#was the SOUL color an intentional choice??? yes

[outer-stars]

*SAVE The World plays*

throwback to last year after the Amphibia finale aired when I was struck with inspo when listening to the Undertale soundtrack

Andddd here's the main image file! Tried to stay true to the original game's graphic style (but I figured if the Asriel fight got color, then Anne deserved some colors as well) ✨

[bogkeep]

Would you recommend the SSSS comic? I know little of it beside the very beautiful artstyle and premise

to answer the question of if i would recommend SSSS as a comic: yes, yes i would.

a description for those who don't know: Stand Still Stay Silent is a post-apocalyptic horror + adventure webcomic set in the nordics (norway, sweden, denmark, finland, iceland) that have been isolated from the rest of the world and gone back to their old gods. the the world outside of safe zones is full of trolls and beasts - humans and mammals that got infected by a horrible virus and turned into monsters. the story follows a ragtag crew that ventures into the old world (derelict denmark) on an expedition to collect books.

the comic updated every workday until it concluded in 2022, and consists of two Adventures. the creator had plans for many adventures with these characters in this world, but ended it after two when she wanted to take a new direction with her life.

what i love about it:

- the art is GORGEOUS. it's been a huge source of inspiration for me. open any page and it's a masterpiece, and you will ask yourself "how the FUCK did she update this FIVE DAYS A WEEK"

- the characters are wonderful and endearing. i just, i love them so much. i am so thankful lalli hotakainen exists he is one of my #1 blorbos forever

- the world is so cool. the blend of chunky sci-fi and norse mythology fantasy magic slaps. it goes so hard. i fell so hard for this comic when i got to the big ferry ship with a viking style dragon head prow added to it. it's everything

- it really really gets nordic cultures. it's difficult to explain all the dynamics and nuances but it just gets it. it brings me as a scandinavian a lot of joy to read a story that speaks to my heart this way. the attitudes, the language barriers, the cultural differences... it was so refreshing to me in a media landscape dominated by american stories. when the pandemic hit, i decided to reread the comic because i found such an odd comfort in seeing how it depicted the scandinavian countries reacting to, well, a pandemic.

- there's kittycats

what i don't like about it:

- the most glaring and obvious flaw is that everyone in the comic is white. there's not a single character of color anywhere, not even i background shots or the prologue. there's no mention of the saami people (the indigenous people of northern europe), either. i believe this was done in ignorance more than malicious intent, but the implications are Extremely Bad and it's been bothering me (AND MANY OTHERS) since day 1. that is the number one caveat i will give to anyone wanting to check this comic out. i've been in the discourse trenches and i am not going to excuse this. it's just bad!

- you can tell in the middle of adventure 2 that the creator has kind of lost interest in the work, around the time when she found jesus i guess. like, very few people can keep up work on the same creative project for years and years and years and i think it's fine that she wanted to drop it, but it's a bit sad to see the comic dragged to its end like a limp corpse, and feeling like the creator no longer really cares about the characters.

- minna sundberg has said and done some questionable things, presumably gotten somewhat radicalised over time, and has also converted to hardcore christianity which is what her new works are about. there's nothing about this in SSSS - there is a moment of christianity represented in the story in a sort of mythological sense, just like the other religions, but this was written before minna's conversion. her new works... are a Choice. i have much to say about them, and i have, and im not gonna rehash it now.

SO YEAH hopefully this will help you take an Informed Choice! i got into this comic in 2015 and was deep in the fandom and it's for better or for worse part of my soul foundation now.

i also recommend A Redtail's Dream, minna's "practice comic" before SSSS, based on finnish mythology and the kalevala.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

Okay so since there’s soooo much fucking transphobia rampant, here’s a post for those of you who either are Christian and/or surrounded by Christian queerphobes. Here’s a list of rebuttals to when they start talking about how being trans is ungodly.

Most of these rebuttals are religious as that is the base they will be arguing from; however I did include  bit of a science to make their heads spin.

“Genesis also says that God made morning and evening. Are morning and evening strictly binary? Is there nothing inbetween? Can you define 'morning'? How about the binary of darkness and light?”

“So if we're born the gender we are, what are intersex people?” [when they inevitably say there's just "so few of them"] “There are more intersex people than there are redheads. 1.7% of the population are Intersex, while roughly 1.5% are redheads. Does that mean that redheads do not 'count' when discussing hair color?”

[to “God doesn't make mistakes”] “Yes, of course. They just do impossible things. After all, if God could put a baby into a virgin, or could bring life to the dead, why could they not put a boy's soul into a girl's body, or vice versa?”

Feel free to also say “God literally made such a mistake with all humanity that they flooded the planet.”

This line is from a Jewish source, Something That May Shock and Discredit You by Daniel Mallory Ortberg: “As my friend Julian puts it, only half winkingly: 'God blessed me by making me transsexual for the same reason God made wheat but not bread and fruit but not wine, so that humanity might share in the act of creation.'”

Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.“

If they're using the Deuteronomy verse (22:5, about not crossdressing or w/e), know that line is mistranslated. Quoting https://hoperemainsonline.com/index.php/transgender/, “A more literal translation from Hebrew reads 'The weapon of a warrior shall not be on a woman, nor shall a warrior put on the robe of a woman, for all who do these things are a hateful thing to the LORD thy God.' The word “robe” is translated from the Hebrew word simlah, which was a garment worn by both sexes. Clearly, this cannot be referring to cross-dressing. What could it be referring to then? A much more likely answer to that question is that it is about ritual purity and the mixing of blood. Both warrior’s swords and women’s garments would get blood on them, one from battle and the other from menstruation. To have a man wear the robe of a woman, or vice versa, would mix blood, which was considered an abomination under the law.”

Similar mistranslations result in the homophobic verses they spew as well. just browse through hoperemains for some inspo

This last one is long, but it talks about how all humans, including women, were created in God's image; therefore, God is both male and female. If it's wrong for humans to be, why is God enby themself? 

From The Africana Bible, edited by Hugh R Page Jr:

“The term occasionally translated as 'human beings' in the NRSV and generally as "man" in most other English versions is  'adam or ha'adam. Now this is clearly not a personal name (that is, Adam) as the KJV ill-advisedly begins to indicate at about Gen. 2:19. A better translation of this term, however, would be “the earthling” since the term is derived from the term ‘adamah, meaning “land” or “earth.” Such a translation clarifies better than “man” or even “human being” that the original intent of the author is to emphasize that God made “earthlings” as a whole, not just males, in God’s image[...]”

[...]“Such a translation takes into consideration that the term ‘adam is meant to function as a collective term referring to both the male and the female. Thus, we should note that ‘adam here is not a name or an ascription of gender but a collective term for “earthlings” in general; this is emphasized by the author’s choice of the plural pronoun ‘otham, and the use of the plural verbs veyirddu and urdu, meaning in 1:26 and 1:28, 'let THEM have dominion,' further reiterates the inclusive nature of the term ‘adam. [...] In Genesis 1 and 2, both genders were created with equal expressions of God’s image, equal authority over the earth, and equal value as human beings.”

[gentrychild]

AU where the great deity Gentrychild gets yeeted into the canon BNHA-verse and single-handedly consumes AFO's soul, effortlessly saving Japan as her rat companions feast upon his flesh

1 - In true isekai fashion, I was hit by a truck and sent to the canon bnhaverse. Barid was driving it and was distracted by Moonpaw's shiny colors as the neon cat was walking down the street.

2 - I landed in the middle of Mustafu, immediately recognizing the canon BNHAverse and thinking that no one would bat an eye at my appearance since it's a post Dawn of Quirks world. I was very disappointed to see all of those people running away screaming from me. I guess that appearance-based-discrimination is still a thing.

3 - Despite what the prompt asks of me, I have no intention to derail the story. Izuku is in the middle of his beach training and yes, I took one thousand pictures (and several selfies) but apart from that, I didn't intervene in any way. I want All Might to have his Kamino moment. Instead, I keep stealing Nighteye's merch and watch him implode in fury, putting dirt all over Chisaski's stuff and ripping Destro Junior's remaining hair tuff by tuff.

4 - All was well until someone not only tried to cut the line to get raspberry ice cream but actually elbowed me to do so? Who does that? I politely informed him that I was here first and that he better get back to end of the line. The very rude man wearing what I first believed to be a Mandalorian helmet insulted my feathers then said that my quirk was fascinating and was about to put his hand on me! So I did what everyone would do in this situation! I ate his soul, messily and painfully. He begged a lot on his way out of life and into my stomach. But hey, at least, the line cleared out and I got my ice cream faster than expected to wash out the taste!

5 - Unfortunately, I eventually realized that I had just killed AFO, aka the main villain of the story. Shigaraki couldn't be expected to replace him, as he was still in his League of Legend phase. So I figured out that I could just kinda piece him back together and use him as a puppet so he could still play his role. After all, I have written so many AFOs, it should be child's play to keep in character and probably make him a more competent villain than what we've seen lately in the manga. Unfortunately... I didn't realize that wherever I go, the rats follow.

6 - I tried to tell them to stop by screaming that they didn't know where AFO had been but they only chew faster.

7 - Since AFO is dead and BNHA is now deprived of its villain, I have no choice but to take responsibility and to assume the role. I shall now become the new villain of the BNHA world. Wish them luck.

[edens-passing-if]

Eden's Passing is a 16+ game made in Twine by me, Doc, and is my first attempt at making an interactive fiction game!

Genre: Primarily Fantasy and Comedy focused with a smidge of Mystery and Horror elements. Do tell me if a separate catagory fits, please!

Warnings: Trauma, Bodily Injury without feeling it, Body Horror in general (more will be added as time goes on, these are what I'm currently certain off)

Demo: In the works!

