,they can't help me... I'm not a bad person!

I have a bad windblow....If Mark is part of it?? Doesn't want to get me coz his belief is they are the only people who will have the right to get a success here on earth,that's a bad character....Or if he is like Mitch just observing me like this,flatten...

I still hate Manalo's group for kicking me out in the world... I hate their "Chiffon Organizer"...

8:56 am

Still,have windblow...

I'm having anxiety, I just click the payout after 8 days on "Halloween Balls" but it is not easy... It can give you an anxiety while playing it, if it is real or not... I'm still on it doing the next level... But I still have awareness that I need to have an actual job. Waiting for the success of payout after 8 days... It depends on the game rules...

On "Mahjong" it is my 5th day today it gives me anxiety.... But not yet reaching the payout coz they adjusted the game rule...

9:16 am

Still,have windblow...

Windblow question if I really like the Chinese Chef? Yeah! The one that I posted here,yeah! I like him but I don't know how to get him... Just like the others, my cousin-white is half-american so we can make a way to have a better life but he needs to help me, Vince Hizon he is a morning star and I don't know if he can like me and I don't know how to see him, the son of tita Stella is one of my types....

The windblow wanted me to describe the son of tita Stella....The first and last that I saw the son of tita Stella, I find him so cute coz my X-partner was a bit like him when he became bigger while having our relationship and when he returned from the sea....The face is really one of my types, I can spend day and night looking at his face and their wealthy according to Uncle Doods. But I'm not sure if he is still single and still fixing himself coz I think he is vain, the son of tita Stella... I don't know if he can like me coz tita Stella is tall... I'm shorty....

The advantage of morning star all the possible chances are open like a sponsored house, vanities and a bit of fame and so many sponsorship....

Morning star can be killed by aristocrats or the real upper people but I'm ohkay with the Morning Star...

On Alamid, the white vocalist is my favorite vanilla baby.... Morning star as well....

Garret is a morning star, vanilla baby as well... But they tanned a bit, I guess...

Pilot Pete is a morning star coz he is youtuber but he is happy already ....

9:43 am

Still,have windblow...

I know there are good people to me coming from the cult but they are not smart enough.... I hate them if they have an on-line games and they will not allow me to have an access for the payouts???

1:17 pm

Still,have windblow...

Uncle DD is fake....They will remove the ref... He can't manage the 3k electric.. What can we do? They can't handle the cheap 3k...

I have no job angels anf extra for myself...

Uncle Jun is successful to smash me??? Uncle Jun can lift other people....He is very successful on getting a timing based on the situation like Mitch???

Now they are talking about who will take care of nana in the hospital. Someone in the family targeted me to be their caregiver without money angels...

I know Manalo is handling the electric they charge as double for the 2 efans and ref and rice cooker the last time we are just alone here, John and I...

Uncle DD is successful as well here to destroy my college diploma... I can't get a job... They will sell this house...

So, sad plastics this Uncle Jun... When it comes to timing Uncle Jun is good when he has a story to plot....

2:41 pm

Still,have windblow...

Angels, I really wanna cry,my inside is I really wanna kill angels... They made me feel out of place...

I wanna kill for the money coz I'm not a bad person... I'm drained coz I'm trying to find the money making apps...

I was a choir member angels....Life is unfair.... I'm not a bad person.

I tried getting a job... I was able to work ....I wanna kill for the money. Who are those people who are unfair and selfish example on these money making apps as back-up... There is or there are genuine games but how to link on people,who got the codes here on earth...

I feel wasted but I still need to keep on trying to find the money making apps....

I need to release stress I have to sing on "Wesing"...

4:34 pm

Still,have windblow...

Our ref is off... I feel self-pity.... Uncle Jun is plastics angels....So sad....He is successful on targeting me...

Awhile ago he said to Uncle DD that you should cut their electric here.... He was somehow whispering... But I was able to hear...

5:06 pm

Still,have windblow...

I think we should this fakers friends??? MITCH WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Kindly open it angels....

6:25 pm

Still,have windblow...

Thanks Kuya Efren & Ate Susan...

Thanks for the charity coz I'm broke!!! I'm broke angels...

6:37 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel self-pity... I need a job and money.... I feel self-pity...

I wanna own a Pet Store and English school for kids and teens,angels...

Someone called me about Maya...I didn't have a loan from them...

I said if I'm talking to an attorney? ( Kung nakikipag-usap ba ako sa isang abogado? ).

The difference of this --If I'm talking to attorney? ( Kung nakikipag-usap ba ako sa abogado?).

I wanna have a kindergarten school for English... It is high-priced in a way... Very womanly effect to own an English school...

I still wanna do nose perfection and my teeth polisher angels....

9:07 pm

Still,have windblow...

Done,eating dinner and done, on prayer vow...

Kuya Efren already collected the old stuff here with his nephews...

I still feel self-pity coz I don't have a job... I wanna get a job even a work from home or somewhere... Whose plan is this? 18 years and I was really thinking that my old fakers friends didn't want me around??? I just wanna cry in-front of them...

I want them to know that I'm really hurt... Maturity is for everyone... Don't be greedy on that so called "maturity"...

18 years they are all a big mystery for me,my mixed friends,they know themselves...They know that they are guilty..

Like what I posted if they think that they are prettier than me, have a fair heart... Did I steal someone from someone? Prettier than me it doesn't mean that a friend has a right to smash me coz we are friends,right???

