#the formatting for posting this is weird i know but it's a scan from a magazine? i think?

[mastersoftheair]

part of an interview with george webster (from autumn '22) done with HATC Magazine

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Five

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This was my first attempt at smut (I giggled posting this, I am so excited!). I am new, but any advice is welcome! I tried something different with formatting (you'll see when you get there). I didn't want anything to be spoiled while ya'll rode the emotional rollercoaster that is this chapter. Let me know if it was weird and didn't work (or if it did that would be great!). I also added a link to the music found in a later part of this chapter in case you wanted to listen while you read.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Five - Night's Mistress

Content Warning: Blood, Blood Play, Murder, Choking, Graphic Sexual Scenes Involving Violence, Smut, MINORS DNI! (let me know if I missed anything else!)

The pull behind your navel felt foreign. 

It didn’t come with the taste of honey or the scent of daffodils like Rosie’s summons normally did. It didn’t come with a hint of sass or flood your mouth with spice like Carmilla’s. Crimson’s tasted of red pepper flakes and copper - a disgusting combination - but he was no longer an issue. 

This pull, however, was new and terribly, terribly… boring. 

Has one of your cards fallen to a rogue with sticky fingers? Has one of your holders died and a new holder taken their place? 

Whomever it was, the pull made you pause atop your perch overlooking V Tower. With Vox’s new Angelic Security soon to be released, you didn’t know how close you could get to the media demon’s headquarters. So you sat a few buildings away, scanning the horizon for any newfound technology that might impede your nighttime endeavors. 

There was another tug. 

Jesus, impatient much? 

You stood, stretching the stiffness from your legs. It was late, you’ve been out here for hours watching absolutely nothing happen. All the Vees like to do is sit, drink, and talk shit. Seriously what did they get out of their friendship? Was it friendship? Or were they all fucking? Ugh, you did not want that picture in your head.

Okay, time to go. 

You jumped, allowing the smoke to envelop your form. Feeling the pull, you headed toward the inner part of the city. Circling Heaven’s Clocktower, you broke off back toward the Magne District - the district that held the Hotel. Except you weren’t headed for your new home. The pull brought you left, almost to the border town but not quite, to an old tower.

In a plume of smoke, you landed on a balcony, the black swirls twirling about the landing before pooling over the sides. You were probably twenty stories up, the tallest building around. Not nearly as tall as V Tower - which the balcony gave you a great view of - but still, Pentagram City was striking. 

The balcony was connected to an apartment, reachable to the world only by an elevator at its center. Behind you was a wall of glass, heavy curtains preventing you from peering inside. On the balcony sat a small table, framed by two iron chairs. The setup was empty, except for your card which sat atop the table, a single drop of blood at its center. 

You took a step, your feet finding a puddle of red before you finally noticed the body. It was face down, scarlett flooding from a wound which wasn’t visible to you. It didn’t appear to be anyone you knew. Definitely a Human Sinner, but not one particularly interesting. 

So who in Hell summoned you? 

As if on cue, a zip of static runs across the back of your neck. 

Of-fucking-course…

“Ah, there you are,” Alastor emerges from the darkened apartment, shutting the door behind him with a kick of his heel, a smooth jazz playing on his radio.

Your heart skips a beat as his eyes find yours. Half-lidded, he smirks, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pair of glasses in another. 

Your eyes flit between the dead Sinner on the floor and the red demon before you. “You did not use your own blood?" This was a first. Cardholders always used their own blood. Although not directly stated, it was implied. 

“Heavens, no!” The demon places the glasses on the table, next to the obsidian calling card, as he uncorks the bottle using the tip of his claw. “We barely know each other. That would be too…” His eyes slid to yours. You feel his gaze rake over your form eliciting a blush beneath your cloak. “Intimate.” 

Jesus. 

You stifle a sharp intake of breath. 

Get your shit together. You’re a fucking Overlord for Christ’s sake. 

You drop his gaze, eyeing the half-dead pile of blood beneath your feet. 

“Ah, apologies for the mess,” Alastor snaps and the Sinner, along with the blood, disappears. “Wine?” The red demon holds a glass out to you, liquid sloshing in its basin. 

You look at your boots before moving, noticing he even wiped the blood from their leather. How thoughtful. 

Goblet in hand, you finally join the Radio Demon in the chair adjacent to his, and gaze out to the City. 

It was quiet, the hustle of Pentagram City’s nightlife drowned out by his jazz. Funny, you thought it almost peaceful. Could Hell be peaceful? No. That would be an oxymoron. Hell was designed not to be peaceful by definition. Yet all the way up here, tucked far back from the rest of the chaos, you could pretend it was. 

The demon sits back in his chair, crossing his legs at his knees. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his shoes have a print on the bottom - a deer’s hoof. How fitting. 

The obsidian calling card sits between you, a drop of scarlet crusting on its surface. Letters in white slowly fade from the card’s edge, signifying the death of the card owner. Whoever the Hell Stanley Jenkins was, Alastor had killed him and used his blood instead. Smart actually, for the card comes with its own parameters…

And to the Sinners without a card? That was a bit trickier. Only a handful of obsidian calling cards were in circulation, and only cardholders could summon you at will. To the lower rung demons without the honor, they had to go through back channels. That’s what you used Rosie for. The Cannibal Queen knew all the best gossip in town, her network of information reached every edge of the Pentagram. She was your starting point for potential hits - you took care of the rest. 

“A toast,” Alastor holds his glass out to you. “To power and chaos.” 

You freeze.

The demon clinks his glass with yours.

You had not heard that phrase in a very long time. 

You look to the Radio Demon and watch as he sips his wine, the red liquid kissing his lips as he drinks.  

More importantly, where had he heard that phrase? 

And then it clicks. 

Lilith. You last heard that from Lilith. 

“It isn’t poisoned. I assure you,” Alastor purrs, bringing your thoughts back to the wine. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.” The demon chuckles.

You shudder at the sudden static vibrating through your bones. 

You put a pin in this conversation - a mental note. You had more homework to do. 

You swirl the red around the glass, noting the alcohol crystals sticking to the sides. It was an older wine, a heavier red by the color. The liquid wooed you in scents of dark berry, cloves, and cedar. You could taste the tannins on your tongue before the liquid even hit your teeth. God, was it a thick red, so dry it left your mouth parched for more. Alastor couldn’t see your face beneath the hood, but if he could, he would see the moan you stifled behind closed lips. 

God, it was almost Heavenly. 

“One of my more everyday favorites,” Alastor smiled at the world below, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of City lights. “Although, I have far better in my cellar.” 

In my cellar. Your ears perked up at that, although you tried to hide it, the twitch of Alastor’s lips told you he had noticed. The Radio Demon knew something about you now: you liked wine. 

Was that what this meeting was all about? He wanted to gather more information on the Shadow? The way he made it seem at Carmilla’s was that there was a deal to be made. He thought you two could benefit from some sort of… partnership. Yet, you sit here and drink. 

This wasn’t how your deals often went. Usually, you showed up, and Sinners demanded action straight away. They practically begged you for your help, all too eager to make a deal. Lesser demons were pathetic, demons thinking themselves anything more attempted to look strong or intimidating, but the second they saw your eyes, they cowered. You’d like to think it the same as Zestial’s situation but you didn’t dare compare yourself to someone as great as him. 

Alastor, however, sat before you as an entertainer, a flatterer, a narcissist obsessed with his image. He didn’t just want to make a deal with you - if he did at all - he wanted to put on a show. Offering you a drink and a lovely view of the City communicated to you that he didn’t see you as a threat, but you already knew that. The question then was, did he respect you, and why did it bother you so much not to know? 

You turned the bottle to read the label: Stag’s Leap. How fitting. 

“Have you read the Allegory of the Cave*?” Alastor posits. 

You nod. Of course, who hasn’t read Plato? 

“When the man leaves the cave and makes it to the surface and is finally disenchanted with the shadows below, why do you suppose he returns?” Alastor takes another sip, waiting for you to answer, because he genuinely cares as to what you have to say. 

“To free the two he left behind,” your voice growls. 

“Hmm,” he ponders. “I supposed that as well, but never understood. To have the power of knowledge and to then share it… To not take advantage when it benefited him so. I see it as a tragedy.”

“Perhaps it is the Humanity in all of us.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed. “And if there is no Humanity left?” 

“Return…” Your lips curled, “and kill the other two.” 

Alastor tipped his head back and laughed, a deep chuckle from his chest. No laugh track followed. Was that genuine? A real laugh from Alastor and not the façade of the Radio Demon. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest at the thought. 

Focus! 

“Alastor, why have you summoned me?” 

The Radio Demon’s lips faltered ever so slightly, his cheery attitude hardening. He thought a long moment before answering. “It seems we have found ourselves in quite the predicament.” He places the glass on the table and folds his fingers in his lap, his attention on the City below. Your eyes follow his, all the way to V Tower. 

Ah, yes Velvette and Vox. 

“Velvette can be quite the troublemaker.” 

“And Vox can be quite the thorn.” You counter, taking another sip. 

God, the wine was so good. 

“I have… information worth your while.” His teeth shined. 

“And in return?” 

“A quid-pro-quo. I have been gone a long time, but my relationships with those I am… close with have held strong. That is the perk of being as old as I am. I am tried and true. You are new blood, officially worth a seat at the table. That seat will be tested.” There was an edge to his words now. “Do not take Velvette’s silence for inaction.”

You did not. 

Yet, what could Alastor know that you have not yet uncovered yourself? After all, you have been watching them these past few days. Surely something would have come up by now. 

You scoffed, finding the underlying meaning in his words. “Is that what happened with Vox?” 

The Radio Demon stiffened. There it was, a hint of that barely contained anger. Oh, how you would love to see it unleashed.

You sniffed, searching for the scent of rage, of jasmine green tea - the main reason why you loved the drink. Yet there was nothing. Irritation prickled your skin. You have never been able to not read someone before. What made this Sinner so special? 

“That is what you want from this… partnership, is it not?” You prod, hoping he will give away something, anything that might clue you in as to why you are here. 

The demon returned to his wine, a muscle in his jaw flickering with agitation. He didn’t like appearing weak. 

Narcissist. 

“The plans I have in mind are far bigger than that poor excuse for an entertainment system.” 

You snorted. 

Alastor’s strained smile softened. 

Hmm, a quid-pro-quo, huh? Still, he hasn’t said what he wants out of this deal. 

You took another sip to think, noting your glass was already empty. 

The Radio Demon cleared his throat, wine bottle in hand, gesturing for your cup. His fingers brushed yours as you handed him the glass, sending a wave of static through to your core. You pulled back too fast, bringing your arm to your chest. The demon’s eyes gleamed in amusement. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You are not afraid of the Radio Demon, so why were you acting like an idiot? Never let your weaknesses show and you just gave him a clear indication that he intimidated you. You are a FUCKING OVERLORD. 

Why was this not easier with a mask on??? At the Hotel, you didn’t back down, but still, you let him think less of you. Not here. Here you are the fucking Shadow, you didn’t have to pretend. You had no reason to be so nervous. 

So why was the smile on his face and the look in his half-lidded eyes making your heart do backflips in your chest? Why was it when he handed the glass back you were conscious to not let your fingers touch his? Why were you so grateful for the space between you two yet also so, so irritated by it? 

“You still have not told me what you seek to gain.” You prayed your voice didn't sound as unnerved as you felt. 

His smile went cockeyed. “A mutual agreement. We stay out of each other’s way, yet seek out the other when we can benefit equally.” 

That didn’t sound like a partnership. That sounded like an alliance. Is this the same type of deal he had with Rosie? Interestingly, they seemed more like friends than something so surface-level as an alliance. Perhaps it started out that way and blossomed into one? 

The butterflies in your stomach kicked up in a flurry. The Radio Demon thought you were worth his time. Your cheeks heated. He thought you could help him - in some sort of capacity. God, why did that make you wanna squeal like a small child? 

“I will not be signing a contract,” you warned. 

Rosie informed you of Alastor’s contract crafting abilities. The demon was meticulous, bordering on obsessive when it came to exacting details. Line-by-line he would work and when it was finally done, the deal would appear flattering in what it would have to offer. Somehow, Alastor always made it seem like it was you who was the one to benefit. Yet, that was never the case. It was a trap, a beautifully disguised ploy which demoted you to a creature privy to his whim. Alastor was a master and the signee his pet - he would have it no other way. 

You’d die before you signed anything he authored. 

The demon laughed. Yet, underneath, there was a hint of irritation. “Oh, no. I did not expect that, I assure you. Ours will be one of a verbal agreement.” 

You let that marinate. He won’t be getting your name, but an agreement will still be made, and in Hell, that was a very powerful thing indeed. You’ve made plenty of verbal agreements before. Fuck, every hit you contracted was a verbal agreement - silence and the contractee’s soul in exchange for murder. The terms you set were quite simple, actually, yet strong enough to have kept any hint, any suspicion of who you are and how to find you, out of the mouths of Pentagram City’s most powerful. Yes, the media did try to track you down, even attempted to hunt you at one point, but they haven’t gotten very far. And they never will if you had anything to do with it…

You took a sip, letting the flavors melt off your tongue one final time, before standing and offering a hand. 