Alone in a land you can't recall and stuck at the bottom of a seemingly endless ravine, the start of your journey isn't a pleasant one. Body slowly crumbling away, memory missing, and seemingly stuck with a stranger intent on calling you a name you can't remember, your attempts to leave seem fruitless until they finally offer a helping hand. Hopefully with no strings attached.

Set in the world of Nyr, you're just a lost soul trying to figure out who you are and what happened to you.

Features, added or intended:

☆ Fully customizable MC (name, hair, skin color, personality, etc.)

☆ Romantic or Platonic routes, Poly included.

☆ Long Crocodile. You'll see. ♡

☆ Learn more about the world and maybe save it, maybe launch a salamander at someone.

☆ Diverse cast of characters, ethnicities, religions, etc! (Please do tell me if anything's not accurate enough, it's fantasy, yes, but I am using some real-life ethnicities and such as basis!)

☆ A lot of lore. A lot. I made a map. I will do more than just a map. It's inevitable.

Eden's Passing isn't romance focused but, those inclined towards it, does have multiple routes with it.

Zacharie, M, 36(RO)

A 4'11" man with spiky green hair and red tinted glasses. Adventurers clothing, torn at the edges and taped to his body on his limbs, cover most of his skin. What you can see of his skin, primarily his face, has stitches spanning the length and width. No one is allowed to touch them. Beyond that, he seems nice, even when he mutters insults at passing plants or argues with books. But his skittishness towards others is concerning, especially the glint of pure terror he sometimes shows. It's typical to see him hovering around Cassian, primarily either hiding behind him or riding his shoulders.

Solo OR Poly route with Cassian or Florian.

Cassian, M, 29 (RO)

At 6'6, he's the tallest of the group. Long black hair drapes down well past his hips, sometimes being used to hide his eyes from others. Old yet well cared for armor is his ordinary choice of clothing, no matter the situation. Quiet and melancholic, it's hard to catch him smiling at much of anything. Despite that, he's the first to jump into a fight to protect his friends. One of the few people to understand Zacharie, he keeps a firm eye on anyone that might pose a threat to the smaller man. A bit of an enabler, he will turn a blind eye to the more playful deeds his companions wish to take.

Solo OR Poly route with Zacharie.

Florian, Gender Selectable (M/F/NB), 25 (RO)

At 5'3", they're the second shortest of the group. Blond curly and short hair, styled like an odd pixie cut, clashes against the bright red coat they drap over themself. Two antennae stick out from their scalp, twitching at any stimulus. A butterfly bow, which sometimes flaps on its own when Florians distressed, keeps it from falling off. When they're not being pestered by Zacharie or Wynn, they're actually the most sensible of the group. A bit of a motherhen, they do their best to prevent the others from getting into trouble. It's a thankless job, and they aren't even getting paid for it.

Solo OR Poly routes with Wynn or Zacharie.

Wynn, Gender Selectable (M/F/NB), 23 (RO)

A 5'9" elf that's joined the group alongside Florian. Long, pointed, and pierced ears flick every so often, parting their short, light purple hair. Clad in a cape that trails in the air and an outfit that shows off a concerning amount of chest, they aren't the shyest with showing skin. Long pants that hide even their boots cover their legs, yet never get dirty as they drag across the ground. A bit of a flirt, they aren't the type to take much seriously. It's common to see them, Zacharie, and Twig up to no good, typically with Wynn at the lead. A natural born leader, one might be confused why they follow MC's lead, even they seem at odds with that fact.

Solo OR Poly route with Florian.

Twig, NB, 26 (RO)

Looming over at 6'4", they tend to forget just how tall they are. Long purple hair ends as their tail begins, the fluff at the end matching their hair. Thick and curly when short, it covers up their eyes from the view of others. 5 horns sprout up from their scalp, imitating a crown of sorts, and range in size from a few inches to just two. Clad in purple and blue robes that are breathable yet skin-tight, they've had Zacharie modify it to properly accommodate their tail. Out of the group, they remain the friendliest even in the face of adversity. It's... hard for others to tell whether they're simply naive or just too forgiving, but regardless of that, they remain the first to lend their hand when others need it. A bit of a goofball as well, it's easy to catch them trying to pick the funnest option first. Quick to trust and quicker to befriend, one might wish to spare them from the cruelty of the world.

Solo route

???, NB, ??? (RO?)

A figure that stands at 5'10, they're your savior from the pit you woke up in. Long hair, starting black and quickly fading to a bright red, flows from their scalp like tendrils. It flows as if hit by a breeze constantly, regardless of airflow. Clad in only a white robe tied shut at the waist by a sash, it's easy to notice the gaps in their skin. They never answer when it's brought up, leaving you wondering just what has saved you from the ravine. Quick to anger, you'd almost think they're unpredictable if not for the consistent causes and phrases. Regardless of who you are, they insist your name is Eden. Regardless of their affection towards you, they refuse to tell you who they are. They insist you'll figure it out.

Solo route.

[chaoticpuff17]

Amygdala

Masterlist

part 16

There was a sadistic sort of glee that Margot took in dragging Yoongi through the store looking at dish set after dish set despite his clear disinterest in the proceedings. He was bored, but he hadn’t come to pick out dishes. He’d come to keep an eye on her, and she was determined to make the experience as painfully boring as possible in retaliation. Margot could be a very petty creature when she wanted to be, and in this instance, she wanted to be petty.

Margot spent an obscene amount of time looking over each dish set that caught her eye whether she liked the set or not, and Yoongi dutifully followed along wondering to himself how she could spend twenty minutes staring at the same pieces of ceramic, but he refused to utter a word of complaint. He was content even in the boredom just to be with her. She wasn’t lying in bed a shell of herself, and she wasn’t hurling insults at him at every turn. Overall, it was a successful outing so far by his account of it.

“Do like this one, jagi?” he asked, peering at what felt like the hundredth set she’d looked over.

“It’s nice.” She admitted, turning over the piece in her hand. “I like the color.”

Yoongi took another glance at it. “It’s green.”

“It has character unlike you’re boring ass dishes.” she shot back, quirking a brow at him as if to dare him to argue with her. “Besides, half the pieces are still white. It’s a mix and match kind of set. It adds some color to your house.”

“Pick whatever you want, love.”

Margot looked him up and down for a moment as though he’d said something incredibly dumb. “Yes. I’m going to. That’s the whole plan.”

Margot turned away from him, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face as she debated if this was the set she wanted to bring back to the penthouse. The color was lovely, a nice calm pale green that would brighten up the space while remaining in her favored color palette. While Yoongi had done a good job of making the space into one her college self would have liked, she wasn’t that girl anymore, and her taste in colors had changed a great deal since then.

“This one.” she confirmed, and Yoongi motioned for an attendant to come over, quickly ordering for the set to be packaged up for them. “Now for mugs!” she declared, moving further into the store as Yoongi stared at her as though she’d grown a second head.

“I thought you came for dishes?”

Margot turned back around, hands on her hips. “Mugs are dishes, and your whole apartment needs a redo if you want me to stay there permanently.” Not that she had any intention of Yoongi’s apartment being her permanent home.

“Do what you need to do.”

While the idea of a complete overhaul didn’t thrill his soul, he was immensely pleased that she was making the space her own. It may not have been the most productive use of his time, but he was happy to be spending time with her and even happier that it was in a normal way.

“These ones match.” he pointed out, pulling a light green mug down from the shelf to present to Margot.

Carefully, she took the piece from him, looking it over with a critical eye, and begrudgingly she had to admit that it was a good choice. It was probably the one she would have picked out herself after a much longer process of hemming and hawing in the name of annoying him.

She bit her cheek and stared at him with narrowed eyes, annoyed at how perceptive he was when it came to her tastes. He picked up on her likes and dislikes far too quickly. In a boyfriend it would have been endearing. In him, it was off putting.

Yoongi smirked down at her, amused by her annoyance. It was all part of becoming reacquainted with each other. Her annoyance would give way to gentler emotions with time. He was sure of it. For now, he found the glowering cute.

“Stop that.” she huffed. “You’re not picking dishes.”

“Do you want this set?” He asked, quirking a brow as though to dare her to say she didn’t like what he’d picked.

She stayed quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed and biting her the inside of her cheek before she gritted out that yes, she did in fact want that set of mugs, earning a triumphant smirk from Yoongi.

“I’m going to keep looking.”

“I’ll have them add the mugs to our tab.”

“You do that.”

Margot continued to move through the store, Yoongi following behind as always. As she perused the ceramics, Yoongi’s phone began to ring, drawing her attention.

A furrow appeared between Yoongi’s brow, his mouth set in a hard line clearly irritated by the interruption. Whoever was on the other side of that call though was apparently important enough to draw Yoongi away.

“I’m sorry, jagiya. I have to take this. You should keep looking.” He placed a hand on her arm in what she assumed was meant to be a comforting way before drawing back to pick up his phone.

“What?” he barked harshly into the device, letting his displeasure be known to whoever dared disturb his day with Margot.

The woman herself continued through the store searching for an opening in this golden opportunity. With Yoongi distracted, she might just be able to get a message out. She wouldn’t be able to fully slip away. He would see her making for the exit, and she knew that her security team was more than likely not far away, but with any luck she might just be able to contact someone and let them know what had happened to her.

Looking around, Margot noticed one of the ladies who worked at the store lingering near by. With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that Yoongi wasn’t paying attention to her, Margot made her way over.

“Excuse me.”

“Can I help you, Min buin?” the woman asked, a customer service smile stretched across her lips.

“I was wondering if you had a phone that I could use.”

The woman’s smile dimmed, confusion in her eyes. “A phone, buin?”

“Yes. I don’t have mine currently, and my…” she steeled herself for a moment for the lie she was about to tell, the words lodged in her throat not wanting to come out. “My husband is currently occupied, and I can’t borrow his.” The woman stared at her skeptically. “Just for a moment. I promise.”