If they are sexier than me it doesn't mean to put me at the back stage without telling me that,hey! you are my friend join us here on the stage... You will not let your friend be a laughing matter in the center stage... Did Mitch do that or anyone from Cebu Pacific Air or anyone from TV or anyone from somewhere but claiming that we are friends. Claiming that we are friends but they didn't want me around since 2007??? Right?

Friends must have a bonding or a strategy to keep the friendship alive...

I don't have any idea where they are? If they are on cult or any movement,if I'm the judge??? What is that movement? Why is it nobody tell me??? I wanna gain friends... I don't like anyone who will cut anyone from me, that I know still my old friends,right? I don't want a bf who will cut my friends away from me....

I'm really,really,really hurt and offended...

Friendship must have a hint on the society. Friendship it is a relationship that other people must see that we have the friendship,that we are together or we have a consistency on meeting each other...

[christmastheodora]

This is a little snippet from the novel that I am working on which is based on the myths of Ariadne in Greek mythology. The plot revolves around a biohacking cult with influencers as initiates. In this scene, they are meeting some billionaire investors on their yacht. Dai is the cult leader. Ariadne is the POV character and second in command. The Guests are all of the influencers.

We dressed the six Guests in a similar fashion. They were draped black chiffon chitons, with golden embroidery that spiraled around the borders of the fabric. They walked in their configuration, two of a kind, three in a row leading us as we stared out onto the sea. Their hair clung to their heads, only the implant visible on the shaved side of their heads.

And in this Greek-deco style, I had on a ruched black Delphos gown that gave me a slinky appeal. It was made from fine woven silk and made sure every curve, slant, and bone was visible through the fabric. I was feeling luxuriously with gold wrapped around my waist. My hair was done up elegantly, teased, and braided, in a toss of curls above my head. Dai had his arm around my waist as we were about to board another vessel, a superyacht that was three times the size of ours.

There was a man who waited for us, as the other vessel’s workers anchored our ship to theirs. He stood with a small crowd behind him. “Now, don’t do anything irrational. Let me handle this so that nothing will go wrong.”

“We know that works out so very well, Dai,” I replied.

He stood dressed in black like the rest of us, a drape of dark blue hanging around him that fell off his back like a cape. He had a small ring of gold that wrapped around his head, contrasting with his silver hair. He used a cane, which was tipped with a golden handle shaped like a poodle, for his mobility which I had insisted upon. “It doesn’t match,” he had complained.

“You look brilliant,” he was looking me over, ignoring everything else that was happening.

[ineachretelling]

On the 23rd day in the month of September, in a year from a decade not too long before our own, a threat to the sanctity of a cult classic musical came into being... or did it? Dear listeners, your host did not expect her friends to be so eager to read her silly little sequel to one of her favorite musicals, but they did, and now you get to hear this utter nonsense! This podcast contains swearing and monster violence. This scriptment is a work of fanfiction, all familiar characters belong to their respective holders.

IER Presents Cast and Characters

Dree Krelborn - read by River Lane Fern Krelborn/Dawn - read by Charley the Pirate Theydy Seymour Krelborn/Summer/Bobby - read by Bex Silberfein Audrey Krelborn/Chiffon - read by Sydney McGaughey Ronette - read by Jas/Germ Crystal/Pamela - read by Shamila Karunakaran Rosie/Robbie/Jessica/additional voices - read by Jasmine Garcia

Songs sung by Jasmine Garcia and Sydney McGaughey

[julialouisdreyfest]

Giant Wave Interview

Giant Wave is a musical project from Will Ryerson. Will is a local Billings resident but has spent some time in Baltimore, cultivating sounds that could certainly fit as an arraignment of the intro song to The Wire. Angus (aka Agnar) asked Will some questions!

Angus: With being a resident of both Baltimore and Billings, are there any other “B” places on earth you are planning to conquer?

Will: I’ve been to Brooklyn many times, it’s okay. Bozeman has some cool folks amidst the boring rich people. My mother and a few friends live in beautiful areas of northern Vermont near Burlington, a place/ area where I’ve also spent quite a bit of time and would consider moving to under the right circumstances. Further afield: Brussels, Burkina Faso, Bali… would go to any/all without hesitation.

Q: If you only had to choose one between the base guitar or the synthesizer, which one would you stick with?

A: Bass guitar has endlessly funky possibilities that I most fully explored as bassist in the band Chiffon (back in Bmore). But synths are more versatile for sonic world-building. Is this a boring answer?

Q: What are the similarities of playing experimental electronic music in front of a crowd and reading story books to preschool children?

A: Maintaining the listener’s attention and choosing the correct volume.

Q: Out of all of your previous music projects both solo and as part of a group, is there any one particular release that sticks out to you personally?

A: Probably “Natural Motion”, the final album from my old indie-pop band Other Colors (released in 2016). Although I’ve moved on from it + that project stylistically, it was the first time that I, with supreme assistance and invaluable collaboration from bandmates, successfully realized a big-picture musical vision in a recording studio. Despite failing to catapult us to indie music stardom, I’m still very proud of it.

Q: What are your opinions on the 2001 cult classic Freddy Got Fingered staring Tom Green?

A: A manic tour-de-force from a wildly creative neurodivergent hero. There’s a strong anti-capitalist current throughout, I think, which is kind of buried underneath the surface-level madness. Sausages!

Catch Giant Wave at the Agnar hosted Noise Mini-Fest / Show (we really need to work on our packaging) at the North Park Rec Center at 3pm on Saturday, the 10th!