The demon’s eyes lit up with a crimson fire, his lips curling at the edges. He looked far too eager for this deal and that made you hesitate. 

Dealing with Alastor was like dancing - a dance you both pretended not to be leading but also refused to be the follower in. It was a game of power, you see. Yes, dancing had its steps and rules - a waltz is a waltz after all - but the direction it was going, the added flare to the spins, the story the choreography told - that was where you battled. Thus, you needed to be a half-step ahead of Alastor at all times - without him knowing, of course - until either the dance ended or you found a way to end him. 

The Radio Demon took your hand, and as you gazed into his eyes, you watched his pupils dilate. The glow of your yellow irises reflected in their dark center, an aura of red encircling your hooded form. A river of blue and green exploded from where your hands touched, twirling about you like the eye of a beautifully destructive hurricane.

The wind whipped Alastor’s hair about his face, his smile never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours as a connection snapped between the two of you. Like a thin string bridging your souls, you could, for a moment, feel Alastor on the other end, feel his static radiating from his core before the connection faded entirely.  

It was done. 

“A pleasure,” he purred. 

You attempted to step back and break away from his grasp, but the demon responded by clamping down and pulling you to him. You stumbled, your other hand coming to his chest to prevent your fall. The hood atop your head shifted back ever so slightly, but not enough to reveal your face or to give away anything underneath. 

The shadows engulfing your feet twirled and twirled about you, yet you remained frozen. Alastor was a solid wall of muscle beneath his suit; even with gloves on, you could feel the marble from which his chest was sculpted. You took a breath before you pulled your hand away before your brain finally caught up with the rest of you.

“Beautiful,” Alastor’s voice deepened. 

You dared a glance from beneath your hood and found the demon’s eyes locked on the silver embroidery of your cloak. With his other hand, he ghosted over the trim, his fingers tracing the hard edges of the stitching. Yet, at no point did he actually touch the black fabric. If he did, his fingers would phase through it, just as Velvette’s had at the meeting. 

Without saying anything, he dropped the grip on your fist, freeing you from his clutches. You stumbled backward, grasping your hood and pulling it forward to ensure it stayed in place. Alastor couldn’t remove it, but that little stunt he pulled almost ruined everything you had worked for. 

Your body grew cold as you backtracked to the railing, your little meeting coming to an end. You watched as Alastor’s grin turned into a lopsided smirk as he shoved his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly watching you flee.

Your instincts were screaming again, but this time, they were telling you not to let the demon out of your sight. 

Passing by the table, you noted the obsidian calling card. He would use it to summon you from here on out, but he would never be using his own blood. His real name would be made to you then, and he would never risk that. 

Take advantage of the power given, was what he recollected from Plato, and use it to slaughter others. 

“Velvette is using a third party to buy weapons from Carmilla Carmine,” the demon finally spoke, breaking the tension. He turned to the skyline, absentmindedly analyzing V Tower as he talked. “The female Vee, however, is not the fighter of the group, she leaves that to Vox and Valentino. Velvette destroys by reputation. She is not much to fear if armed, but if privy to certain information, she will use that to destroy her enemies.”

A.K.A do not let her find out who you are. 

You paused as your back hit the railing. You let your shadows build beneath your feet before you jumped in order to conceal your form as you flew. “Vox’s Angelic Security is in place but not online. It expands two blocks from V Tower. If anyone were to make a move, he would see it coming.” 

The Radio Demon nods. He pauses a moment before adding, “Carmilla killed the Angel.” 

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. How the Hell did he know that? 

“Carmilla is monitoring the Vees,” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed hold of the railing. “She doesn’t want them making a move against Heaven.” You needed to get away. This meeting was getting dangerous. Losing your cool and almost losing your hood in the span of minutes? You were never this sloppy. Alastor made you sloppy. 

“Interesting,” his voice stopped you again. 

You spun, raising an eyebrow in question. His lopsided smirk only grew. “You didn’t ask me how Carmilla killed the Angel.” 

Fuck. He knew. He knew you already knew. He didn’t have to look at you to see the surprise in your eyes, he had figured it out by your response alone. 

“Goodnight, Alastor,” you gave a shallow head bow before jumping off into the night, Alastor’s fucking grin following you into the sky. 

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It was late when you returned. You took a few extra spins about Pentagram City before heading back, trying to collect your thoughts on everything that had just happened. 

You had surmised two important things: One, Alastor’s absence wasn’t just about Lilith. The demon somehow knew Lilith. Perhaps it was because of her that he left in the first place. Which you already somewhat suspected, but this confirmed it. Two, Alastor wanted the Vees dealt with, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. 

A quid-pro-quo in taking out the Vees. Now, things were getting interesting. This didn’t derail your plans, however, little Ms. Morningstar was still heading in the direction you needed her to go for everything to work. You didn’t need the Vees for the endgame - you had other powers in your back pocket with far more influence than the three of them. Plus, the connections you were making at the Hotel were going swimmingly. Soon, not yet, but soon, you’d implement the next phase. 

Oh, if only Father could see you now - wherever the Hell he was. Did he fall to Hell or was he somehow topside? No. You’d know if he was down here with you. You’d feel it in your bones. Wherever he ended up, you were going to find him and you were going to make him suffer for everything he put you through. 

You weren’t just going to kill him - oh, no. He didn’t deserve a quick and clean death. It was going to be slow and torturous. You were going to make him feel every ounce of the pain he put you through and more. You’d take your time, after all; why rush? Hours, days, months, years; what use was putting a timeline to his punishment when it would never make up for what he did? No. You’d take your time pushing him to the edge, and when he was on the cusp of eternal darkness, you’d heal him and start all over again.   

Perhaps you did have a flair for murder like the Radio Demon. Your creative outlets were just significantly more specific - lying in wait for the perfect muse. 

Wrapping your fingers around the edge of the window pane, you quietly slipped inside. With a snap, your leather gear and cloak slipped into the Void, replaced with a silk pajama set: a tank top and shorts bordering on just too short. Scandalous, but you enjoyed burying yourself beneath layers of blankets while you slept. Any more clothing and you’d wake up sweating. 

Going for the bathroom, you turned on the light and paused. In the reflection of your mirror, you saw it: a red box wrapped in black ribbon. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Someone had been in your room. 

Hesitantly, you made your way before the coffee table and found a card perched atop the neatly wrapped bow. 

You leaned in and sniffed the package - Nifty. You were going to have to touch base with the Hotel cleaning lady after breakfast. From day one, you had made it quite clear - to her great disappointment - not to clean your room, let alone enter it. Perhaps you weren’t clear enough, for she felt it acceptable to leave this here as opposed to outside your door.

Doing a circle about the space, you inspected the sealing runes which kept certain individuals out, eyeing the shadows just in case. You had hidden the ancient magic in concealed places, even buying a rug to cover the one at the base of your door, and kept your most important things in your Void. It wasn’t the best place to store your leather and cloak - especially after the moth infestation a few years back - but it was a necessity at the moment. 

Then you went for the present. Pulling the black ribbon atop, you jumped back as the box split into fours, revealing a small radio. It was of a classic design and cathedral in shape, carved from mahogany and detailed in yellow and red. The device was simple, with only two buttons: an on-and-off switch and a volume dial. No tuning dial to change the channel? No chord to plug it in?

Fuck. How did he know? You racked your brain trying to figure out when and to whom you talked to regarding your sleepless nights. Rosie knew, but you hadn’t specifically discussed it with her lately. Did you say something to Husk in passing? To Angel while you were bitching at breakfast? 

Hesitantly, you turned on the device. A pleasant, smooth jazz echoed through the speaker: Paul Whiteman’s “Sleepy Time Down South.” Hilarious… The Radio Demon has a sense of humor. At least it wasn’t the screams of blood-curdling murder. 

After inspecting the radio three times over, you deemed it not a threat - although you kept it far away from your bed as you crawled beneath the sheets. With a snap of your fingers, the bathroom light turned off, plunging you into a cocoon of darkness, enveloped by the lullaby of sweet jazz…

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At some point in the night, you awoke, your mouth parched and throat dry.  

🎶 It’s not the pale moon that excites me 🎶

Alastor’s radio switches over to a new song, the music seeming to follow you as you make your way to the kitchen. The hallways were silent, the Hotel Natives snoozing away in the late hours of the night. 

🎶 That thrills and delights me 🎶

You pass by the library as a zip of static runs its way down your spine, stopping you in your tracks. Alastor stood before the fireplace, flames roaring in its hearth, casting an eerie glow throughout the room. The demon faces the fire, his attention on the crackle of the logs as they whittled away into ash. He was still dressed in his three piece suit you saw him in only hours ago, his ears pressed flat against his head in irritation. Something was bothering him. 

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

He pretended not to notice you standing there staring at him from the hallway, but his shadow didn't. It zipped around your feet, twirling about your ankles in greeting, before practically dragging you inside the room. And when it had you well within the confines of the space, it flew to the doors.

🎶 It isn’t your sweet conversation 🎶

The shadow slammed them shut. CLICK! Then locked them. 

You were trapped. 

🎶 That brings this sensation 🎶

Alastor tilts his head over his shoulder, his half-lidded eyes landing on you. The demon looked royally pissed. 

This was it, this was the moment.

Alastor had figured out who you are. Your hood had fallen farther than you thought and he had seen your face and put the pieces together. He knew you were the Shadow, the mysterious new Overlord, here to challenge his grab for Princess Morningstar’s power. 

And he was going to kill you for it. 

🎶 Oh, no. It’s just the nearness of you 🎶

You didn’t hesitate to summon your blue flames, preparing for a fight, yet he moved faster than your mind could comprehend. Between one blink and the next, Alastor appears before you, his hand wrapping around your throat so tight you choke on the lack of air. Grasping at his arm, you dig your claws into his skin, your demon form summoning, as you melt the red fabric with your flame. But he is unphased by the heat, pulling back and slamming you so hard into the wall that spiderwebs crack across the plaster. 

🎶 When you’re in my arms 🎶

You try to summon more flame to burn him down to the very core of his soul like you had done to thousands of Sinners before, but the blue fire does nothing to his skin. It singes the red fabric, turning it black, but his skin beneath is unharmed. 

Shit.

🎶 And I feel you so close to me 🎶

The demon leans in, a low growl emanating from his chest, his teeth glinting in the firelight as his eyes hone in on your neck. As the blood pumped through your jugular, you watched his pupils dilate and fixate on the vein. He was a Cannibal, a predator, a killer whittled down to pure instinct. Everything within him was screaming kill, kill, kill.

🎶 All my wildest dreams came true…🎶

Your lungs screamed as you choked out, “Alastor.” It was weak, barely a whisper, but it was enough to draw his gaze from your neck to your eyes. In his pupils, you saw yourself desperate and bordering on losing yourself to the darkness threatening to close in. Despite the fight you felt in your bones you looked terrified.

🎶 I need no soft lights to enchant me 🎶

His name slipping from your mouth, the quiver he saw in your lips, had cracked something within him.

🎶 If you would only grant me 🎶

His grip disappeared, allowing you a breath of air. 

🎶 The right to hold you ever so tight 🎶

You bent over, coughing onto the floor, sucking down breaths in gasps that make your eyes water. 

🎶And to feel in the night🎶

Standing, you held onto the broken wall, forcing yourself to stay on your feet, despite your knees threatening to collapse beneath you.

“Alastor, what the fuck…” And before you had a chance to finish your question, the demon wraps his claws around your chin and forcefully slams his lips into yours. 

🎶The nearness of you🎶

The kiss was anything but soft, anything but patient. The demon was hungry and starving, and only you could satiate his appetite.

His other hand presses your hip back against the wall as he kicks your legs apart, drawing a gasp from your lips. Alastor takes the opportunity to run his tongue across your bottom lip before snaking it into your mouth. His tongue finds yours, prodding, testing, tasting.  

He pushes you flush against the wall, his knee pressing higher and higher until it finds the pocket between your thighs, eliciting a gasp that turns into a moan as he pulls you onto him, forcing your clit in line with his leg. 

The demon smiles against your lips, finally releasing your chin to grab your waist, his fingers bunching in the thin material of your pajama bottoms. You take the opportunity to find the lapels of his jacket to give you something to grab onto as you arch into him, pulling him closer as you press your breasts into his chest. The demon growls, a deep rumble emanating from within as he bites down on your bottom lip. 

Copper floods your mouth, turning the kiss sweet, but for Alastor, it’s a frenzy. He was no longer satisfied with just tasting you. He had to devour you.  

The silky material of your pajamas was oh-so thin. No underwear or bra beneath them, you were practically naked as the tips of his claws sank into the meat of your hips, beads of red pebbling on your skin. 