Margot kept her expression light and calm as she tried to persuade the other woman not wanting her to know that anything was amiss.

“Of course, buin.” the woman reached into her pocket pulling out her phone and passing it over despite her reservations.

“Thank you.” Margot breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the phone.

Quickly, she dialed one of the few numbers she had memorized, praying as the phone rang that he would pick up.

“Yeoboseyo?”

“Tae-il?” Margot rushed, speaking softly but quickly into the phone.

“Margot-ah?” Tae-il asked clearly just as relieved to hear her voice as she was to hear his. “Margot, where are you? What happened.”

Margot glanced at the woman who was still nearby looking at her curiously. “I’m with Yoongi.”

“What?” Tae-il’s voice shook as he spoke. “Are you alright? Has he hurt you?”

“I’m alright. We’re out running errands.”

“Errands?”

“Could you let Namjoon-ssi know that I’ve been tied up, and I won’t be able to make our meeting?”

She spoke in a hushed tone, careful not to be too loud so as not to attract Yoongi’s attention but not so softly that the call would seem unusual to the other woman. She was also careful to keep her words as unrushed as possible. That would also cause suspicion, and she doubted that this woman had any qualms about reporting any odd behavior to Yoongi. It might have just been her own paranoia, but she didn’t feel she could trust anyone where Yoongi was concerned especially not in a place where the staff referred to her as Min buin.

“Margot?”

“I don’t have my phone right now, so he won’t be able to call.”

“Margot, are you safe?”

“Yes. Please pass on the message.” Margot looked around nervously, noticing that Yoongi was putting away his phone and turning his attention back to her though she wasn’t where he had left her. It would be a matter of moments before he spotted her with a phone in hand.

“Margot.”

“I’ll call again soon.”

“Margot, don’t hang up.”

Margot hung up the call, handing the phone back to the sale’s woman. “Thank you for letting me borrow your phone.”

The woman gave her a look, still suspicious about what she had just witnessed but unwilling to ask any questions about it. “It was my pleasure, buin.”

“Mari-ah.” Yoongi called, sharp eyes spotting her tucked away behind one of the displays.

“Thank you.” she said again before turning her attention to Yoongi. “Calm down. I’m right here.” she huffed, pretending that she hadn’t just done what she’d done.

Yoongi was back by her side in a moment, slinging an arm around her waist in a display of public affection that she wasn’t particularly fond of. “What did you find, love?”

Margot took a quick glance at the items around her. “Tea sets.” she responded quickly and as breezily as she could, ignoring her shaking hands.

“Didn’t you just buy mugs?”

“Mugs and tea sets are different things.”

“Did you find anything you like?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something.”

The pair spent hours in the store, filtering through the departments picking out this and that for the apartment or rather with Margot picking out things for the apartment and Yoongi throwing in his two cents every now and again only to receive a withering glare from Margot in return. Even with the glares, every now and then something he would suggest would be begrudgingly accepted into the haul.

Margot made sure to make every moment count, spending longer than necessary looking over each section of the store and each item. She was all too aware that when the shopping was done, so was her time outside. There were only so many excuses she could come up with to remain out of the apartment in one day and only so long that Yoongi would allow her to use those excuses before it was time to head home.

“Come on, jagiya.” Yoongi sighed, relieved to be done with the shopping even if it meant there was now a significant dent in his credit card. “I think that’s everything you could possibly need for the moment. Let’s go grab lunch.”

Margot hesitated, unsure if she wanted to go eat with him and wracking her brain for an excuse as good as going for lunch as to why they couldn’t go back to the apartment yet. She came up with nothing.

“We can even go to Tae-il-ssi’s restaurant if you’d like.”

Her eyes widened, the offer too good to be true, but she could see no lie in his eyes as he made the offer.

“We can go to Tae-il’s?” she asked slowly, just to be sure that she had heard him correctly and wasn’t hallucinating the things that she wanted to hear.

“We can go to Tae-il’s.” he confirmed.

“Okay then. Let’s go to Tae-il’s.”

Yoongi sent their shopping back to the apartment with part of the security team as he drove them back to her former home, her real home. Margot could only hope that Tae-il would have the presence of mind not to say anything to Yoongi about the phone call she had just made. She very much doubted that he would appreciate her making illicit phone calls to send messages to detectives behind his back, and she didn’t want to see what the consequence to that action would be if he found out.

Part of her knew that it was stupid to go to Tae-il right after the call, but the other part desperately wanted to see him and assure him that she was alright. if she was very lucky, Yoongi might even allow her a moment alone to talk to Tae-il where she could give him a more detailed message for Namjoon. She knew the odds of it were slim, a mere hope of a hope, but she was determined to try for her own sanity if nothing else.

“Are you excited, jagi?” Yoongi asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

“Excited?”

“To see Tae-il.”

Margot thought for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. “I’m excited to see him, but I also don’t want to worry him too much. He’s not going to be happy that I’m with you.”

“He doesn’t like me very much does he?”

“No. No he doesn’t.” she huffed out, rolling her eyes. “You can’t really blame him though. You did ransack his restaurant.”

Yoongi’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I didn’t personally do anything.”

Margot looked over at him, once more debating if there was a brain in his head at all given the brainless things that seemed to come out of his mouth routinely.

She started to speak, and then paused, blinking slowly as she tried to piece together her thought. “You were…. you… you ordered it?” She stared at him, still trying to process. “Are you trying to imply that you aren’t at fault because you didn’t physically ransack anything despite being the one to order it? What kind of fucked up sense does that make?” She scoffed, turning to look out the passenger side window. “This is why no one likes you.”

“You don’t like me, jagiya?” he asked, a small smile pulling on the corner of his lips as he gave a small gasp of shock.

Margot turned back to him, face void of all expression. “Not even a little bit.”

“You’re lies hurt me, jagiya.” A pout pulled at his features.

“I’m sure you’ll survive like the cockroach you are.” she waved him off breezily, turning once more to watch the world pass by through the window.

Yoongi let her be after that, content to drive in silence as her thoughts took her away into a world of her own making. His own thoughts drifted to her words.

While being called a cockroach wasn’t the most flattering thing, it also wasn’t a completely inaccurate assessment. He wasn’t ashamed of the things he’d done to get where he was now, but there were certainly things in his past that strengthen the comparison. He’d scraped his way up from the bottom with the same resilience of a cockroach, and everyone who had doubted him or tried to stand in his way were either knew better than to question him or were no longer there to underestimate him. Every attempt to destroy him had failed, and he’d clawed his way up until he’d reached the success he had today. It was with that same determination he planned to approach him relationship with Margot.

Cockroach or not, he was a man who got his way, and he doubted that Margot had the same single minded determination to resist him. She’d tire of it eventually, and the comfort of their previous relationship would win out over the stubbornness she insisted on. It was a waiting game, and he was sure that he was the contestant with the most patience and the most to lose should he have guessed wrong.

If he had bet wrong in this, he would lose everything he had ever wanted. If she had bet wrong, she’d get a loving husband and a beautiful home.

Yoongi’s hands flexed on the wheel again as the thoughts ran through his head. Everything he’d ever hoped for hinged on whether or not she bluffing about hating him or not. He talked a good game and put on a good show when she spewed her vitriol against him, but deep down, beneath it all, there was a kernel of doubt that liked to snake up his spine when she did. What if it wasn’t just a bluff? What if there wasn’t still a lingering affection as he’d been banking on? What if he couldn’t get her to love him again?

Just as quickly as the doubt would rear its ugly head, Yoongi would push it back down again. He couldn’t afford to doubt himself, not in business and not in this. Everything depended on his ability to predict the correct outcome, his unfailing instincts and ruthless drive to succeed. He hadn’t been wrong before, and he wouldn’t be wrong now. She loved him. Deep beneath it, all just as his doubt lingered so did her love, and he would find a way to pull it back out again even if he had to drag it out of her kicking and screaming.

As much as he hated to admit it, it had been quite some time since he’d actually had to woo a woman. The last time may well have been Margot herself, and he’d fumbled that spectacularly. He knew the basic principles though. He knew that it would require softer tactics than he was used to, and he had been made well aware by Margot herself that she was not going to bend to him easily, but she wouldn’t have been his Margot if she had folded at the first attack. His Margot was made of stronger stuff than that, and as frustrated as he found himself at times that they couldn’t just jump back into things as they had been, he also found a certain thrill in the chase. She kept him on his toes.

A slow smile stretched over his features as he pulled over. His Margot wasn’t easy, but he wouldn’t have had her any other way.

“We’re here, jagiya.”

“Can I actually get out on my own or is the child lock still in play?” She asked, tilting her head to the side in question.

“I’ll get the door. "

Margot grumbled as he opened her door for her, offering a gentlemanly had which she chose to ignore. “The child lock is kind of demeaning, you know?”

“We can talk about not having the child locks on when you no longer look like you want to run me through.”

“So not any time soon.”

“That’s completely up to you, jagiya.”

“I dislike you immensely.” she sighed, narrowing her eyes slightly before her entire demeanor switched. Her shoulders pulled back, and a bright smile took over her face, lighting up her features as she made her way to the door.