God and the pain only added to the pleasure building between your legs, only made your head swim as his lips slid over yours, capturing every drop of scarlet flooding your mouth. 

The demon helps guide your hips as you ground your clit into his thigh, wetness seeping into the silky material before pooling onto his pants. The room flooded with the scent of warm vanilla.

This man had you soaked, had your lips dripping as you ground into him faster and faster, your pleasure building with each roll. Alastor finally released your mouth, his teeth finding your neck, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he teased. He ran his tongue along the dip of your collarbone, tracing it to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, before finally running it up to your ear.

You moaned when he took your lobe into his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth. Alastor instinctively rolled his hips, his cock tenting his pants, grinding on nothing but air. 

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. The friction wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed more of him to push yourself over the edge. 

“Al…” You breathed into his ear between moans, your fingers trailing down to the twitch in his pants, but stopping when you hit his belt. “Please…” You tugged.

The demon laughed, capturing your groans with his mouth before answering, “No.” 

You blinked. “No?”

The demon puts a hard stop to your hips, pausing your grinding and the build in your pleasure. He grabs your hand on his belt and captures two of your fingers in his mouth. Sucking with his lips, he circles your fingertips with his tongue, wetting them before guiding your hand back down to your clit. 

“I want to watch,” he smiles against your cheek before he wraps a finger under your chin and brings your face up to his. “Fuck yourself,” he commands. 

And you obeyed.   

Your two fingers find the apex of your pleasure beneath your shorts, and you moan, wetting your clit with his spit as you circle the bud.

You barely have to touch yourself, you’re already so close. 

Alastor does nothing to help, save for his gaze, save for his breath which matched yours. The demon’s eyes glittered with heat and desire as they bore into you. He could feel the pleasure radiating off of you, could feel it as real as you could feel his static on the other side of the bond you formed today. 

“Good girl,” he growled, his cock twitching in his pants with each moan that escaped your lips. 

“I’m close,” you whined, twirling your fingers faster and faster, feeling the pressure build between your legs. 

Alastor dug his claws into your skin, his gaze soaking up every look of pleasure on your face, his ears absorbing every moan, his cock hardening with every swipe of your fingers against yourself.

“Cum for me, darling.” The demon’s lips curled as he swiped the hair from your eyes, sticky with sweat. He wanted to watch as you sent yourself over the edge. He wanted to miss nothing.

And just as you reached your climax...

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...you wake up in bed, your screams of pleasure drawing you from sleep. 

Your orgasm spasmed through your body, your legs twitching as you rode the wave, your pussy clenching on nothing but air…

Fuck, it was the best orgasm you had ever had, nevermind that it was your first.

And when it was over and your mind sobered, you realized it was all a dream.

You never woke up for a glass of water.

You never found Alastor in the library. 

Grabbing a pillow, you launched it at the radio on the coffee table but missed by a mile. Burying your face in the sheets, you screamed. You screamed until your lungs burned because anything was better than acknowledging the truth.

Anything was better than acknowledging that you just had your very first wet dream, and it was of Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Muahahahaha! Remember it's a slow burn ;)

-> Chapter Six

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

*Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff

[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

i found two different typos and realized that i needed to change a few lines after i posted it the first time. so let’s try this again. if there are still typos this time, no there isn’t :) also i had to format this on mobile so if anything is off or weird, whoopsies

4402 words | Chapter Navigation

Chapter 3

Maggie’s leg bounces anxiously as she glances at the room around her. It’s oddly familiar - uncomfortably familiar - with its plain white walls and grey plastic chairs. A single clock sits on the wall, ticking away in the silence. While Magdalena has never been in this room, she’s almost certain that she’s been in a room like it before, even though she has no specific memory of it.

And it sets her on edge. She keeps her eyes trained on the only door to the room with the sinking feeling that someone is going to come through that door and try to attack her.

Anzurin sits next to her, just as still and silent as she is. He glances at her periodically, never for more than a few seconds at a time.

Just when Magdalena is beginning to feel like she wants to shred her own skin off just to rid herself of the uncomfortable feeling coursing through her, the door swings open, and Inessa comes through with a yellow-ish folder in her arms. She gives the two of them a tight-lipped smile and takes the chair on the other side of Anzurin. “Labs came back alright,” she says with an uneasy edge, “but I have some concerns about the x-rays.

Anzurin sits up straighter. “What kind of concerns? What is it?”

Inessa glances at Maggie, her gaze trailing from head to toe. “Fractures,” she answers. “A lot of them.” She opens up to the folder to reveal a stack of black and white pictures of bones, and Magdalena leans in to get a closer look. It’s a strange thing to look at her own bones, but she kind of likes it. “Some new, some old,” Inessa continues, pointing out all the little spots she circled with red ink. There’s a lot of red circles.

“What the fuck,” Anzurin murmurs. “That many? How is that even possible?”

She flips to an x-ray of Magdalena’s ribs, pointing at one spot that she circled multiple times. “This one’s new. Like… it happened today, new.”

Magdalena presses her hand to her ribs, where there’s still a slight ache, and she knows exactly what it’s from.

It seems Anzurin does too, grumbling, “Velur kicked her. I’d bet that’s from him. And if the rest of them are also from him…” He trails off, not bothering to finish his sentence, but it’s understood through the anger radiating from him. He sighs and shakes his head. “What else?”

“I think that’s the only recent one. At first glance, anyway – I can look at them closer later and also have some fresh eyes look them over. But some of these look like they healed slowly, while she was still human, but some of them healed quickly and out of place, after she was changed, and she wasn’t looked after. And they’re everywhere, sir. Her arms, legs, ribs, hands, feet. Even her face.”

“With this many breaks and fractures, it seems more like she was tortured to me,” Anzurin scoffs. He takes the folder from Inessa, flipping through the pictures while only spending a few seconds on each, and with each one he looks at, the creases between his brows get deeper. After sifting through all of them, he finally looks over at Magdalena, brandishing them at her. “What happened to you, Magdalena? Who did this to you?”

She has no memories of receiving any of those injuries, except for one of them, so she pokes at her ribs and says, “Velur.”

“That one, I don’t doubt,” Anzurin says, “but the ones you got before you were made? Who did those?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs.

Turning back to Inessa, Anzurin tells her, “Not right now, but before too long, I want a scan of her brain, or something. I want to know if her memory loss is completely due to whatever this other devilspawn did to her, or if some of it’s injury related.”

“She responded well to my tests; I don’t think she has any brain damage, and if she does, it’s minimal. I don’t think it’s the cause of her lapse in memory.”

“More than a lapse,” Anzurin grumbles, standing out of his seat. He holds a rosy-palmed hand out to Magdalena. “Now that we know you’re mostly okay, we should get that blood cleaned off of you. It might do us good to get some rest and revisit this later.”

Magdalena takes his hand without thought, her entire hand engulfed by his. The devilspawn she’s met so far have all been much larger than her. The top of her head barely reaches Anzurin’s shoulder, maybe just his collarbones. But she and Inessa are nearly the same size, Inessa only slightly taller.

She likes Inessa. Nothing about the woman makes her angry.

Anzurin leads her out of the empty, colorless waiting room, much to Magdalena’s relief. She hates that room. She hates how it makes her feel cold and trapped. The hallway outside is much better, painted a warm, sunshine yellow, art along the walls of green landscapes and colorful bouquets. Some of the weight on her chest stays behind in that room, and she doesn’t miss it.

As they walk side by side, Anzurin asks, “Do you have any memory of what happened to you?”

Magdalena shakes her head.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he sighs. “Do you have … any memories? At all?”

She has to think about that for a moment. “Today.”

“You only remember today? Nothing else?”

“My name,” she amends. She remembers her name.

“Well, at least you have that,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “Usually, fledglings stay in the dorms on the second level, but I’m going to put you in one of the rooms down here. Near my rooms. I’m appointing myself as your mentor, so that might be easiest for us.”

The rooms he leads her to next aren’t too far away from the medical wing, going back the way they came, towards the office Velur brought her to, but just before they reach the office, he turns them down a hallway to the left. It’s a dead-end hall, with four doors: one on the right, one at the end of the hall, and two on the left. He points first to the one on the right. “This one will lead back into the office. The one at the end goes into my personal rooms, this one is the bathroom, and then this will be your room.” He opens the door closest to them on the left, revealing a fully furnished bedroom, decorated much like the rest of the manor with warm-toned wood and deep reds.

Maggie’s attention is drawn first towards the bed, wanting nothing more than to go lay down in it. She starts towards it, but Anzurin tugs on her arm. “It’s probably best if you wash up before getting into bed, Magdalena. Though, then again, you don’t strike me as the type to mind sleeping in a puddle of blood. Come on. You have access to the bathroom through here.”

He leads her into the bathroom and shows her around, showing her where the towels are and the soaps, and he starts the shower for her before leaving her to herself to clean up.

Once alone, Maggie isn’t quite sure what to do. She stands in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the steaming water running out of the showerhead, and then she looks down at her own bloody clothes. Slowly and robotically, her body moving on its own accord as she’s barely present in her own skin, Magdalena undresses and steps under the water.

She flinches when it hits her head, but quickly relaxes as the warmth washes over her. Dropping her chin to her chest, she watches the water run off of her and down the drain, a deep red at first, and slowly fading through shades of pink before it finally begins to run clear.

Without using any of the soaps, she steps out of the shower, leaving the water running, and she returns to the bedroom, to Anzurin. He glances up when she opens the door, his already red cheeks darkening, eyes wide. He splutters for a moment, gaze trailing her entire body before finally spitting out, “I showed you where the towels are. Are you done? Do you need something?”

“Done,” she croaks and shivers. “Cold.”

Anzurin laughs awkwardly, dropping his gaze to his hands. “Yeah, I can see that.” Then he grabs a bundle of cloth next to him, walking towards her to hand them to her. “These should fit you.” She shadows behind him, the clothes in her hands, as he ventures past her and into the bathroom. He shuts off the water and then comes back to her and sniffs her head. “Did you actually wash, or just rinse the blood off?”

She shrugs, giving no verbal response.

He tugs his fingers through her wet and knotted hair. “You still have blood caked in here.” He takes the clothes from her and turns to set them on the counter. “Get back in the shower. We’ll at least get your hair clean.”

Maggie does as told, stepping back into the shower after Anzurin turns the water back on. She stands there, waiting while Anzurin picks two bottles out of the cabinet. He also grabs a large towel and a smaller one, and then carries the pile over to the shower. He hands all but the bigger towel to her, and she just holds onto them, unsure what to do as he returns to the vanity across the room.

He sets the towel on the counter, pausing there for a moment, and braces his hands on the counter as he looks into the large mirror in front of him. He doesn’t look at himself, though, instead staring at Magdalena.

Except, in the mirror, the shower is empty, and Magdalena is nowhere to be seen. She searches for her own reflection, but only sees two bottles and a hand towel floating in the air. She looks down at herself, needing to make sure that she actually has a body that she can see. And there is flesh when she looks. Scarred, discolored flesh, but it’s a body she can see and touch. It’s not gone like it seems to be in the mirror.

Heaving a deep sigh, Anzurin pulls a comb out of the drawer at his hip, and then comes into the shower with her, leaving his clothes on. He slides the glass door closed and takes the bottles from her to set them on a glass shelf to her left, but lets her keep the rag clenched in her hands.

Anzurin takes a bottle and pours a small dab of soap into his palm and then hesitantly reaches for Maggie’s head. She doesn’t move, allowing him to slide his fingers past her hairline, and a shiver runs down her spine when his nails scratch lightly across her scalp. Her eyes flutter closed and she sways on her feet, breathing in the flowery, soapy scent. It grows stronger as he lathers the soap in her dirty hair, working his fingers through the knots. She hums contentedly, and a ghost of a smile stretches across her lips.

When she opens her eyes, there’s a familiar man standing in front of her, grinning happily down at her. She studies his pale face, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar, searching his human eyes and their sky-blue color. Then he blinks, and his eyes flick to all black, covering even the whites of his eyes, and his grin grows threatening.

In a flash, Magdalena’s hand snaps out, pinning his wrist to the wall and sending suds flying in all directions. Her breathing comes heavier, chest heaving as she glares at him, fangs bared in a silent snarl.

But she steps back abruptly, releasing him once she realizes that it’s not the black-eyed, pale-faced man standing in front of her, but Anzurin, looking shocked and confused, red irises glowing in their black abyss.

Magdalena looks around, just as confused.

Where’d that man go?

She slides the glass door open, searching the bathroom for the man she just saw, ready to chase him into the next room if she has to, but Anzurin catches her hand just as she lurches for the door. He tugs her back, hands braced on her shoulders as she tries to twist around in search of the other guy.

“Magdalena, stop. What – what are you looking for?”

“Him,” she snarls.

“Who? Velur? It’s just you and me in here. Velur is long gone, Magdalena. Come on, come back. Let’s get your hair washed.”

She doesn’t know who it was, but it wasn’t Velur.

Still on edge, she allows him to guide her back under the water, but when his hands return to her hair, she doesn’t enjoy it like she did before. She stands there stiffly, unmoving and unblinking; she stares at Anzurin, making sure that the other man doesn’t take his place again.

She watches his every movement as he shampoos her hair twice and slathers conditioner into it. And more so as he drags the comb through it, over and over until it no longer snags, and she still hasn’t blinked but the time he’s rinsing her hair, stiff as a board while he takes the cloth and cleans behind her ears, and then, finally, he shuts the water off.

Anzurin steps out first and Magdalena numbly follows, both of them dripping water the entire way. He grabs the towel from the counter and wraps it around her, tucking it under her arms, and finally, after a long stretch of silence, he asks, “What was that? Who were you looking for?”

“The man.” Her gaze darts around the bathroom in search, just in case she missed him and he’s still lurking around the corner.

Anzurin also looks around. “What man? Velur? He’s not here.”

“Not him,” she grumbles.

“Then who? There’s no one else in here. Did you remember something?”

Oh. She hadn’t thought about that.

Pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, Magdalena tries to recall the man’s face. Was it only a memory? Was he not really there?

“Maybe,” she mutters. Still, she looks around to check one more time. Just to be sure.

Anzurin nods and steps back, pointing at the clothes he’d left on the counter by the sink. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

She does as told, unfolding the clothes to find a pair of loose fitting jeans and soft dark green shirt that has tiny little puffballs stuck all over it. She picks a few of them off before slipping the shirt on, and then the jeans - even though she doesn’t really like the feeling of denim on her skin - and then she just stands there to wait for Anzurin to return.

But after a few seconds, she steps in front of the large mirror and looks at herself.

At least, she tries to, but there’s no her in the reflection. Not even the clothes she’s wearing. Not a single part of herself is in the mirror, and it feels so odd to stare at a mirror but only see an empty room. She should see herself, shouldn’t she?

She can’t even remember what she looks like.

Magdalena grabs a chunk of her wet hair, pulling it in front of her face. “Red,” she murmurs, then touches the skin around her eyes. What color are they? She looks down at her body to study her fair skin, densely covered with freckles and paler than it should be, with little pink scars all over her visible skin. More than the fractures in her bones. She touches a few of them, running her fingertips over the rough bumps, and she tries to remember where they came from. They had to have come from somewhere.

Why can’t she remember anything?

Frustrated, Magdalena lashes out, letting loose a shriek at her not-reflection, begging that she remembers something, anything, and angry that she sees nothing when she looks in the mirror. She slams her hand into the traitorous glass with another wild shriek, sending shards flying in all directions and embedding into the palm of her hand. Her gaze becomes transfixed on her sliced skin, the red blood that drips to the white marble counter.

There’s a slight stinging pain in her hand, but not as much as she expects after slicing her hand over with many tiny shards of glass. She makes quick work of picking out the glass, then places her mouth around her sliced skin, lapping up her own blood. It has a strange bitter tang that she doesn’t much care for, but it’s not bad enough to deter her hunger.

The door flies open and Maggie whirls to find Anzurin standing there with a wild gaze that bounces between her and the broken mirror. He’s in dry clothes now – a black pair of trousers and a green and gold tunic - with his dark hair dripping water into his blazing red eyes.

Magdalena points her bloody hand at the broken mirror and barks one question: “Why?”

“Why what?” he snaps. “Why’d you just break my mirror? I don’t know! If I can’t even leave you alone for a minute, then we’re –”

“No!” she shouts at him. She points at what’s left of the mirror, at the fact that there’s no her. She pokes herself in the chest, then points at her fangs, and finally, jams her finger to her temple where she seems to have the most issues. Unable to find the words, she once again screams, “Why!”

A moment passes. And then two.

Anzurin’s face falls and his shoulders slump. “Oh,” he mutters, blinking as his shock and anger fizzles. He drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing before he lets out a bitter laugh that’s more of a scoff. “Shit. Right. Of course you’re angry. You should be. All of a sudden, you’re a starved and tortured fledgling with no memories.” He steps into the bathroom, closer to her but not yet approaching her. “Do you even know what you are? Do you know anything about vampires?”

She has a fundamental knowledge that comes flooding back when he says the word. She’s heard of vampires before – bloodthirsty night-crawlers, people that were once human and now have the urges of a monster, and the abilities of one, too. She knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, of a world in which humans and vampires exist together, and she knows that she was once part of it. She just can’t remember how exactly she fit into that world.

Magdalena points at her chest once again. “I’m not human.”

She doesn’t ask it, but Anzurin answers anyway. “No, not anymore, but you were once.” He ventures into the room and comes to join her at the vanity, shoes crunching on broken glass. He picks up the small rag that he’d used in the shower to clean the new blood off of her hand and arm and where she’d smeared it around her mouth. As he cleans her up, he tells her, “Brem is hopefully finding out whatever he can about your human life, something that I hope will help refresh your memory, but I suppose what you really need to know now is what you are.”

She gives a jerky nod. She knows of vampires, but not much about them.

“You’re a vampire, Magdalena. Well, a fledgling, right now. Not quite a vampire yet, but you’ll be there in a few months. You lost a good chunk of your time as a fledgling to … well, wherever you were.”

“Three months,” she says, remembering what they’d said when she’d been prodded earlier.

“That’s what we estimate, yes. Usually, the fledgling period can last anywhere from six to nine months.” He holds her chin gently, tilting her head up as he wipes the blood off of her lips. “You’re hungriest during this period, but it calms down gradually as you fully develop into a vampire. But, unfortunately, it seems to be that you’ve been starved, so you’re hungrier than most.”

Magdalena runs her tongue along the tips of her fangs, the taste of her own bitter blood still clinging to them. Her hunger isn’t so bad now, but it’s still a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, and she fears that it may never go away, no matter how much she drinks.

Anzurin drags the cloth along her chin and continues. “But being a vampire comes with a few quirks. Bloodthirst. Advanced senses along with healing, movement, and strength. You can’t …” He glances towards the shattered mirror. “You don’t have a reflection anymore. You can’t go in the sun. You don’t need regular food or water anymore - only blood. You’ll still sleep, but not as much. You won’t age, but your hair and nails and things still grow. There’s more than that, but you’ll learn it all as you go through your classes.”

“Hmm,” she grumbles, unhappy about what he’s saying, but unable to vocalize why.

Anzurin pauses, pulling back. “Hmm, what?”

She thinks about it for a moment before she just says, “Weird. Don’t like it.” She bumps his hand out of the way to poke at her fangs, hard enough that the point pierces her finger, which she quickly places on her tongue for the blood drop that escapes.

Anzurin turns to wring the cloth out in the glass-filled sink, a soft sigh passing through his lips. He turns back to her, lifting her chin to clean the underside of it. “Honestly, Magdalena, I’d change it for you if I could. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. You should have been brought here the day you were changed and taken care of properly. But we’re going to help you now, however we can. We’ll help you acclimate to vampirism and learn how to navigate this new life.”

Tired of having her face prodded, Magdalena pulls away from his touch. She drags the back of her hand across her mouth, and when it comes away clean, she deems it good enough.

Anzurin gets the message and tosses the cloth on the counter, but then he wraps his arm around her waist and lifts her. He does it so swiftly that she hardly has time to get mad about it before he’s setting her down again, away from the mess of glass on the ground. Without missing a beat, he turns and strides away, gesturing for her to follow him. “Usually, I’d assign another spawn to you, one of my appointed mentors, and they’d guide you and feed you and teach you, but I’m going to be your mentor instead. With what you’ve been through and the instincts you have, I think it’s best.”

Magdalena patters after him, bare feet tapping against the tile of the bathroom, and then the bedroom’s hardwood. She looks down at the delightful noise, a giggle bubbling in her chest. “Thwap, thwap, thwap,” she mimicks in a whisper.

Anzurin stops in the middle of the bedroom and turns back to her, his head tilted to the side. “Say something?”

She points her chin towards her feet, tapping her feet and repeating, “Thwap, thwap.”

Anzurin chuckles lightly and shakes his head. He brandishes a red hand towards the bed. “Alright. Well, this is where you’ll stay. I figured it might be time for some rest after today, and we can start fresh later. Maybe you’ll feel a little better after some rest.”

Will rest restore her memories? Will she know who she is by the time she wakes?

She feels like she could sleep, at least, so she starts towards the bed, trying to remember the last time she slept in one. The last time she slept at all. Flashes of blurry, fleeting memories brand the back of her eyelids when she blinks, memories of waking up on cold floors or in uncomfortable chairs, waking in agony.

Magdalena hesitates, stumbling back a step away from the bed. In an attempt to scrub away the memories, she grinds the heels of her hands in her eyes. Her head shakes back and forth, wet hair smacking off of her shoulders. “N-no, I – I don’t sleep there.”

Anzurin walks around in front of her, keeping his distance. “Where do you sleep, then?”

She looks around the room for an adequate spot then points towards an empty corner that looks spacious and cold. “There.”

A second passes. Two. Three. Four.

“I … I guess you can sleep on the floor if you want to, but you can sleep in the bed, too, Magdalena. It’s yours now. Everything in this room is yours.” He glances to the corner she had pointed out, staring at it for a few moments too long. “Is that where you’re used to sleeping?”

“Dunno,” she murmurs. “Feels right.”

“You can sleep in the bed,” he repeats, his voice dropping a level. Clearing his throat, he adds, “Go on, get some rest. I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything – just through the bathroom and the door on the other side. I want to trust that you’re fine to stay in here on your own, so please, when you wake up, just come get me. Don’t go anywhere else.”

Maggie looks towards the door that leads into the hallway, and she does in fact wonder what’s on the other side of it. Clearly there was more to the manor that she hasn’t seen yet, more than Anzurin’s office and the doctor’s wing.

But Anzurin grips her chin and points her gaze towards the bathroom. “No, go through there. Not out there. I don’t want you wandering around without me.”

Teeth bared, she jerks her chin out of his hold and snaps at his fingers, which he abruptly pulls away. He scowls at her for a moment, and she thinks that he might hit her for snapping at him, but ultimately, he just shakes his head and says once more. “Get some rest, Magdalena. Come get me when you wake up.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks through the bathroom to his own room, leaving her alone once more.

———

yay! chapter 3!! fun news, i’ve started putting together a fledgling handbook so we’ll see what happens with that! it’s been super fun and helpful i’m hammering out the details of fledgling stages :D

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[skele-bunny]

Memories. (CW) Phantom/Dew

CW: Talk of past slavery and abuse

Characters: Phantom, Dewdrop/Sodo

I wanted to do more with this, but brain dead tbh. Also trying out new formatting! Might not keep it but eh.

Read it under the cut or on AO3!

Dew turned his head as he stepped outside, eyes scanning the area before spotting his target sitting on the river dock, wings drooped. Sodo pushed himself forwards, hands in his pockets as he approached Phantom–tilting some to try and get a glimpse.

“Tommy?” He mumbled, watching as Phantom turned to meet his gaze.

He gave a slight smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Phantom turned back out to the water, fingers holding a small, heart-shaped rose quartz Aether had gifted him. Their mate had come back from town with bags of gifts for his pack, specifically giving Phantom a decorative bag full of crystals. Sodo didn't know much about quintessence purposes with crystals, but knew it was something sacred to their element. Something Phantom and Aether shared appreciations for. But when Phantom had gotten to the bottom where that heart laid, curled in wire to be a necklace– Phantom instantly seemed off. He played it off well, thanking Aether for the gift before excusing himself outside. Dew was simply sent to retrieve him for dinner.

“Got something on your mind?” Dew asked, moving to sit down next to his mate.

The bat simply shrugged, eyeing the gift again. “I guess, just…Memories, is all.”

Dew nodded, looking out at the water. “You know I'm here to talk if you ever need, right?”

“I know.”

A strange silence sat over them, Dew occasionally passing glances to his mate before going back to the shimmer of the water. It took a while longer before Phantom opened his mouth again.

“You know how I told you about my pit life, right?” He questioned, refusing eye contact and his ears turning red from shame.

“Yeah…” Dew's gut twisted. “You've told me.”

Phantom laughed at himself, shaking his head before tearing his eyes away from the heart. “My master, Albus, was weird as fuck. Besides the whole–you know, sex slave-forced mate thing…There were these times that I'd gaslight myself so hard that he actually loved me. That I wasn't just some…Prize and property.”

The fire ghoul kept himself quiet, looking over as his mate talked, his own expression holding sadness.

“Every month, he'd leave for a day while he went to our trading posts. He was always looked up at for casting knowledge, he was like a fucked up version of Special. Always knew how to alter the mind, conjure things others tried for years to do. He was so smart on ancient magick…But, anyways, he'd come back and always would have a little gift for me. Usually it was treats and more jewelry for me to wear, but every now and then he'd bring me crystals and wind chimes.”