“Uncle!”

part 17

[whothehellisoli]

ok, alastor thought/theory dump:

i think HIS magic is the green. i see why it could by the color of his deal but the chain he had on husk was green and based off valentino and angel it’s safe to assume the chain color is the overlords. i think all green magic is his.

however when his eyes go all radio dial creepy they turn black, which, in my opinion, shows his soul isn’t his when he’s using his powers, similar to how angel only has one black eye because valentino only owns his soul in the studio.

it’s honestly a confusing mix, when he uses his powers his soul isn’t his, but they are HIS powers. so i think it’s most likely he sold his soul to make it easier to gain power on his own. he’s not stupid, if he got power through a deal the deal maker now has an element of control over his power. so he cuts corners, and with the help of presumably lilith, becomes more and more powerful.

if the deal was the source of his power he wouldn’t say that getting out of it will let him “pull the strings.” he wouldn’t even WANT out of it, his only motivation that we are certain of atm is power and control, and yes his deal takes his control but if it gives him his power losing that would take BOTH.

i think a crucial bit of information were missing is when did this deal happen and how does husk know. (and why didn’t alastor kill him but that’s vaguely explainable)

was it when he first got down? young and dumb and selling his soul, which would explain how he made such a big splash so quick? or was it seven years ago? gaining power at the expense of leaving hell with lilith to do god knows what?

i think it’s far more likely to have been when he first got to hell, and lilith was able to exercise her control over him to get him to leave with her. obviously his place in the hotel isn’t because he’s bored, that’s been made clear several times. so why?

it’s possible it’s part of his deal with lilith but she’s still such a mystery i don’t think it’s safe to say anything about her. alastor said in ep 7 that charlie was powerful, being on her side was a good bet, and he could mold her. based on that and his presumably genuine interest in everyone, i think he’s choosing to be there. it’s chess, moves and counter moves, etc. he stays at the hotel and he isn’t lying when he calls it his latest project. he’s just lying about why. he saw naive charlie on tv and knew she would welcome him in, hence his evil little grin. that’s HIS choice, not liliths.

now, for his monologue in the tower. i’m going to be working off the idea everything in the song was an intentional decision and not made for the sake of sounding good.

“this place reeks of death, there’s a chill in the air” that seems like filler, painting the scenery, but i don’t think so. i think it’s meant to show he cares about the hotel and the people in it. he can physically FEEL the tragedy affecting him. he might not be as distraught about it as someone else, but he does care.

“i barley escaped being KILLED by a hair” he put emphasis of killed while singing, that’s the key take away. he almost died. he’s coming to terms with the limit of his power and it’s driving him insane. and i think it’s important to note that… he kinda, didn’t? almost die? his microphone broke (which does show power far greater that him) and he got thrown against the wall. that’s hardly enough to kill someone. he’s been untouchable most if not all of his time in hell, so this fight was a brutal reminder he IS vulnerable. he told adam he though he was tougher than him. tougher that the first ever soul and someone only lucifer was able to take down. his ego definitely got killed but i think this line shows he’s never really processed the idea of losing.

“‘alastor altruist died for his friends’” if you watch with captions you can see that line is in quotation marks. someone else is saying that, meaning he thinks the general perception of what happened will be that his reason for almost dying is to save the people in the hotel. but that’s just the words, next step is his facial expression. his eyes are wide and darting around, he’s gripping his face, he’s TERRIFIED. love is a weakness, he’s not just feeling weak (which IS part of why he’s spiraling), he’s being perceived as weak, which is so much worse. he’s losing his control and needs it back, leading to:

“sorry to disappoint, that is not how this ends.” there’s a couple things with this line. the Vs and other overlords will be disappointed because he’s not dead and his “friends” (his word, not mine, but i think it fits) will be disappointed he’s not willing to die for them like they maybe assumed he did. “not how this ends” is obvious, he didn’t die, so his rein didn’t end. but pulling back to his desperation in this scene, he’s angry, his latest power grab isn’t working out, but it will.

“i’m hungry for freedom like never before, the constraints of my deal surely have a back door ” again with the desperation, the fear, not sure if mania is the right word but it’s what comes to mind. he’s scrambling. but at the same time, how did his deal almost make him die?? he wants out of it, hence why i said i doubt it gives him his powers, so it must in some way limit his powers? but why would he make a deal that hinders him? again, this is why i think when he first got to hell he sold his soul to make it easier to gain his own power. but in some way his power isn’t HIS. it still is on a leash.

“once i figure out how to unclip my wings, guess who will be pulling all the strings” is showing us how he is still very VERY much power driven, and will stop at nothing to get control. he may be bound now, but in season two i think we’re gonna see a lot of him trying various means to break deals. i doubt he will be the big boss at the end of the season, but he’s playing his own game, and he is CRACKING. he’ll be violent, have an even quicker temper, charlie is going to try to help him but he’ll refuse. his mouth is sewn shut, so he can’t say WHY he’s so upset, but everyone will know something is wrong.

good GOD that was long

TLDR: “i think when he first got to hell he sold his soul to make it easier to gain his own power. but in some way his power isn’t HIS. it still is on a leash.”

[dearestones]

One Step Ahead (Yandere! Russia x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, implied kidnapping. 

Anonymous Request: Can i req one shot about yandere russia accidentally met his runaway darling (that escape 2 days ago) on train and what his next move

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You should have run when you had the chance. 

Years ago, when you had first met Russia, you had been just as nervous as the rest of your coworkers upon introduction. It was hard not to freeze up and back away at the very sight of him—over six feet tall and with a presence that demanded respect and attention. Even if you had exchanged minimal pleasantries, you felt your heart seize in your throat at the thought of continued conversation. 

That day, you vowed to never get on his bad side. 

However, while first impressions may have colored your perceptions of him at first, you found that Russia was a rather hilarious person once you got used to his blunt nature and dark humor. Witty and well read, whenever the both of you found each other alone (rare occasions, but you found yourself looking forward to them), Russia would give you battered books filled with his homeland’s poetry. Under hushed breath as other Nations milled around the room with political favors and current events in mind, Russia would translate bits and pieces of his favorite poems. 

Pushkin, Pasternak, Nabakov.

Krylov, Lermonov, Yesenin.

Derieva, Dushkova, Ivinskaya. 

You would have never known this had you not given Russia a chance, but his voice was comforting and soft. The way he would read in his native tongue first was to immerse you into his homeland’s most precious written words. Afterwards, as you would roll around the syllables and hushed breaths in your mind to try and recall the correct translation, he would gently transition into your native tongue. At first, his attempts were clumsy, but to know that he was willing to translate his most famous poetry into a tongue that wasn’t refined as his, filled you with warmth. Even as he apologized for his stumbling grammar and tenuous grasp on your vocabulary, you found yourself endeared. 

In time, you also began toting around books of poetry from your homeland. Like him, you would start with a hushed, reverent tone in your own tongue before transitioning into his native Russian. Before long, these private poetry sessions extended from the short breaks in meetings to scheduled rendezvous that could take you from cute cafes to expensive restaurants. 

Your other Nation friends were somewhat amused, but wary of the Russian’s intentions. Yet, they noted that your abilities to speak in the Slav’s tongue was becoming more fluent rather than practical. Furthermore, the interest in his culture and prolific bodies of literature had gone from professional curiosity to something bordering on close friendship. Yes, you had told your closest friends and colleagues, in the political arena Russia was a foe not to be ignored, but as a person who needed companionship just as anyone else? He was just a man. 

What you didn’t expect from such a man, was the treatment that followed afterward. 

Perhaps if you weren’t so loud about your friendship with Russia, if your friends hadn’t been so keen on butting into your affairs… Maybe if you had decided not to indulge in Russian poetry from the very beginning, you could have escaped without any hard feelings. 

The fact of the matter was this: 

Russia could be kind, but he had the choice to strip you away from everything you held dear. 

Russia could be gentle, but he also had the capacity for cruelty far beyond your imagination. 

Russia could have courted you and you would not have been the wiser had it not been for the fact that he felt slighted by your words. 

Did you not realize that after all the time spent with him that you could no longer be friends? Russia loved his literature beyond anything else in the world? The words of his patriots had uplifted not only his hearts, but also the souls of countless citizens living in his lands. Just because you were a fellow Nation that happened to stay with him during breaks in meetings didn’t mean that he would read to them about poetry and provide a translation in the language that most reminded them of home. 

No.

He only did that for you because you were special. 

Could you see him doing that for Lithuania? For America? For China?

You were special and he reserved that title just for you. How dare you throw that back in his face and claim that you were merely friends!

So, Russia took you. 

He hid you away in the depths of his wintry lands and away from prying eyes. From time to time, you would move from different abodes, from dacha to dacha, region to region. There was not one moment that you would be allowed to head back to your homeland, not without Russia’s permission at least. 

On one evening, after a few weeks of getting used to living near one of his cities, you finally got the courage to sneak out and board a train. It had taken some time, quick thinking, and gentle persuasion, but you had done it. Preparation had been tricky, but you managed to score a rucksack with a number of practical articles of clothing, documentation that proved that you were the representative of your home, and money. A part of you felt bad for stealing the money, but at this point, it was either you would go home or not at all.

And to many Nations who had the misfortune to be taken away to another Nation’s household, that was basically imprisonment and a one way road to a slow, but painful existence. It was rare for Nations to die when withheld for too long from their native soil, but it wasn’t unheard of. 

(It was a good thing that regeneration was available. However, it wasn’t exactly viable because it was a lengthy process that took up too much energy).

After two days of alternating from trekking around on foot and hitchhiking, you finally boarded a train. The platform was densely crowded, the packed bodies talking to each other about their plans and other inane chatter. You paid them no mind. Amidst the crowd, you were sure to be invisible. 

Finally, after what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time, you and the crowd began to head inside. Lugging your rucksack on your back, you passed by several compartments until you reached one that was empty. Inside, you took note of the available amenities before settling yourself onto the bed. While you had initially felt bad about the money that you took, you wanted revenge. Was booking the most expensive overnight train petty and dangerous? Probably, but after the torture Russia had put you through, you thought that it was appropriate. 

The worst that Russia could do once you were finally back home was to make accusations and point fingers. International incidents were supposed to be the product of human affairs, what Nations did between themselves on a purely personal level was up to the parties involved. 

Content now that you were on your way to nearest neighboring country who could help you, you unpacked a few of your essentials and began to settle in for the night. 

You were finally free. 

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.

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Russia was a patient man. 