He continued, “I think it was two years in when he gave me my first rose quartz. A-And I just remember looking at him with such a different view for the first time. I convinced myself so hard that he honestly did love me. I mean, the crystal should've proven that, right? I was just lost in my own delusion and-”

Tears started flowing, Phantom covering his mouth as he openly began to sob, shaking his head. Dew moved closer, placing his hand on Phantom's back and the other resting over the other that stayed on his lap. The pack leader gently pushed a comforting smell, Phantom inhaling sharply as he tried to calm himself.

“I-I mean fuck! That's how you court people in our culture, and he'd just…” Phantom lowered his head, his ears drooped. “I thought I loved him, too…In reality I just had stockholm and was so trauma bonded to this asshole. I'm just an idiot.”

The newly summon moved, leaning into Dewdrop's hold, being hugged tightly. They whined as Sodo began to gently brush down his back, trying to wipe his eyes and gather himself better. Sodo nuzzled closer, exhaling.

“I know how that feels. Being so lost in your abuse you think it's normal–you deserve it and they're doing it for a purpose. Doing it because they love you. Any type of affection was better than anything.” Dew mumbled, stroking more down Phantom's back. “You're not an idiot, bug. You were trying to survive.”

“Does it ever get better?” Phantom looked up, his eyes glossy and just pleading for answers.

For once, Dew was unsure. He simply held Phantom tighter, linking their tails together.

“I think it does. I still struggle a lot, I mean–Shit, Aether reminds me too much of my own tormentor sometimes. Sometimes I have to double take him especially when it's dark. It doesn't help that he and Mountain were around near the end of my abuse. Kept me on my toes that they'd been influenced to follow what ‘they’ did.”

“But I thought Aether was the one to help you out?”

“He was and still is.” Sodo shrugged. “Doesn't change that my mind still associates his entire body with what I experienced. Trauma is a really, really confusing thing. Aether pushed it in my head so many times that healing isn't linear. Even after eight years, I still have night terrors sometimes.”

“I'm upset over a stupid crystal-”

Dew cut him off. “Hey. You can't control triggers and flashbacks, as much as it sucks. You being upset is very justified. Your trigger isn't something that should be overlooked.”

Phantom looked down again, his thumb running over the silver wire wrapped around the heart. “I just… I wish I could associate it with something better. Aether gave this to me out of love and kindness.”

“Stop beating yourself up over this, bug. Associations take a while to change, and I'm sure if you give yourself just a little bit more time, you'll be able to accept it.” Dew pulled Phantom closer. “But, I really do think it gets better. I mean look how far you've come! You went from hiding under the tables to sneaking into our beds, dork…You're able to laugh, you're able to live. I think that's impressive with everything you've gone through.”

A gentle whine and purrs erupted, Phantom squeezing his mate tightly before moving up to butt their horns together. Dew cupped his cheeks, smiling and leaning forwards to kiss at his cheeks, scenting against his neck before lightly nipping his bond.

“This thing right here?” His tongue carefully went over the bond. “This is my promise to you, Tom'. The entire packs promise–That we'll never let you be hurt again…Do you believe that?”

“I do…” Phantom moved back a bit, looking down at the crystal before handing it over to Sodo. “Will you hold onto it for me until I'm ready?”

“Yeah…Yeah, I can do that.”

Taking the necklace, Sodo pocketed the item, and in return Phantom went right back into his arms. They sat quiet for a moment as their rumbles passed back and forth, Sodo poking his muzzle against Phantom's jawline.

“By the way, Mountain is making both pork and chicken empanadas.”

Phantom shot up, scrambling to his feet – almost knocking Dew into the water which earned an aggravated hiss.

“Why didn't you tell me that?! Come on! You know Swiss’ fat ass takes all of them!!” Phantom squealed more, grabbing Dew's wrist and dragging him to his feet.

“Alright, alright! Fuck!” Still, he couldn't help but laugh as he let Phantom drag him back towards the abbey.

[strawbubbysugar]

Coming off anon for this one cuz oh boy it’s theory time and I’m feeling very silly

(I just woke up at the time of writing so sorry for any typos, rambling, or confusion lol)

Alright! So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the existence of Eclipse and the theories popping up about them lately mainly: that Clipsey is a recycle of Moon’s broken body. Which I’ll touch up on first.

The issue that was presented with Moon by this definitely-not-at-all-suspicious engineer was that his processing unit was smashed and ‘unsalvageable’ (which we know to not be true), and aside from the obvious injuries cause by Trap, no major problems with Moon’s case are brought up. His *internals* were destroyed, aside from his battery which was reused.

Continuing forward, the SOMA comparisons. Reading through a plot synopsis of the game, I can’t help but link the destruction of Moon-man’s processing unit and Simon’s brain injury together a bit. Considering that that is the partial cause for Sun and Moon combining and the reason for Simon getting his brain scan copy. Both undergoing heavy ‘brain’ damaging and being brought to very odd circumstances because of it.

With the assumption that this is *actually* Moon’s body, “Uploaded into a modified corpse” is a *very* apt description for what Eclipse is. They’re a copy of someone (two people technically) inhabiting the dead body of the original, almost like Pry/ncess in a weird way.

That’s where the comparisons for the game and Bethroned end to my knowledge however, so time to move onto the more ‘looking too far into things’ section of my theory,

The design and color scheme!

Starting off, I noticed that the coloring of the Sun side on their face was reused from *post incident* which makes sense, that’s how Sun would’ve been seen last before running away with Pry/ncess, the eyes obviously match up as well.

Though the tops of the rays have noticeably sharper points to them if that’s anything at all, it’s impossible to draw the something the same way every single time after all so that can be easily written off.

The same can be said for Moon as well, the coloring of his face matches up with theirs, however his other features are… very much not intact. Very close but not quite.

The coloring and patterning of the hat is entirely different, the cape maintains the same coloring but the stars on Eclipse’s are much smaller and more faded than Moon’s as well.

What’s throwing me off though is the eyes, for both post incident and for Eclipse the right eye gained a black sclera, Moon’s pupil turned white, but Eclipse’s stayed red.

If Eclipses body was Moon’s then this could’ve happened naturally, the eye could’ve simply underwent the same damage/change as it did with Moon’s form in Sun’s body. Though do to this being his actual form the pupil could’ve kept its regular eye color.

Their lack of a mouth could also mean that they can’t speak, another drastic contrast in characterization to our boys. From the artwork we’ve been shone of them they see, cunning, clever, but very, VERY distressed. (Be a bit weird to consciously design eye-bags on your new king after all, right? That’s their own fault.)

And for my last point, their crown and the Opal.

This is the most obvious ‘combination’ in their design, it gets the rounded bottom of Sun’s and the gem formation and top shape of Moon’s. When overlayed on top of each other you also get similar colors to Eclipse’s crown, though more cleaned up and appealing on the eyes.

The gem in this crown has been confirmed to be an opal (if my memory serves me right I can’t find the post anywhere to confirm, tumblr search engine is bleh)

There were a few pieces of folklore and symbolism relating to the opal that I found particularly interesting with what little we know about Eclipse.

Mainly, it representing loyalty and goodluck as well as royalty. A lot of other interpretations I found pointed to it granting foresight and being responsible for prophecy, something you’d certainly want your king to have after the huge string of ‘bad luck’ that befell both of them.

Loyalty to prevent another incident like Sun choosing Pry/ncess over his kingdom and trusting them first, foresight and prophecy so that they can avoid incident like King Freddy dying and, well, Sun and Moon’s incident. and royalty is obvious.

Though the loyalty interpretation and foresight/intelligence can vary widely in intention depending on if Chica or PeePaw (maybe both, stares at Trap) is responsible for their existence. Cant speak that much on it before they’ve even appeared in the story.

Alright so what am I getting at with all this? Well, put simply, Eclipse’s design and name are very very intentional and combining the Princes was clearly in mind when they were (re)built by whoever their creator is. I believe that they attempted to program, be it from scratch with parts of Moon’s processor or with some kind of backup of Sun *somehow*, Sun into Moon’s body and combine their ai together in order to make a new heir.

Again, can’t find the message, but Eclipse’s existence was described as ‘decidedly uncomfortable’ which is very understandable if this were true, having you and your brother’s brain and memories COMPLETELY sewn together, not even with semi separate minds or personalities like with the actual Sun and Moon, would be very, VERY lacking in the ‘good for your mental health’ department, especially if you knew you aren’t the original ‘you’, just a clone, a do-over, a combination of two other failures that you need to clean the mess from up.

Put simply, I believe Eclipse is a combination of Sun and Moon, but not THE combination of Sun and Moon. If that makes any sense. They’re a replication of both placed inside Moon’s old body and used to fill the empty spot on the throne and potentially-maybe-hopefully-not help Afton.

Hands down my favourite ask ever. Like oh my god you did it. You got everything. You caught all the little secrets I put in and I’m flabbergasted. WOW. I AM. SO HAPPY HSFSG

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING SO SO SO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT AND ENERGY INTO THIS ANALYSIS BECAUSE I JUST. I MIGHT CRY. THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME SOBS :;;

[starliights-shining]

Is it possible for a shockwave with cybertronian reader who's a neutral/autobot and sneaks into the nemesis to visit him and hang out.

Of course its possible! You guys all seem to really like Shockwave. I mean who wouldn't like a big purple space robot who has no emotions and is a scientist. He kindaaaaaaaaa, I hope its okay if this takes place in TFP! anyways ENJOY :)

Pairings: TFP! Shockwave x Reader

Warnings: None,

You smiled, the nice feeling of the Nevada night air fanning your face plating every now and then. Your servo up in the air doing waves with the breeze. You sighed, optics scanning the sky looking for the familiar big ship, which seemed to not be in its usual spot. All you saw was the moon, casting down pale light onto rock formations and you.

It wasn’t until you stood up that you heard the buzzing of someone, Your optics finding them quickly. They seemed to be in a hurry, maybe that's where the Cons were. You could follow them, or you could just save your trip for next week, but knowing you hadn’t seen your scientific bot in a while, you decided to follow. Keeping your distances and sound down as much as you can, the Con seemed to lead you to a mining depo. Blue energon being moved from one spot to another and then up to the ship you have been looking for all night. Now all you had to do was get on the ship, which normal Neutral bots wouldn't do. 

You waited for a bit, watching to see any pattern, watching for anything that can get you on that ship without being detected. You watched as someone walked from their post by the entrance, leaving one of the side openings clear. You made your move, leaving the humid summer air for cold stale air and metal. The contrast between inside and outside this ship will always have you wondering, does Megatron just enjoy the smell of stale air and cold metal?

That might be the simple reason as to why you didn’t join the cons. Maybe it was just because they were boring and evil, who knows. The only thing you knew for sure was your dislike for both Decepitcons and Autobots, their constant need to bicker like siblings. Cons had high egos and Bots had the urge to always be a hero, Which made things worse. Pick a side is what everyone you knew did, except for you, Running from your home planet just to get away from a fighting that didn’t settle with you, too bad you're now sneaking in and out of Decepticon bases just to see someone. 

You were on autopilot, pedes caring you around corners and into shadows as you made your way to a lab. The sound of a swooshing door breaking you from that trance, the back of the mech you have been looking for coming into view. He was working on something, servos deep in some contraption as he worked, not turning around to see who was there to bother him. 

“Shock, Whatcha been up to big guy!”

He still didn’t turn around, servos still deep in whatever he was working on. It wasn’t until you walked next to him, leaning on the table he worked on did he finally stop and look up at you. His optic glowing and casting a small red glow on you, you simply smiled. It was almost like he wasn’t expecting you to be there, but he was at the same time. He simply passed something to you, inviting you to join him in doing whatever he was doing. You joined him, taking the time to talk about with him or just enjoy the silence.  

“I still thought it was pretty weird they said that. I mean, yeah join whoever you want but don’t bring me into it.” 

You had just finished telling him about some random story, when your optics started scanning the lab, its familiarity but also unfamiliarity seemed to finally strike you. Each time you come back there’s something new. Either a body part, or some random devices that range in sizes. You didn’t bother asking what they did, larger ones probably being some sort of torture device, and smaller ones being bombs or spyware. 

The night went by quickly, catching him up on what's going on in your oh so boring and neutral life. You spoke about everything, simply because you missed him. You missed his presence, he may not talk all that much with you, but it was enough. He didn’t seem to mind that you talked as much as you did either, you seemed to be the background noise he needed. While he was the listener you needed, and that's why your relationship worked so well. You helped him when he needed it and he provided support if you needed it. A rock, a rock in a war that keeps trying to take over your life, a rock that just so happens to be on a difficult side of the war. 

Your time was coming to an end, the sound of the lab door swooshing was loud, louder than it should be. You ducked behind the table, the sound of footsteps and then a grading voice. 

“Shockwave,” 

You recognized the voice, Starscream. 

“Lord Megatron is looking for you. You should hurry, Shockwave.” 

“A logical conclusion, Starscream.” 

It went quiet, Starscream didn’t leave immediately, instead opted to stand and look around. Red optics scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary, until he spoke. 

“I could have sworn I heard someone else talking in here.” 

He paused, servos interlocked behind his back as he stared at Shockwave, waiting, watching, listening, but he heard nothing. Just the whirling of whatever gadget Shockwave had running and the air system running through the Nemesis. 

“Be ashamed if you were hiding someone, Lord Megatron would not take kindly to such betrayal.” 

You heard his footsteps retreat, the door swooshing open. You swiftly stood up, recognizing your time is up, it’ll be a while before you can see Shockwave again, since Starscream seems to be catching on. 

“Alright Shock, I guess times up. I’ll see you around the big guy!” 

Never saying goodbye, never allowing for the universe to recognise your farewells. You finally took your leave, the door swooshing like always as you retreat back into the humid desert air, and away from the large ship. A simple thought on your processor, Until next time Shockwave.

[act-nat-ural]

Occupied

Prologue

(idk if posting on my phone makes the format look weird but if so please lmk. If you want to be added to the taglist lmk also!)

chapter 1

You stroll into the small diner as if you have been there hundreds of times, due to the fact because you have. It is your first and only choice of a lunch date location with your dear friend, Eliza. You would say it is because it’s because it has the best food and the desserts are to die for, but it’s really because of how affordable it is. Despite the food being subpar, the diner is still very cozy and the waitstaff is friendly whenever you dine there. The place isn’t very busy today, with only an elderly couple and a young lady studying in the right corner being the other people.

You hardly need to scan the room before you see her in the far left corner, sipping quietly on her latte. You grin at the sight of the back of her unruly blonde hair and as quietly as possible, creep over to her. As you get closer you notice she has her headphones on, blinding her to any noise approaching her.

Perfect.

A hand quickly grasps her shoulder and she curses loudly, accidentally spilling a bit of her drink onto the table.

“Shit! Why! Why did you do that?”

You giggle and slide into the booth across from her, grabbing napkins and cleaning as you go.

“You make it easy,” you respond nonchalantly.

“No, you’re just a fucking ninja.”

“I don’t need to be a ninja to sneak up on someone who is making themselves deaf.” You respond eyebrow raised. She rolls her eyes and shrugs off her headphones. “So, what did you want to tell me about?” you question.

“What, no greetings? Hi, how are you, my darling friend?”

“I think we are beyond that point if we’re being honest. Besides, we were on the phone on my drive over here.”

“What I wanted to talk to you about was-“

Moving on then, I see.

“-you do not have to pay rent during your trip next week.”

You pause, interest immediately piqued. This could go one of two ways. One, the most probable answer, she has come up with one of her outlandish plans that we both know hold no real meaning to them, just to entertain you. Or, there’s a small chance it could be option two. She actually has found a valid, soundproof way to save you hundreds on hotel fees.

“… I’m listening.”

“I knew you would be,” She quips with a cheeky smile. “So you know my totally loser brother? The one who lives in England?”

Ah, yes. Adam. Her weirdo brother who chose to make bombs as a career. Not the most friendly or stable man you’ve met, but hey family is family.

“Don’t tell me you want me to stay with him. I think I would rather get shot down in a plane than have to converse with him for longer than an hour.” You groan and rest your face into your hands.

“Nooo, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemies. Yuck. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, he’s going out of the country for a month or so, to Germany. Sooo…?”

“...So? I don’t see how this correlates.”

“Seriously?! You can stay at his place while he’s gone. Duh!”

“Hmmm… no.”

“Wha- no!? You can’t just say no! I already told him you would.“ Eliza starts raising her voice, accidentally attracting the attention of the student in the other corner. The lovely elderly couple either don’t notice or don’t seem to mind.

“Why in the WORLD would you do that? And lower your voice!”

“Because he wanted me to house-sit for him, and what’s the difference between me and you sitting in an empty cabin for a few weeks? Plus, not only is it not costing you money, you get PAID to stay there.”

Damn. She’s got you there. You sigh and rub your temples, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Okay, let me get this straight. I can just fly over there, live in your brother's cabin for up to a MONTH, for FREE, and get paid to do it. But he thinks it’s you staying there?”

“Yeah, but I mean a body’s a body,” she shrugs.

“Huh. I don’t know, Liz. This feels weird. “

“It’s not weird, I swear. I wouldn’t put you in a weird situation and we both know it. “

She does have a point, but you can’t shake the feeling that something unexpected is going to occur during your stay. Still, that could just be the nerves getting to you. This could be a really fun opportunity! You get to lay back and enjoy the nice open countryside, all by your lonesome.

“Okay, say it hypothetically agree. Where would I get a key to his place?” you question. “It seems suspicious to ask him to copy a key for me to use.”

“Just use mine. I had one made during my last stay, I’m pretty sure he knows about it. Like, 87 percent sure.”

You sigh. You can’t comprehend that she had a plan that made logical sense, let alone convinced you to go along with it.

“Okay. I’ll stay there.”

Yes! Let’s fucking go! We are going somewhere nice to dinner with the house-sitting money, by the way. “

You just smile and shake your head in return.

———

The day of your trip finally arrives and everything is going relatively smoothly. Although you about had 5 heart attacks every time you couldn’t feel your passport in your pocket, you landed in one piece. The flight was long and boring, but you had Chappell Roan and Podcasts downloaded to listen to. The drunk guy sitting next to you did end up spilling water on you, of course. Just your luck.

Nonetheless, your mood was sky-high. Months of planning and preparation have gone into this, and it better be everything you expected and more. Or else some tea is going in the damn harbor. You decided against using transport services mainly because of how remote Adam’s cabin was, it would be extremely tedious just to get a ride to go grocery shopping. Instead, you went with renting a vehicle. Sure, you initially entered the wrong side of the car and almost caused an accident or two, but hey! Nobody’s perfect.

You finally, FINALLY, pull into the small gravel driveway. There are hardly any neighbors around, the closest probably being a mile or two away, so you don’t feel self-conscious about your parking job. You inspect the cabin as you heave your luggage out of the car and onto the front porch.

It was a fairly large log cabin with a second story and a garden in the back. There were hardly any cobwebs on the porch, and the cabin looked well taken care of. The garden seemed to have a selection of different vegetables, but not any flowers. Figures, Adam was the kind to say taking care of flowers was a waste of time and energy. As you put Eliza’s spare key into the door knob, you felt a rush of excitement. You couldn’t wait to just do whatever you want for a few weeks. You turn the key and push the door open.

[hotwaterandmilk]

Just another one of those posts where I do a bit of a general update on a few things. This time opening with an edited scan of Maomao from Nekokurage's Kusuriya no Hitorigoto manga adaptation to get your attention. Boo!

I've been reading the Kusuriya no Hitorigoto light novels and enjoying them in the sense that I think preteen me would have liked them. I started reading the LNs earlier this year (as they're great for reading in waiting rooms and the like thanks to their short format) and I think the LNs are definitely my preferred version of the story. The anime has a nice OP theme but is fairly middling otherwise and I don't go much on the art in either mang adaptation (though Nekokurage's art has improved recently and Maomao looks less like a giant-headed baby doll in the Animate bonus cards per my scan above). Maomao is the real draw in all versions so obviously I preordered her Nendo the first moment I could — bring on May 2024!

Speaking of translated light novels you can buy right now, the first part of the Oguni no Koushaku Reijō wa Tekikoku nite Kakusei Suru light novel was just released as A Young Lady Finds Her True Calling Living with the Enemy Volume #1 by Cross Infinite World (see here). It's a solid story that doesn't overstay its welcome and Bertine's business acumen is just *chefs kiss* for those after a competent heroine.

Once the second and final part of this is out, I'd love to see Cross Infinite World pick up another short (but unrelated) PASH! Books publication, Shiitagerareta Shuusai Reijou to Ringoku no Haraguro Kenkyuusha-sama no Amayaka na Yakusou Jikkenshitsu. The web novel version was quite solid but I haven't read the printed version yet. Yeah I like science ladies, what can I say? It would be so good to keep seeing interesting titles for girls and women being picked up for English release because I tire of isekai villainess stories (which imho peaked years ago with Watashi no Oshi wa Akuyaku Reijou) and there are some great little tales out there that do things a bit differently & just need to be shown to the right audience.

I'm so excited for Metallic Rouge in early January! While it used to be that getting an original property from BONES was always exciting, it has been a while since they've created anything I've really cared about but I'm hoping this will break the drought. If a show has Izubuchi, Kawamoto, Yamada contributing then you know I've got to be there. Plus a couple of lady leads in a SF setting? Trailers with some great action and music? I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much but I'm keen to give it a shot. If it isn't for me at least I can say I've given it a chance, right?

I've been terrible at sharing the latest about this year's Silent Möbius anniversary, but I'm not a news blogger and frankly very few people care so eh y'know, whatever. BUT I figured I should say something about FAIRYTALE PARFUM releasing scents for the key members of AMP this month (though Mana has been totally forgotten, it seems). You can check out the range here, there will be a launch event on the 10th of December in Shinjuku too.

Asamiya drew new artwork for the bottles and while I'd love to get Kiddy's perfume that nods towards her bodily acceptance in its notes, importing that stuff is just too much of a pain so I've settled for a tiny acrylic stand of Kiddy instead. Sadly there's no option to buy a set of stands so I just went "whatever" and grabbed just my best girl. Anyway, if you'd like a tiny acrylic stand of an AMP girl with extra weird proportions then make sure you check out the FAIRYTALE PARFUM website.

[secretaccountlol]

“Photos are the window to the soul”

Dude, I haven’t posted in so long I forgot how to even Format my writing.

I apologize for my hiatus I hit a bad artblock, but I dug up a old wip I felt like y’all would like, since I’ve influx of this trope coming in the Peter fics lately it’s a lil short though (I wanted to make it longer but couldn’t get anything to stick) but I hope it still satisfies you.

18+ no minors please!!

Insecure? Reader x Peter!

Cw: photo taking during sexy time (consent given), brief talk of voyeurism (Peter lil stalker habits) , spanking, sir kink, talks of body image hating, insecurities etc. as always typos probably

Uhm enjoy! (If you did please repost or comment)

“Peter, please” Your hands shield your face from his camera as he tries to dodge around to get a peak of your face through the slivers of space between your fingers. This was a daily occurrence, Peter taking pictures of you, well trying to at least, it wasn’t like you hated it, more like you hated yourself. Okay, Hated was extreme but you weren’t fond of looking at pictures of yourself. Something about it made you feel so strange about yourself; it was like you could see every insecurity multiplied by 10, which is a bad combo when one, your boyfriend literally works at the daily bugle, and two, loves taking photos of you.

“Baby, please. I need a new pic of you!” Your doe-eyed boyfriend pouted as his camera dropped to his side, as you giggled. “Oh for your stash?” you rubbed your nose as a panicked look swarmed Peter’s face. “I- what? No. I don’t have a stash-? I mean unless having pictures of your girlfriends is weird, I mean I don’t think it’s weird! Hahah-“ Peter rambled as you stared at him Incredulous. “Peter, it's okay I know you have a drawer full of pictures of me already. Including those stalker pictures, you took of me while you were being the masked vigilante, Spi-” you stop leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Spiderman.” you grin as you study his flustered face, you weren't often confident but when you were it drove him crazy, you could see the gears in peter’s head twist and bend trying to decide what he could quip next. “I- well. Uhm..w-” Peter’s words stumbled out as his breath hitched.

“It's okay, I thought it was hot.” you shrugged. “Plus not like we weren't dating already, you were just following to protect me, right?” you kiss his cheek as he nodded, you chortle. “You okay there, Parker? Cat got your tongue?” you tap his chin, waking him up from his shocked state.

“God, You- man I love you.” Peter’s hands wrap around your waist. “You just made me… So horny.” you could see his eyes dilate as they scanned your countenance. “Can..I-?” His hands shift, sliding you closer to him.

You grinned again, “Peter, Of course.” Peter’s lips push onto yours in a sweet kiss.

“Hey! Consent is desirable baby, haven't you heard?” Peter's eyes crinkled in delight as you smile. He tilted his head,

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

You both skip to the bedroom hand in hand.

—-

“Peter” you huff as his hands play with the hem of your shirt. “Mm, tell me baby, do you like this shirt?” Peter's voice was steady as his eyes looked at yours with desire. Your pants have already been discarded somewhere, “I can do without it” you smirk, his hands instantly rip through your shirt earning a gasp. “Mm, black lace? My favorite. You planned this didn’t you minx” you laugh at his comment. “Mm, I did, didn’t I?” You kick your feet, blushing, your confidence was wearing off as you covered your chest, looking away.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Peter's hands held your arms gently as he tried to look you in the eyes.

“I-uhm nothing. It’s nothing, just a little insecure.” Your voice was light as Peter frown took shape. “I- still wanna have sex, Pete.” You glance at him as he gently kisses your forehead.