Not many people knew that, but while he was quick to anger, he let the rage freeze and crystallize in his veins, the shards of ice hardening his heart. It had been a while since someone had incurred his wrath quite like this, but he knew from the telltale signs of his political aides and secretary shying away from him, that his temper was slowly bleeding into his normally personable disposition. If he was feeling charitable, he would have felt sympathetic, but at the thought of his lover traipsing away in the dead of night without so much as a goodbye, but with at least two months’ worth of his salary in their hands, he thought himself justified when he yelled at his secretary for their inefficient organization. 

Today, he was to board a train and attend a conference in his capital city. While he would rather search for his dearest lover, he knew that this meeting had to take top priority. If any of his neighbors or God forbid America found out that not only had he kidnapped one of their fellow Nations but also lost them… Russia was always ready for an altercation, but he would rather not have a repeat of the Cold War. 

As many of his citizens and a number of tourists gathered on the platform, he kept himself preoccupied at the very back of the crowd nearest to the train station. He arrived fifteen minutes early, keen on keeping to his appointment and knowing that if he stayed a moment longer, his volatile energy would have caused the humans under his direct command to be more skittish than usual. Poor things, them.

As he glanced up from his phone, his eyes scanned the growing crowd. Young children tagged along with their adult companions while a few couples mingled and held each other. At the sight, Russia felt his heart harden once more, the ice in veins refusing to melt even as he heard someone whisper about their plans for a future date. Moments before Russia could tune out the rest of the world, his eyes caught sight of a particular person who tried to keep themselves in the very middle of the crowd.

Now, normally this sort of person would have escaped Russia’s notice long before now, but he couldn’t help but stare. 

That rucksack. 

That coat. 

The stance. 

The figure underneath that heavy coat that was meant to conceal height and width.

Could it be…?

Suddenly, the crowd began surging forward onto the train, the person that Russia was observing followed suit. Hurriedly, Russia pushed forward, neglecting to act the part of a polite politician as he carelessly bumped into the humans who dared to get in his way. Had they no idea that they were in the presence of a Nation on a mission?

Woe to those who thought it prudent to demand recompense for his actions.

And hell to the rest of the train if he found out that the person he was tailing was not his beloved.

Close as a shadow, but not so close as to arouse suspicion, Russia trailed behind the figure. At this point, when he saw the person walking in the same rhythm as his lover, when he heard them mutter something under their breath, and when he paid careful attention to the rucksack on their back, he knew it was them. It had to be!

When his lover rounded the corner and faced their compartment door, Russia took note of the number and placement, carefully withdrawing from the area before his lover could see him. 

As he steadied the heavy beating of his heart, Russia flexed his large hands within his woolen gloves. He was feeling poetic and emotional, but he thought that the ice that froze his blood was steadily melting. 

He felt alive again.

But, if he were to have you in his arms again, he would truly be free.

As he strode back to his assigned compartment, he unlocked his phone and began contacting certain people and Nations for a few favors. 

You had missed out on last night’s poetry session. Perhaps you should rectify that, no?

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DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

HETALIA AXIS POWERS/WORLD SERIES MASTERLIST

[miss-bvnny]

And what if none of their souls were saved? They went to their maker impeccably shaved

My own little spooky challenge for the month!! Two of my favorite things: Sweeney Todd 07, and giving fictional characters government assigned fursonas!!

Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett - Dalmatian and Red fox

When I started this, I KNEW I wanted Todd to be an animal that was black and white. The monochromatic theme in Depp's version of Sweeney is SO Tim Burton that I wanted to preserve it. ALMOST settled on a skunk, but the thought of dalmatian spots mixing with blood spots was TOO cool of a concept in my eyes. TBH there WAS a time when I was tempted to make him a fox, because Sweeney TODD. Get it? But I held off because I didn't want to reuse specific animals TOO much. Speaking of which-

Mrs Lovett was always a fox from the first second. It fits her entire character (Seductive, trickster, lots of red, not to be trusted) FAR too well. The way her ears are posed are also supposed to bring a pair of horns to mind. Something DEEPLY wrong with this woman <3333

Lucy Barker/Miserable Woman - Afghan hound

PROBABLY a very uninspired and obvious choice, but...I wanted to draw ''hair ears'' lmao. Sweeney describes her blonde hair as one of the only things he remembers about her, so I wanted a dog breed that naturally had long blonde hair about it. I de-saturated her colors for her ''Miserable Woman'' look to make her look sadder and dirtier.

Anthony and Johanna - Mutt and Golden dalmatian

Yes I KNOW they look like Scamp and Angel okay. The inspiration was intentional but I might've accidentally strayed...TOO close to the source.

Johanna was one of two characters that took me on a bit of a trip. First she was an Afghan just like Lucy, then she was a doe, but I decided to have a little more fun with her. I made her a golden dalmatian, with the ''dalmatian'' coming from her father and the ''Golden'' coming from her mother. I imagined she's a bit like Oddball from 102 Dalmatians, where she's actually ''blank'' aside from the spots on her face and the two on her shoulder (she gets these ones from Todd) The black on her ear is also from Todd. I could have chosen the easy way out and made her look like her mother, but in my own silly way I thought it'd be fucked up if she looked like her father, considering the scene they share near the end of the movie.

Anthony is a sailor, so I gave him a very ''Sea dog'' mutt look. I just kind of...combined a bunch of traits and characteristics that I thought would work for him. You can see a LITTLE of Toughy from LATT in him, only because I liked the eye patch and all the scruff.

Tobias Ragg (aka Toby) - Bat

Toby was a fun one!! Oh, look how adorable he is!!! Since Toby has the final kill of the movie, and he kills Todd at that, I wanted him something small and cute but...potentially very dangerous. I settled on a bat, because they're very cute and they can carry rabies!!

And yes, that's his wig he's carrying. Didn't know how to portray him holding a pie, and I wasn't about to draw him drinking a bottle of gin, so I thought his little wig might be cute. He was honestly one of my favorites to draw <3

Adolfo Pirelli - Ring-tailed lemur

Pirelli is a ring-tailed lemur for two reasons. The first reason, is because since all the other animals are quadrupeds, having a bipedal animal felt more ''exotic'' to go with how he's seen as very special and from out of town. It makes him stick out naturally as someone of note.

The second reason he's a lemur.......is because he's played by Sacha Baron Cohen in 07.

Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin - Hyena and Vulture

Yeah I'm just gonna come out and say it - Beadle Bamford is one of my fav characters in this movie so I made him a Hyena out of pure favoritism. Having Timothy Spall play him the same year he was Nathaniel in Enchanted was just for me, I think.

Originally, Turpin was a lion. Because...Bamford's a hyena...and they're the villains...sooooooo....yeah. And I WOULD have stuck with that, but....he's described as a vulture in No Place Like London. And while I knew my designs didn't have to adhere to that...I felt like ignoring it would have been stupid on my part. Glad I stuck with it, since...I gotta admit it works REALLY well for him. I've never drawn a vulture before, and it was fun to try something new anyway <3

[xiseyes]

where one might find cathedrals

You view the world in an extraordinary way. You look for the beauty in the air and the poetry in the trees. You catch poetry where others say there is none. You find cathedrals in broken glass bottles. You bring their shards up to the light and gasp at the beauty of color that shines through it. Even broken things, even old things, even ugly things, are beautiful to you. For all you do is wax poetry. You think and breathe and speak and write in poetry. It is all you do and all you are. You are surrounded by it. You are overflowing with it. It comes out of you in waves, overflowingly. It comes into you like the first gasp of air of a newborn child. You need poetry to breathe. You need poetry to live. You have such a way with words. In fact, some people say it is like you swallowed up a thesaurus or a dictionary or two. In truth, you have not, and you would not recommend doing so. Your vocabulary may be expanded, and your words may enrapture all who come across it, but you did not swallow up a dictionary or two. Maybe three. I jest, I jest. You speak the language of art. You understand it as its creator intended. You understand it as the emotions put behind it. You understand the brevity, the choice of words, the lack of it. You understand every stylistic choice. You understand the intention behind each work, and you feel the impact of it in full force. You feel it all, hear it all, see it all. You could almost taste the imprint of a soul on each work. You understand art in a way that goes beyond words, beyond emotions, beyond intention itself. You see it for its value. You see it for its meaning. You see it for its purpose. All of which it has inherently. You understand it all. Everything you add or omit, every brushstroke, pause, comma, word. Every little detail. It is all intentional. You know perfectly well how to create, how to manipulate, and how to utilize these literary tools to further the quality of your art. Perhaps it is why you have no true magnum opus, for all your works are masterworks. For every piece of work you have ever done is itself a masterpiece. You write, you speak, you soliloquy, you monologue, you rave like a poet possessed. You speak in tongues. You ramble with a touch of controlled madness, with passion. Pure and unbridled passion. You will find that there is so much depth, so much meaning, and so many layers to you and to what you create. You are a poet, but you, too, are a living poem. All one would ever want to do after meeting you is to peel back your layers, dissect the meanings in your words and actions, learn the subtext between them, annotate your thoughts, and understand you completely. But can one truly understand one as enigmatic as you? After all, you are meant to understand, not to be understood.

Want to add this to your playlist?

say yes say yes say yes here

[lunarreverb]

Anyone who follows my BG3 musings probably knows I'm not a fan of the Ascended Astarion ending. (We're not arguing about A!Astarion vs Spawnstarion right now). Although I find most things about the A!Astarion ending unpleasant, I was just thinking about one facet of it that I actually find weirdly funny-

It's believable that our companions in the game find our Tavs/Durges attractive and react to them as being beautiful by default. It's pretty hard to go too wacky in the character creator, after all, and most of our Tavs and Durges ARE somewhere between pretty and objectively sexy as hell. And, some of them happen to be both beautiful and spooky, real hot goth babes, or else are very imposing. But, I was actually gobsmacked when there were no automatic cosmetic differences after A!Astarion turns a romanced Tav/Durge into a spawn? This is a game that does not hesitate to confer new textures and eye colors on you as consequences for other choices. Color me surprised that spawn-hood for Tav/Durge does not at LEAST turn whatever natural eyeballs you have left, red.

(I guess the premise is that his super-vampireness allowed A!Astarion to keep Tav/Durge cosmetically intact? He does mention something-or-rather about not improving on them, but I dunno if having no cosmetic or mechanical changes for a turned player was an intentional story choice as much as it was Larian not wanting to actually get into all the tedious details of Tav/Durge being undead now for like, a handful of hours of end-game gameplay.)

(Aside from the running animation, I know about the running animation)

Anyway, while I can suspend disbelief that everyone in Faerûn thinks that my Tav is pretty, I just cannot suspend my disbelief when A!Astarion declares that this

crayon box buffet of a person,

squishy animal with bright colors signaling that she is poisonous to mid-tier predators, don't eat her,

clown-colored unclown,

smurf with eyeliner and horns,

somehow, as-is, fits the bill of being anyone's ~Dark Consort~

From his dark tower or whatever, he will rain fear and terror on our enemies, while Tav, his ~Dark Consort~ stands beside him, a menacing bowl of Froot Loops in a gothic castle

wheeze

And I mean yes! Obviously! She would have had to have made some fucked up decisions to even be in that situation, so her soul would be tainted, and obviously a Tav is a very powerful level 12 whatever by the end of the game, so most anybody who knows her by reputation would be right to be at least a little impressed. But? First impressions? MY Tav is still a goddamn rainbow sprinkle disaster gremlin. A prismatic glitter tiefling. Astarion. Do you see her? Did her bright, unnatural colors and fashion sense burn out your retinas? Looking at my Tav and trying to picture her seriously existing near the head of his self-serious spooky terror army of bats and ghouls, just. Cracks me up

[femmchantress]

So I finished Dark Souls II and its DLC and I have a lot of feelings about this game.

Not to be one of those bitches, but I genuinely do think it has become my favorite Dark Souls game of the trilogy - though that isn't to say it's technically the best in all measurable categories. It's my favorite, but it does have failures and it does have categories in which it just blatantly fails to measure up to its sister games.

But the game itself was just such an interesting experience all around. It's the entry in the series I was the least familiar with going in, so a lot of the experience was with fresh eyes. Its color palette is just stunning in its unique melancholy, not quite as monochromatic with shocks of bright contrast as Bloodborne, not quite as fully articulated in its most minute of details and intent as Elden Ring, but beautiful all the same with its melancholic entwining of dawn and dusk. Everything feels as though it is dying or just being born, which ties wonderfully into the game's opening tale of a new fate found within the loss of your mortal life.

I really appreciate how much effort was taken in crafting a story that was more of a progression of moods than it was a concrete tale. Like, yes there are proper nouns and chronicled actions, but they take the backseat to the emotions the game wants you to feel. This does mean that the game tanks pretty hard on its NPCs that aren't immediately relevant to the plot (everyone who isn't the Emerald Herald, Nashandra, and Vendrick), with a few exceptions.

Lifegems!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love you lifegems, I love you so much. Please everyone praise my baby, my beautiful children: lifegems - they're SUCH a welcome addition to the game that adds an additional layer of choice and strategy to healing.

There's much to be said about the composition of individual boards and enemy placement and the decision to have mobs despawn after enough kills, but I'm tired and sad so instead I'll just list a handful of items and mechanics I really enjoy (bonfire asthetics, lifegems, attack animations, stat and level up redistribution, NPC summons, intense flexibility to how you approach the boards, fast travel) and don't enjoy (the presentation of Majula as a central hub but with many of the key merchant NPCs spread haphazardly across the map, merchants in general feeling ill thought out in what they sell, damage and mob placement can be a bit excessive at times).

[star-going-supernova]

STAR! STAR I LOVE IT I LOVE IT! Gosh that fic was amazing body and soul whole once more tell me your thoughts of the game! Your ideas! I NEED ANGRY DAD HENRY WITH AN AXE CHASING AFTER WILSON FOR WHAT HE DID TO HIS INK DEMON SON PLEASE!!!

Joey you lost dad rights Audrey and bendy are Henry’s kids now

Friend! Thank you!! I’m glad you enjoyed it, I had an absolute blast writing it. Saw the art and was like, “WOW, I need to write something like that right now immediately.” 

I think the game is awesome! They outdid themselves! I’m in the middle of a second watch-through with a more in-depth exploration of the game, and I’m really enjoying seeing it all again. I originally just breezed through a no-commentary video from someone who had clearly finished it before and did everything very quickly, because! I had no intention of falling back in the fandom! A friend asked if I was going to watch it and that she was going to, so I figured I’d just check it out for the sake of it!

(spoilers below, if you missed the spoiler tag)

But then Henry was in it?? HECK. But even beyond Henry’s inclusion, I really like Audrey, I love baby Bendy, and the visuals are incredible. I don’t even mind that it was the same “animator gets trapped in the studio, needs to survive and escape” premise because I felt that the differences built on the original rather than copied it. 

My only complaints, therefore, are extremely minor. One, I don’t love that they made the Lost Ones hostile. They were my shivering, skeletal, mostly silent, tragic babies in the first game! The deep despair they exuded just really hit me hard, so I’m kinda meh that they have a mindless sort of violence now. That’s what the Searchers are for. That being said, I did like that some had personalities. 

Two, the Ink Demon. “Bendy.” Whatever you want to call him. His wandering in the original was probably one of my favorite parts, so I wasn’t a huge fan of how he only seemed to appear for scripted events, and even then, you didn’t really even see him most of the time, just heard him growling. And c’mon… “The Ink Demon is coming. Hide.” Really? What happened to the player needing to pay attention, listening for the heartbeat and watching out for his inky wall shadows? And then hearing the heart-attack inducing music when he spotted you? I think it would have been cool if they just had that darkness and the warmth being drained out of the color, and preferably, that heartbeat. I did like his voice, though, it’s a good choice for him with the emphasized demonic appearance.

Still unsure about his new design, to be honest. I really liked his tall skeletal form and the way he sort of trudged around. I don’t hate it or anything, I just don’t know if I like it, lol. 

Now on to my ideas!! Angry dad Henry is actually one of the other stories I’m working on! Along with one where everything is nice and nothing hurts and Joey just one day says to Henry “I want to make a child with the Ink Machine” and Henry has to take several very deep breaths before choking out “I’ll get right on that.” There’s another I haven’t started yet but the premise is that Allison actually remembers pre-Wilson stuff like Henry does and she breaks him out (inspired specifically by a shot in Rockit Music’s song “Revive My Soul”) so it’s her, Henry, and Tom running around the studio pre- and during Audrey. 

I also want to do something with either Audrey asking Henry about Joey or Henry meeting Joey’s memory ghost thing. Maybe both. 

But yes, Joey has lost all dad rights and Henry will be calling dibs! Sorry, them’s the rules! 

[andersonfilms]

before i start the yap, i would just like to say this is like the third sevika fic i've read and might i just say, my bar for sevika fics are set extremely high now. from the beginning to the end, the pace in which this was written was absolute perfection. i enjoyed reading every single line. this one had me hooked from the first desc of the reader. you have no idea what that means, coming from a tall girl — we love it. there's so many nuances, the detail GOD THE DETAILLLSSSS. i'm a sucker for them, that's no secret, but they really do shine in this fic in every single way. the sweetness in this fic is rotting my teeth, too sweet if i have one more bite i will simply perish. gladly, i will though. seriously, i cannot say this enough this is such a knock out of a fic. this is literature that everyone should aspire to write. there's so much raw emotion in this, the overwhelming themes of loneliness, truly feeling like you are going to be alone, feeling unwanted, and never feeling like the choice. i'm a bit of an emotional writer, tbh i kind of get off to it but that's another conversation, but that's why this one hits me in the gut so much. sorry this reblog has taken five years, i really want to read this one slowly and intentionally, soaking in each paragraph. gotta say, clearly, it didn't disappoint one bit. now off i got to more specific yapping as i cite my favorite little paragraphs that i will be thinking about for awhile.

it’s not that you’re not pretty, but you’re just so different from babette’s girls. you’re bigger and taller than them, trading in the slim curves of their bodies for thick muscle that coats your thighs and biceps. and you act differently, too. you’re not as sweet as them, and it honestly baffles you that they can always manage to treat their rudest customers with the utmost respect.

okay, you got me, m'already within .001 seconds of reading this. we need strong, big, and tall readers. i'm thankful for the contribution. also, not having the sterotypical perfect reader is such a breath of fresh air. not everything in life is so black and white, hence people get mad, irritated, and sometimes bite back. that's just life and this is already breathing such realism into it already......and managing rude customers......the greatest challenge one could face. sinking my fangs into this and gulping every once of soul and pumping it into my lifeless corpse (yes imma vampire) i love you wrote reader not fragile or small

we need the representation of bigger and taller readers with these bigger and taller women. at the end of the day, most fanfiction has physical descriptors, whether it’s intentional or it just slips on. small women has always been the standard and i like you are giving us this. all sizes matter and you did it in a way that was done so beautiful. i quite frankly could not get enough of it.

it’s not a real family, but it’s the closest you’ve ever had. they look out for you and you do the same for them, quick to drag away any of the old men who harass them and scare them away with the sharp edges of your knuckles.

i love love love love looovvveeeeee the aspect of a found family. as someone who is a queer who has a family who isn't the most supportive, a found family is so important. it's needed for survival for the queers who don't have a family who loves us unconditionally, but we do have a family we choose who will loves us for who we are. i think it's really beautiful how this is woven within the story. it adds such a beautiful layer to the struggle of being alone, bartending, trying to support yourself. no one can do it alone and emphasis on it is really such a touching moment. honestly, my favorite detail i've read in a long time. can you tell.....i cant stop yapping about this. god, this really just blew me away into another atmosphere.