“Okay, lay down for me, love.” you obey his command , moving around trying to get comfy as Peter removes his clothing. “You're gorgeous, y’know?” you stare at his back, tracing the scars with your eyes. “I'm serious, babe. I love you, your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your personality, and your body. Everything.” his eyes met yours with passion, you could feel yourself tearing up.

You mumbled his name as he gently tenderly kissed you, throwing his leg over your sides, your eyes close

taut as you take in his breath. “I’m gonna make sure you know by the end of this, sweetheart.” His voice against your lips made you shiver as you heard a camera click and your eyes flew open. “Peter?” your boyfriend stood tall over you as he checked his camera beaming at the picture. “You look radiant, baby.” he turns the camera so you can look at yourself but you instantly shut your eyes again, you hear Peter groan. “I-i don't wanna see, Pete!”

“Why not?”

“Bec-”

“Because what!”

“Because I feel ugly!”

There's a pause before you open your eyes to peek at him, his ocher eyes were full of heartache. “Baby.”

“It- I.. Just when I look at myself in pictures I just feel like you can see every little imperfection I have..” you pause again

“I’m sorry, I- ruined the mood. “ you lift yourself up before Peter presses you back down.

“No, you didn't. In fact, I have an idea, Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you, Parker.”

“Good, cus we’re gonna do some exposure therapy”

Before you could doubt him, another snap of his camera. “Haha, you look too cute in this one.”

His smile made you grin wide, as you uttered his name. His free hand traveled down to your chest, groping your breast softly, your eyes fluttered, another click. “I'm glad I finally get to immortalize this beautiful body.” you groan. “Peter, please I'm no-” a smack cuts the air as you gasp as your ass stings.

“Talk shit bout yourself again and you'll get another spanking. Understand?” The sternness in his voice caught you off guard as you nod. You and Peter weren't new to trying new stuff in the bedroom, but this is the first time you’ve actually roleplayed, you bit your lip in eagerness.

“Y-yes sir, sorry sir.” you tilt your head down in fake shame. “T-teach me how to..love myself sir...” Your hands glide against his chest, as you try to sit up again, Peter’s hands shove you down again. “Mm, you're stubborn, baby. Course I'll help ya, but you have to be a good girl and stay put, okay?” Peter’s voice infected your brain with a ripple of pleasure as you nod eagerly.

“Yes sir.” His eyes connected to yours, with fire his lip bitten in anticipation. His eyes finally tear away from you as he grabs his phone from the bedside table.

“Do you know what this is, sweetheart?” his head tilted in question. You nod, “Yes, it’s a phone, sir.” You look at the phone curiously before staring at Peter.

“Good girl, so smart. Now, you know what phones do right? They take pictures and videos.” Peter’s eyes hang low as your eyebrows knit in concentration.

“You see, I don't always have my camera with me. This means I can't always see the pictures I've taken of you. Get it?” he lets the cold corner of the phone glide on your skin, tracing the curves of your breast. “So, I'm thinking I should take more..pictures, for the road. Would you like that, darling?” You smile as you see his tongue peek out behind his teeth.

“Yes, yes I would sir.” You chuckled, “Please, sir is my father’s name, Call me spiderman.” You and Peter shared a mischievous smirk. “Mm, okay Spidey. My boyfriend probably won't like knowing you have pictures of me on your phone.” Your head tilted, taunting him.

“Oh? But he doesn't have to know, does he?” Peter’s hands grip your chin gently. “Plus I'm sure he doesn't mind sharing.” you nod at his statement before Peter bends down to capture your lips. His hand travels down to your panties, snapping the waistband making you giggle. His fingers pick at your lacey panties before

Plunging his hands into your panties, circling your clit as you whine into his mouth.

“I love hearin’ you..' ' his freehand effortlessly pulls down your panties as the other makes long strides up and down your slit, the noises you make were pornographic, you use to be embarrassed, and sometimes still are to moan but Peter snubbed that out a long time ago.

“Oh, I’ve gotta get this on video.” Your eyes watch as Peter fiddled with his phone before his bright flash blinded you for a second before you could make out his shit-eating grin as your face felt hot. “Sorry about the flashbang, darling. But I gotta make sure I can see that pretty Lil face on camera, right?” his other hand tilts your chin towards the camera before panning down your body, making you shiver. “God, just.. So wonderful. Your boyfriend is a lucky man, y’know?” Peter’s thumb stroked your clit as he spoke, “N-no I'm a lucky..wom-!” you buck up, groaning as his fingers slide into your hole without warning.

“Pete-ah!.” Peter tsked, slapping your clit making you jolt, “It’s Spider-Man, remember?” He tapped your lips softly before he slid down to your pussy.

“Now look.at.this..You’re so wet. All for me?” His fingers found your hole once again.

“Yes! Yes! Mm all for you, Spider-Man!” You cover your eyes as you see the light flash on your bare pussy. “Your cunt makes so many pretty noises, I hope they show up on video.” Peter's voice breaks the silence, “I wanna hear more pretty sounds from someone else, though.” Your eyes close tight as you feel his breath on your neck.

“Come on, pretty baby, let it out.” His fingers pick up speed as you feel the warmth of the flash on your face as it contorts in pleasure. “Spider- I’m- I can’t..” your breath quickens as your back arches, “Oh-! I-im..!” Your hand grabs his wrist, his fingers curl into you, you whimper, your eyes close as you throw your head as you cum.

Your breaths are shallow as you come down from your high. Peter’s kisses bruise your skin as you groan, “Mmm-, that was … good.”

“Just good? Spider-Man doesn’t do just good, babe.” you giggle as you watch Pete’s eyes furrow in fake anger, “Perhaps you can show me how great, amazing, or even Spectacular you are then, hm?”

You laugh as Peter pulls you into another kiss.



[solradguy]

Hey Sol! I remember quite a while ago, someone asked you about how to get into archiving stuff and you answered with a little guide of sorts of useful programs/websites/etc.

Do you still have that guide up? Is there somewhere I can learn more in-depth about how to begin archiving too?

Tumblr search is failing me and I can't find that post now... So! I'll type it again. Lately I've been thinking about writing some kind of "archivist's manifesto" type thing for my Neocities in an effort to hype people up about archiving and to guide them on how to do it. When I write that up I'll post it here too.

Here's a big post I wrote on how to scan books and where to upload them (this is also linked in the big GG masterpost that's in my pinned): https://solradguy.tumblr.com/post/722512206034501632/sol-radguy-scanning-guide

That guide also has some tips on photo editing that may be useful for non-book scanning stuff, like some free program alternatives.

I've tried finding professional guides on how to archive media but most of them are written for people looking to archive family photos/things and not web media or physical books. None of them have been very helpful, honestly. One thing they recommend doing that I think IS helpful though is the rule of 3: Keep 3 copies of an archive somewhere. A physical hard drive, cloud storage, a second hard drive stored separately from the first (in case of accidents/hardware failure), uploaded to separate file hosts, and printing new physical copies are some. Doing any 3 of those is highly recommended. I do the two hard drives and cloud storage/file hosts ones. My hosts are generally Archive.org, Neocities, and Google Drive.

Be very careful about trusting image hosting sites with valuable scan data because they come and go like the wind. Photobucket, Tinypic, Imageshack... They're either dead or require a premium to host files now, which doesn't help hobby archivists at all. Imgur's demise is on the horizon. It's just the way it goes with these due to how expensive and space-consuming image hosting is.

Absolutely 1000% do not ever use just Discord for archiving/hosting things. Nothing on that platform can be backed up easily or with automation, and the guys that run it have already made weird choices the community didn't want while also putting more and more things behind the Nitro paywall. I suspect they're going to kneecap image and file hosting some day soon, too.

For archiving someone else's files, something that helps greatly (if it can be done) is either including the source of the file in the file's name or writing a separate document with the sources and whatever other additional information there is.

Here's a basic example of some Sol images from my Sol folder:

The first two are from the Counterside collab event and then the second two are official art but the file names are descriptive and it saves time sourcing them for things later. For archiving fan art/fiction, the filename is a good place to put the artist credit. Something like [Artwork Title]-[Artist Name]-[Original File Creation Date].format ("Sol Badguy Missing Link - Daisuke Ishiwatari - May 14 1998.jpg," or however you wanna organize the folder) works good.

Windows 11 didn't like working with Japanese text in file names for some of the Vastedge stuff I archived and I had to translate/romanize them. If you can't read Japanese/source's language, just do your best (number them instead?) and include the native language text in a .TXT file if possible.

A more complex example from the Vastedge .TXT doc:

The Vastedge materials archive is pretty dense and had a lot of contributors so the first half of the .TXT document's just credits for who did what. This is useful for if something gets lost because we'll know who to go bother about it. Among other things.

The next section is a long stack of details about the files themselves. I won't paste the whole thing here, it's pretty long. It covers how the archive came to be, issues with some of the files, how the files were obtained, and some other stuff:

The last half of the .TXT doc is a listing of the folder contents. I included this for quick reference and because sometimes archives get fractured by people only reuploading certain parts of it. Future archivists or anyone else going through this archive now have a list of what should be in there and will know if something is missing.

Archive.org/Wayback Machine has a browser extension for quickly archiving webpages. I have that and WebP / Avif Image Converter by Nullbrains (Chrome, might be on Firefox?) installed to quickly archive pages and convert image files as I save them.

In summary:

Upload/store things in multiple places

Include credits wherever you can, however is easiest for you

Try to keep files in the most widely compatible formats (jpg, gif, bmp, png, tiff, mp3, mp4, txt, pdf, flac, etc). Google's .DOC, Clip Studio Paint's .CLIP, and similar file formats meant for a specific piece of software may not be supported in the future.

A bad/incomplete archive is better than no archive at all. Consider how exciting Sappho poetry fragments are compared to what it would be like if we didn't have anything. Don't worry about making it "perfect."

Hope that helps some!! I'll try to write the manifesto for my NC soon

[slasherlaurie]

Hiii hello I saw that you were going to write for the Skull Merchant! If it's okay, could I request some headcanons or writings? SFW or NSFW, whatever is fine, we appreciate any and all content!

ofc love! this post is like a fic but written in dot points so pls forgive me for the weird format 😭 also i've divided this into two parts because it got way too long in one post, the second part will be posted sometime later in the week <33

warnings: typical Adriana behavior, unexpected makeout, nothing much else!

When The Skull Merchant arrived in the fog, she quickly found you were the only survivor who provided her with a real challenge. She immediately took a liking to you.

In trials together, she won’t even think about chasing you until all of your teammates are dead, then she lets the real chase begin. Until you die or escape, you’re stuck in the killer’s personal game of cat and mouse.

This goes on for months, coming to a climax in one trial where your allies are long dead, yet you’ve managed to avoid your pursuer so far. She’s getting frustrated, and it shows in the way she slams lockers harder than usual while searching for you.

You feel the tension in the air before you see the source, and she’s finally reaching your hiding spot. As The Skull Merchant opens the locker next to yours, you leap out and vault the window of the small building (known by fellow survivors as “The Killer Shack”).

She chases you around the building a few times, missing swings she’d normally hit because of how pent up you have her. Despite knowing she’s gonna be rough when she catches you, you slow down to let her get a hit. After all, it’s not like you don’t enjoy the special treatment the killer gives you.

However, instead of the familiar searing pain that comes from The Skull Merchant’s weapon putting you in the dying state, you receive a harsh shove that makes you fall down into the corner of the shack.

You turn your bleeding body around, expecting to meet a slow and painful death, but before you know what’s happening the killer’s weapon is stabbed into the wall next to your head and her lips are on yours.

You freeze up for a second or two, not expecting the action. Not that you’re upset by it, but doesn’t she want to kill you after eluding her for so long this trial? Noticing your stiffness, The Skull Merchant bites down hard on your bottom lip, pulling away and chuckling when it draws the desired yelp from you.

As she scans your face with her light eyes, you get a moment to take in the sight of her unmasked face. You knew the Skull Merchant was attractive already, but being this close to her for the first time is making your heart flutter and face heat up. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by another kiss, one much less rough but just as passionate as the first. One you find yourself leaning into.

As you feel the killer’s hands wrap around your wrists, moving to pin them above your head, a distant grumble and shake of the ground interrupts the two of you. The Entity reminding you this is a trial, and the time left for you to escape is drawing shorter.

Sighing, the Skull Merchant stands and picks you up, lifting you over her shoulder the same way she has so many times before. This time though, she’s holding you tighter around your waist, walking slower as if to prolong your time together. The familiar cold breeze of the hatch approaches, and the killer drops you right next to the dark void.

She nods once, as if to say “go, before I change my mind”, and you’re about to crawl through your escape before turning to face her again.

“Thanks, uh…”

“Adriana. Now go.”

And you do as she says, but not before giving her a shy smile which she returns with a smirk. You're excited for the next time the two of you meet, which happens to be a lot sooner than you'd expected...