the girls don’t hear you, to your luck, too busy smooshing their brightly colored lips over sevika’s to see which color suits her the most, while she trembles and blushes with a vibrator between her legs. you practically run to the end of the hall to escape the noise, sitting against the wall and twiddling your thumbs in an attempt not to cry.

um ennabear????? sos????? m'literally fainting this is entirely too sexy for me to handle. i'm literally in shambles. vibrator to cunt you will always be so sexy to me. this is so fucking gay, right from the beginning and im fucking jorking it. i'm fr stull picturing this um!!!!!! anyways, yeah, i'm fucking gay and loving every single moment of this.

you settle for both. crying into your pillow as you shove one of your hands down your pants. the release is satisfying, but only for a quick second before you’re wishing it were her, or anyone really. the water temperature in your apartment building is awfully cold, and you shiver as you scrub yourself down. your nipples pucker and harden as you run your hands over your body, imagining sevika touching you instead. any attempt at sleeping is useless, your mind races with different possible scenarios. you might be upset that she’s not in love with you now, but what if she caught you staring at her while she was still dressing herself, or even worse, lingering outside of that room and listening to them get her off? at least she doesn’t hate you, right?

the angst! m'such an #angstdyke and i never get to indulge in it, thank you for providing me with the service. 'cause havent we all gotten off to someone we wanted but couldn't have.....it's actually a little too real. it's the desperation of wanting to be the object of desire instead of the one doing all the yearning. the power of jealousy and lusting is one heinous bitch. sometimes, all thoughtful reasoning vanishes before our very eyes and we can only accept the fate we have been subjected to. delicious. also, not to mention the guilt and shame that follows off to getting off to someone you believe you can never have? it's almost like a tortured, pervy, sliver of yourself being pushed to the brink as you try to rid yourself of the yearning nature that takes over. GAHHH. this is written so well. i love it so much, ennabear.

she’s such a sweet soul, and she’s so wise it makes you want to take notes on everything she says. she tells you crazy stories, laughs, cries, and gives you advice before returning to her office for the night. so you’re left alone, eyeballing various flavors and liquors into you glass in attempt to make a cocktail that’s sweet enough for your little fairy.

this is such a small a silly thing, but i love the fact reader is close to these women when they are under the guise of these characters being with sevika even when they like sevika. we love to see it! jealousy can have healthy limits. i know that's right. hehe, yeah, we love it.

“your favorites aren’t in tonight,” you warn her just as she steps in. “one of ‘em caught the flu and spread it to the rest.” “shit,” she huffs, “d’you think i could have a shot with the hot bartender?” you scoff at this, cheeks heating up involuntarily. “i’m not a hot bartender, just a regular bartender. and i don’t offer any… services, if that’s what you’re wondering.” “agree to disagree.” she winks, planting herself at the stool right in front of you. “and no worries, i’ll take a whiskey.”

okay sevika comin in hot. cum in me. ha. ha. what? who said that? :sideeye: but fr, she said i'm done so fucking bad let me flirt with you now that i have the courage. if sevika called me hot, i would NAWT know how to function. i'd be the little sparks when you pour coke on a live battery. fr chat, i would not be surviving this conversation. also, i really admire the line of sevika being forward as a dom but backing off like a sub. it really showcases the layer of duality in within her. yes, she's fucking sevika and could pull anyone she wants with her hot ass self, but it's always different when you geniuenly like someone. it's easy to get caught up and lost in the moment, almost as if her moves are caculated, trying to get an inkling of how you feel. it's such a cute interaction. whether it was intentional or not, m'eating it regardless. NOMNOMNOMNOM.

“you haven’t seen me dragging old perverts out of here by the hem of their t-shirts, that’s why.”

HELLLLL YEAHHHHHHH. READER CARRYING THEIR OWN WEIGHT. THEY SAID BACK THE FUCK UP I GOT IT, THIS DUMB ASS BITCHES. I'LL THROW THEM OUT. #heheslay

you giggle again and punch her flesh shoulder over the counter, praying it’s not painfully aware how strongly you’re blushing right now. “no way you’re sitting here telling me about how badly you wanna get in my pants, when you just kicked out your own prostitutes.” she shrugs, the scars on the side of her face slightly scrunching up as she smiles. “i can’t help it,” she laughs. “you charm me too much.”

#SCARMENTION. oh. ohhhhhh. m'acting like a complete fool right now. the dialogue in this fic is so entirely well placed and polished. what the fuck. this actually goes so hard....i'm hard. but honestly, i'm still at the scar mention and i will be there for awhile.

for once, you sleep soundly, your mind is at a perfect balance to do so. giddy enough to not be overcome with anxiety, but embarrassed enough to have some sort of weight in your gut, not letting the butterflies carry you away. you’re in such a deep sleep, that you’re not amused when the phone rings again. peeling the comforter off of you, you rise and yank the phone off of the wall, getting deja vu from only a few nights ago.

the butterflies carrying you away. this line is so cunt. i just needed to point out the cuntiness. it’s for dykescience. yesyes.

“i missed you,” she sighs, heading straight for her usual barstool. “i… missed you too. did they tell you they weren’t gonna be here tonight?” you ask.

ohhhhhh she’s already down so bad……babe asking what are we after one conversation 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 it’s the definition of lesbianism and dykeculture and i’m all here for it. truer words have never been spoken. yes, i also get obsessed after one conversation. the line of lust and love is actually so fine. i think time is the real teller of what’s real and what isn’t, who stay and who leaves, anyways, im getting off topic into a completely different topic. disregard my nonsense (ray’s version) but fr this made me giggle 😭 sevika down bad and she hasn’t even had the power of our pussy yet. subby sub sevika……come out come out whenever you areeeee. i see youuuu. i see the slivers of her being presented through the dom nature….i see the vision.

you slide her a usual glass of whiskey, and she thanks you. “i never got to tip you last night.” she frowns.

THE TIP REFERENCES IN THIS ENTIRE FIC. ITS MAKING ME LAUGH SO HARD. is my humor that of one as a grade school boy? possibly. but i will still giggle. hehe. like when you’re in class and stupid boys can’t take it seriously bc of the innuendos, yeah that’s me. anyways. moving on lets pretend i said none of this. but fr. the tip references have me like 💀 we love the enna humor making an appearance. i’m eating it all up. a gourmet dish served guys. come and read this…..or else 🔪🩸

it isn’t long before you have her pinned against the countertop, shoving your tongue down her throat as she whimpers into your mouth. a loud crash echoes through the room, and you shiver as soon as you feel the whiskey splattering against your pants. “fuck,” you grunt. she whines when you pull away to assess the damage, but the glass isn’t shattered too much, and there’s only a small puddle under your feet.

THIS IS SUCH A SILLY MOMENT. I APPRECIATE YOU SM FOR THIS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA. bc when shit gets heated yeah dumb shit is gonna occur, it’s just life. no need for the whiskey though, this romance already has me wet. relax, won’t need the whiskey lubricant tonight. oh god yeah i’m just getting delirious now. but fr, i love this too much one might say. it’s really raw. a true tribute to just how life and circumstance is. sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches even when you want it to be perfect, sometimes it just isn’t but it doesn’t mean it’s any less important or invaluable. delicious. delicious. delicious. delicious. i need to lick it clean off my fingers it’s saur good. i’ll say it over and over until im blue in the face. yeah. y’all can hear me until i completely lose my voice. this piece of literature it’s too good for me to shut up about. #sevikarealnesserved

with her arms bound, you have more freedom to undress her without her squirming and getting in your way. as soon as her pants are off, you notice a dark, wet patch in the center of her boxers. “like what you see?” she teases. you gulp and nod, suddenly unable to form any words. “get the strap.” she demands. and who are you to say no to her?

YES FUCKING MA’AM. YOU DONT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE. THE FUCK. slobbering over her dark wet patch. um!!!!!!! anyways!!!!!! can’t let horny ray out she’s a menace fr.

something comes over you. something rough and dirty and animalistic. you yank the strap off, hardly bothering to unbuckle it beforehand. she whines again, wishing she still had your cock plugging her up, but she can’t complain when you sit your cunt on top of hers, your shared mixture of slick making an unholy wet smacking sound. never in a million years did you expect sevika’d be such a sacrificial angel, a dirty slut with needs.

a sacrificial angel in dead, a dirty slut with needs. what a fucking bar. brb getting this tattooed along my spine. who are the real enna fans……yeah. that’s right. suck on that. um. okay. but fr this is so sexy, we love the smut at the end. it’s giving desperate fuck we have both been waiting for, so much so i’m gonna nut in minutes on your cunt. the first fuck after awhile always hits as does this. beautiful.

you smack her shoulder playfully, ducking down and settling yourself on her lap for a final makeout session before you have to give up your top duties for the night. not like you care, though, because her arm can do some pretty cool tricks, and she tips you well nearly every night from now on.