[podfeels]

Podfeels Adapt8ion Notes: Episode 3

hello, dare again! just as a reminder for how these posts work, stagelights will be covering the notes as a whole, and if i ever have to pitch in it will be with purple text like this! with that said, lets get back into it!

this episode had a good chunk of rewrites just because there's a ton of visual gags that simply do not scan in audio format. there was a good chunk of back and forth on a bunch of lines.

this bit of dialogue had a minor change, as the ‘question mark’ line kind of felt weird in audio. i think it probably could have still worked, but we decided to replace it to make it a call forward to a line later in the text, where vriska says the “prompting for a response” thing instead. for some reason the text in the video version was changed to a winky face instead of a normal smiley? i dont know who made that change or why but its so minor i dont even really care lol. it was made into a wink because we felt it fit the tone better! the original smile was kind of oblique, just ignoring june's question. but with the scene in general, and especially with our rewrites and our vriska's performance, a taunting wink felt far more fitting than the flat smile.

more emoji replacement. fairly simple

another text gag changed because it didnt work in audio. also the question marks were changed to exclamation marks in the text because i thought it fit the delivery of the actual line slightly better. 

theres nothing new to say about this that hasn’t already been said a bunch. moving on.

this line was a major sticking point. it’s a visual gag that we can’t just cut, because this gag is directly related to why june picks the name that she does. so we had to do *something*. we had a bunch of different rewrites on this.

we ended up going with the second one of these, as you can tell

there was also some deliberation on how long the actual “very long june” should be when said out loud. i thought the initial take we had was way too short, and i was mostly thinking back to the voxus dubs take of this specific line, but if we just took that delivery and slapped it here it would have felt *too* long because the context behind the lines is completely different. i think we ended having it be about 6 seconds long, which was perfect.

the immediate next line was also a bit of a bitch.

these were some of the rewrites suggested.

ended up going with the second one, which surprisingly isn’t *that* different from how it was in the original text. this is because ultimately we decided that our edits were all... overegging the pudding a bit. we ended up going with one close to the original in writing, but specifically directing our vriska to perform it as if she was lying through her teeth. lying about xenobabble she doesnt know (either because she's vriska and hiding a mistake like vriska does, or because she's Not Quite Vriska and making up exomemories on the fly to justify herself, who is to say) and brushing it off, with a couple added lines to show she's forcing it to be dropped through force of will and rudeness. god i love that spiderbitch.

this line was changed to be a call forward to this bit in a later chapter, which i didn’t even notice until listening back to some of the early drafts of episode 7 (coming soon™)

this was actually to try and solidify a bit of consistency between John and June. we've sprinkled some quotes from each other into the other's dialogue to make them seem a bit more like each other. (i use John and June like this for godfeels reasons to be clear, because June isn't quite John, and John isn't quite Dare, so there's no good way of going about it so I just use John. personal taste.)

some emoticons removed

some fairly minor narration changes for pacing

bunch of emoji replacements

this part is pretty fun. vriskas voice becomes jades and johns matching the text color, which fits whats being said in the narration. stuff like this is a huge part of why i love working on podfeels.

nother emoticon replacement

this is a very minor text change, literally because john’s va said the line slightly differently and i edited the script to match whats being said

 this bit of narration was cut for pacing

replacing the description of “bawl so hard it feels like dying” with audio of john crying, with dialogue of vriska being comforting. not just comforting, but Encouraging. in the "You got this", she is in a sense instilling june with her confidence. shit may go to hell, but we'll make it work. YOU'LL make it work.

minor change, theres a text sound effect here

there was a small change in the narration to reflect an addition in sound design of tossing the phone, and the smaller text is a fun little gag

none of the text here was changed, but this is such an important moment in the story, and the decision to cast john and june separately really helps sell the same switch from second to first person, replacing the swap in text color with a swap in actor. i believe this decision was partly to sell this moment and partly as future proof for later parts of godfeels. i remember sarah saying once that she had planned for june to be played by the same actor throughout in her initial plans for podfeels, but i personally like the way we did it a lot. also, a nice coincidence in our casting is that, junes voice sounds like a perfect in between of john and vriska’s voice.

this seems like a fairly big change, but its not…really? the script formatting makes it look way more complicated than it is. mostly this is just adding dialogue for the characters approach, similar to how its described in narration in the original text.

this isn’t necessarily a change but the final “fuck” is slightly cut off as the song jumps into the credits theme. which i think is very funny. also if and when we get to godfeels 3.2, when they do the same bit again but with dare instead of june, i REALLY hope we can do this exact same cutoff gag again. but that’s getting way ahead of ourselves. :)

_____

so thats it covered! thank you to stagelights for doing the breakdowns for these episodes! check back tomorrow for episode 4's breakdown!

[magnetohazard]

THE BOYS(AND TSUBAKI) ARE BACK IN TOWN

Time to celebrate. After many months, we finally have the three-chapter gap in translations of Nii Satoru's Wind Breaker FILLED on mangareader.

This series is great, y'all. If you like media with delinquents and fighting, this is the series to read.

Also, if you like good transgender representation in your manga, this series is a must-read.

This is Takusu Tsubakino. Despite what the official translations for scenes involving her may lead you to believe, she is indeed transgender and when the only site I could find this on had fan scans with really bad formatting, she was a standout character to me as a newly-trans woman myself. She gets her own arc explaining who she is as a person and let me tell you, that shit brought me to tears with how seen I felt reading it.

BUT FIRST A LITTLE BACKGROUND

I got recommended this manga in a really small Facebook group that was dedicated to sharing art(fan and official) of trans characters in manga and anime and I didn't know just how good this character would be going into it. The series' writing, at first, was somewhat standard, but I sensed that there was more to the story even without the trans rep. And there was. It confronts a lot of issues that I faced growing up like having trouble fitting, trying to prove yourself in all the wrong ways, and getting rid of a fractured image of what it means to be fulfilled.(excuse the following picture's quality, it was from my old phone which did this weird thing where the screen brightness also determined the brightness of the screen capture)

Now I was really sucked in to the story already and they showed Tsubakino in an earlier panel in one of the chapters following the first major fight in the series because she's one of the 5 strongest people at the school the characters go to, which is full of kind-hearted delinquents doing community service and being the pride of the town because of it.

Unfortunately, Tsubaki didn't get her own chapter until almost the end of where the English fan translations stopped at the time but I will reiterate: I fucking cried when I got to her backstory.

Now when she finally gets a chance to speak out loud in chapter 62, we get the good news of the main character, Sakura, not being transphobic after being corrected once(in the fan translations, I took a break in the middle of writing this because I needed to re-read her arc to put my thoughts in order and they got updated with the official translations that still use he/him). Honestly? Huge win because Sakura is a whole other post himself that I may or may not make later.

But the real meat comes from the chapter after this. Tsubaki asks Sakura on a date, which is just her way of saying: "Come help me with a personal project." That project is to visit an older man that she met as a child and keep him company because he and his now-deceased wife were the ones who helped her realize that she is trans and the way they tell the story in chapters 64 and 65 are absolutely tearjerking so I'm not going to really get into it here. Please go read those chapters to really feel it for yourself!(pt2 in reblogs)

[lacomandante]

im sure you explained it somewhere, but how did you end up getting the chance to stay and work with assumpta? that is just amazing!

It's a really weird story, but I made a post (I forget which site it was, maybe insta) about how much I liked Teresa and the Sharpe series, and Assumpta's husband, Scott, ended up finding it LOL. He was really kind and sent me her email to reach out to her...which took me about 8 months to write (and Sam of course edited the email so I wouldn't sound cringe :P). Assumpta got it and from there added me and followed me and naturally I was freaking out LOL. I would always be so nervous and have no idea what to say, or if what I wanted to send was fine (and it literally was completely normal I was just freaking out over getting the chance to talk to her LOL). She wanted to meet for coffee when I came to Spain, we planned for it in the spring of 2020.

Which...did not happen. It wasn't until last year I got to go. I had been saving up since 2018 so that was like 5 years of waiting. Since 2018 though I had been collecting a lot of her films because I was rping Teresa (this is technically an rp blog for those who've recently followed me and don't know LOL). I wanted to find new films for icons, and I was learning Spanish, so it was really helpful and immersive for me. So that's how I started collecting her really hard to find films. I sent a few to her and she hadn't seen them since they premiered in the 90's, and she was so happy I made it my goal to find as many as I could!

Over the years she kept asking me when I was coming, and my voucher for my airline ticket was expiring soon, so Sam and I made plans to go in spring of 2023 :) The offer of coffee changed to dinner at their place. I ended up giving her a big hard drive of all the films I had found (and other gifts), in chronological order, which amounted to like, 80+ films and television shows, from 1976-1995. Instead of shock, she held the checklist I made for her and noticed the one's that were missing. She was like "Oh, I have that one. And that one. And that one too." They led me to their bedroom office and to a giant treasure trove of shelves filled with nothing but boxes and boxes full of her works, her call sheets, headshots, etc, soooo much stuff. It turns out she really did have those missing films, but they're in formats that are so old now there's not many places that can convert them into a watchable format :(

But there was so much to go through, and we had dinner with them twice, that they offered to let me come back in the fall of 2023 to organize and archive a lot of it, so that's what I did! I was there for about two and a half weeks in their apartment, working day and night essentially to try and organize and scan things. But with film negatives and slides it's difficult to get the technology to digitalize those things, so it was a slow process. But yeah! It was really fun, even though we were working most of the time (she's a super busy person) we got to go out and do things and have a lot of fun. I'm going back in the spring to help out some more cuz there's still so much work to do!

I just think it's very funny to see my transition from "omggg she's FOLLOWING ME she called me a FRIEND!" to "we have a groupchat and i am completely normal about it now and we work together" LOL.

[yassifiedwelder]

I have been brainstorming soooo much for this #Spidersona thing I have been doing research and working out character arcs and designs and back stories with friends. I really want music to have a major roll in this. I’m thinking I could create a playlist and mess around with those Spotify codes to create a code in the book each person could scan and that song could play as they read through the next couple of panels.

I think I’m mainly posting about this to record it. I’ve never felt this was about a project or idea and I really think I could flush this out into something tangible. I technically have all of the knowledge and skill to work through this and create a physical copy of this graphic novel/idk “interactive” multimedia experience lmao.

Anywho, if anyone happens to see this please drop some songs/playlists for inspiration below. Go obscure, I’m talking like 3 weird recordings on YouTube from a German club obscure, but also I don’t mind the classics (I do plan to have a badass helicopter scene involving all of these mutant freedom fighters to #CCR .)

Here’s some songs I have ideas for rn

THESE ARE THE VIBESSS!

If anyone bothers to read this far hello! Welcome to this virtual project log. I have a tendency to ramble when I’m in a creative mood so after I have that time I like to sit back and reflect on what I’ve learned and write it all down and share it looking for comments questions and ideas. So I hope you like it!

The first video is the amount of pages so far, (the post right before this) I am planning on trying to digitize and rewrite the first “Issue” as a readable post on here so I’m gonna get started on that’s soon. I’m taking a lot of inspirations from Zine culture and alternative comics, body horror ideas from things like the Fly and Johnny the Homocidal maniac, all set to a soundtrack built off of the foundations of rock and the oddity’s of today. The color palate is as if the album cover for the Mountains Goats’ “Goths” came to life, with a formatting similar to one of my favorite books “My favorite thing is monsters” (look it uppppp)

Also, HEY MR. MOUSE! I’m not trying to make money off this, I’m just trying to make some fun art and share it with the world. BUT if you wanna use my characters,hmu (I am delusional) we can work out a deal, have your People call my people.

But that also goes to anyone else out there who wants to work together, my dms are open . . . (Mostly to bots rn)

OH Kay back to it . . . .

In the next pictures are some character designs that are very very very very much inspired by my friends. They’re strange enough that unless you know me by name then you would never get it Lmao . . . But the characters are kinda cool. I really tried to use actual habits and adaptations that these animals have in real life compared to how the human body would have to accommodate for its ability to defy nature. Planning for this to be kinda gory. I’m excited.

Also PSA I know I’m not an amazing artist, I’m going more for story and style over photo realism idk, this is just for my enjoyment, thank you for your time 💖💖💖 to help keep track I’m gonna tag all of these with #OnetaAquatica I’m excited to explore this story and world.

[giantcypress]

Housekeeping

Any weirdness you've been seeing on the desktop version of Giant Cypress is me mucking around with a new theme. With the old theme, new posts have sometimes been displaying in unexpected ways, because of the new post format that Tumblr implemented. In addition, the old theme had become less well-behaved on mobile devices. So I thought it was time to redesign the blog.

The new theme has all the components that the old one did. I've carried over many of the design elements of the old theme, which I think is nice. It's more responsive, with an improved look on a wider array of different screen sizes, on mobile and desktop. I think it scans better now, as well as having a better balance between text and photos for posts. And then there were the many tiny tweaks that may or may not have been that noticeable, but were driving me nuts. That's why I spent a good 30 minutes this morning chasing down why a dot was positioning itself a hair to the right from where I was expecting it.

Anyway, I think I'm done, and I hope you like the new theme. If there's anything that seems off, please let me know.