THE TIPS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PLEASE MY STOMACHHXHXHXB. I CANT TAKE THIS MADNESNDDJD. all in all, this is so well rounded from start to finish. a perfectly shaped circle with every single word balanced inside of it, each line wrapped around the other so beautifully. such a stunning piece, but that comes as no shock to anyone.

always a treat ♡

SACRIFICIAL ANGEL

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ good evening sevika nation, continuation of this because y’all are enablers who are bad for my screen time… just kidding aaaah i love you horny freaks and i don’t know what i’d do without you <33

cw: bottom dom!sevika x pervert!loser!reader, a tiny bit of voyeurism (if it even counts as that), reader bartends at the brothel, sevika is suchhhhh a flirt, found family trope????, strap usage, bondage, tribbing, etc etc etc. i really am all over the place with this one 🤦 hope u enjoy anyways

word count: 6.8k

you’d been bartending at babette’s for about 3 months when you first saw her. cracking her knuckles as she sauntered in with a wolfish grin, her long torso and even longer legs making her easily tower over the girls she came to see. never once had you felt jealousy toward them. in fact, you thought they had a harder job than you did— dealing with drunk old men who practically abused them and then left without sparing a tip wasn’t a job for just anyone. but now? you’ve never wanted to be one of them more.

it’s not that you’re not pretty, but you’re just so different from babette’s girls. you’re bigger and taller than them, trading in the slim curves of their bodies for thick muscle that coats your thighs and biceps. and you act differently, too. you’re not as sweet as them, and it honestly baffles you that they can always manage to treat their rudest customers with the utmost respect.

sevika comes in a few times a week, such an admirable woman to be in a place like this. she’s always sporting a scowl or a smirk, depending on her attitude for the day, and a fresh new scar or coating of blood on her knuckles. but there’s something you know about her that hardly anyone else does.

sevika doesn’t come to the brothel to fuck, she comes to get fucked. it’s almost impossible to miss, but nearly every night you watch her stroll in with her perfect posture, and then watch her stumble out of the doorway, practically tripping over her feet as she tries to zip up her pants and button up her shirt before anyone can see her half-naked body. hickies and bright red lipstick smudges paint her neck, and she’s still panting as her unsteady legs wobble themselves out of the door and down the street.

the first time you saw her this way, you had to take a breather behind the bar before you got so dizzy you returned home, faking an illness. she turns you on so much it’s hard to believe. and oh, how you’d kill to see what happens behind those closed doors.

to see sevika, all six feet of her warm brown skin and tight muscles on display, legs spread as wide as they can as her sopping cunt sucks in one girls strap, while another shoves a gag in her mouth, taking her hands and tying them together with a scrap of rope. how she’d completely submit to these angels, letting them use her however they please until her vocal cords give out and she’s laying in a pool of her own cum. and how she’d cover herself in that “scary lady” facade again as she leaves, thinking that what happens in that room stays in the room, although you know her secret. and you see it every night, whether it’s real or just another one of your perverted daydreams.

and so she walks in tonight like clockwork. the building is practically empty considering the time, one of the only benefits of working this late is to see her. she never looks your way, though, and why should she? she practically gets fed free drinks from her friends at the last drop, and it’s borderline disgraceful for her to have eyes for a woman like you when she has these gorgeous dolls promising to take good care of her.

they whisk her away in an instant. you’ve gotten to know these girls pretty well, they’re all sweethearts who crowd around your bar at the end of their shift. crystal, the shortest one, is so good with her words it’s baffling. she can smooth talk anyone into anything, and her friendly flirting never fails to make you giggle. monica, the oldest one, is so witty it almost makes you jealous. your jokes are nothing compared to her quick remarks, and she could easily take you in a fight if you didn’t have a few extra inches on her. ivy, the fairy, as you all call her, is the sweetest little nymph you’ve ever met. she often shares her extra tips with you when times get tough, and she’s always quick to offer you a helping hand behind the bar when you get swarmed.

it’s not a real family, but it’s the closest you’ve ever had. they look out for you and you do the same for them, quick to drag away any of the old men who harass them and scare them away with the sharp edges of your knuckles.

you watch as monica tugs at sevika’s choker like it’s a collar, dragging her away as the other two girls practically dangle off of her muscular arms. it must be a form of torture, watching them disappear behind those doors again. but you sigh and flip over the record that’s slowed to a stop on the turntable, hoping the sweet, melodic jazz will numb your brain long enough to survive the final hours of your shift. you sweep the floors, rinse out the glasses, and wipe down the bar.

without anything else to do, you sit and stare at the big stained glass window in front of you. your mind easily wanders, imagining your warm bed at home, the leftovers you’re gonna devour later, and sevika, as always. if only all of your money could purchase her attention, but even then attention doesn’t always equate to fondness.

your boredom gets to the best of you, and you wander out from behind the bar, peering down the long hallway. in hopes of what? nobody else is in here besides you, sevika, and the girls— not even babette. there’s really no point, but you carry on walking nevertheless. the empty rooms are somewhat eerie, they’re usually so full of love and lust, but now restored to their pristine condition.

you pause in front of the only occupied room of the night, standing just a few yards away from the door. it’s almost silent, but a light giggle breaks the silence, and you almost keel over and sob right there. red-hot jealousy floods your veins, and your whole body trembles as you try your hardest not to let a peep sneak past your lips.

the girls don’t hear you, to your luck, too busy smooshing their brightly colored lips over sevika’s to see which color suits her the most, while she trembles and blushes with a vibrator between her legs. you practically run to the end of the hall to escape the noise, sitting against the wall and twiddling your thumbs in an attempt not to cry.

so that’s why you wanted to take a stroll down the hall so badly. you fucking perv, you think to yourself. lucky you didn’t get your ass caught, get a damn grip!

bolting upright, you decide to return to the bar. babette want’s a new recipe anyways, might as well do it right now, and if you mess up a few times it’ll be an excuse to get plastered on the clock. with your head in your hands, you begin your trek back to the lobby. what an evil, evil curse comparison is.

then the curtains fly open a few feet in front of you, and you almost audibly gasp at the distraction before you stifle it with the back of your hand. sevika gets playfully pushed out of the room, her tits on full display as she fumbles with the buttons on her shirt. you swear you black out for a second, or maybe even a full few minutes, who’s counting?

she giggles to herself and sighs as she gets a few buttons closed, her weakened legs wobbling under her weight as she carries herself down the rest of the long hallway and out of the door. you follow behind her slowly and silently, careful not to go to fast or make even the slightest noise.

she doesn’t see you as she slips out of the door, mind too hazy to think about anything other than the pure pleasure pumping through her veins. as soon as the coast is clear, you dash back behind the jar, pouring a few mixers in a glass and swirling them around in an attempt to make it seem like you were doing anything.

monica, ivy, and crystal trail out of the room after a few minutes of catching their breath. the fairy takes a seat in front of you, smiling and giggling as monica wipes some dark brown lipstick off of crystal’s neck.

“that woman is crazy,” she laughs. “what’re you making?”

“i dunno, just something new.”

“good! we need something sweeter on the menu.”

“you’re only saying that because you’re sweet and you like other sweet things.” you tease.

“of course, that’s why i like you so much. and besides, all of the drinks here are catered toward old, cranky men.”

“yeah, because that’s who all of your customers are.” you say, rolling your eyes.

“not all of them,” crystal cuts in. “and certainly not her.”

“did she tip you well?” you wonder.

“oh, fuck yeah, she always does.”

“i think she’s the richest woman in the whole city.”

“damn,” you smirk, not wanting your jealousy to peek out through your face.

“it’s okay, we’ll buy you something special.” monica winks. you roll your eyes, although completely embracing the way they spoil you.

as soon as the girls are out of the door, you finish locking up before heading out too. you’re so full of emotions, you have no idea which one to prioritize. should you cry into your pillow as soon as you fall asleep, jealous and angry that you’ll never get to have sevika in the way you want? or should you celebrate the fact that you almost saw her completely shirtless, and replay that image in your mind until sleep takes you?

you settle for both. crying into your pillow as you shove one of your hands down your pants. the release is satisfying, but only for a quick second before you’re wishing it were her, or anyone really. the water temperature in your apartment building is awfully cold, and you shiver as you scrub yourself down. your nipples pucker and harden as you run your hands over your body, imagining sevika touching you instead.

any attempt at sleeping is useless, your mind races with different possible scenarios. you might be upset that she’s not in love with you now, but what if she caught you staring at her while she was still dressing herself, or even worse, lingering outside of that room and listening to them get her off? at least she doesn’t hate you, right?

to your luck, the phone rings, a free excuse to be awake at this time of night. you rise and walk to the other side of the room, yanking the phone off of the wall as the cord curls and hangs down.

you yawn. “hello?”

“i can’t come in today,” ivy’s voice crackles through the speaker. “i’m coming down with something, and i think monica is too. maybe i got it from her or, or gave it to—?”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.” you assure her. “get some rest, do you need me to come over?”

“no, crystal said she’d come take care of me. but thank you.”

“okay, call me if you need anything. i love you.”

“i love you too,” she yawns, her voice sounds thick and congested. “and tell my regulars i love them, you could always cover for me if you want.”

“oh, fuck off.” you laugh. “i’m not gonna cover your shift as a prostitute, but get well soon.”

“okay, thank you, sorry if i woke you up.”

“it’s okay, i wasn’t sleeping anyways. i’ll check in soon, okay?”

“okay, bye, goodnight.” she sighs, and you slot the phone back against the wall.

and so the day passes agonizingly slow without any support. it’s a friday, so as soon as it hits 3pm, people flood in to get a good start to their weekend. there are a few girls who you’re friendly with, but you don’t get to know them very well since they’re always leaving at the beginning of your shift. babette comes in, though, and she sits and chats with you to keep you company.

she’s such a sweet soul, and she’s so wise it makes you want to take notes on everything she says. she tells you crazy stories, laughs, cries, and gives you advice before returning to her office for the night. so you’re left alone, eyeballing various flavors and liquors into you glass in attempt to make a cocktail that’s sweet enough for your little fairy.

after about an hour of this, you give up and rinse your glass out with water. none of their regular customers come in tonight, which is strange because usually fridays are their busiest nights. sevika comes in though, she must not have gotten the memo, but you’re not about to complain.

“your favorites aren’t in tonight,” you warn her just as she steps in. “one of ‘em caught the flu and spread it to the rest.”

“shit,” she huffs, “d’you think i could have a shot with the hot bartender?”

you scoff at this, cheeks heating up involuntarily. “i’m not a hot bartender, just a regular bartender. and i don’t offer any… services, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“agree to disagree.” she winks, planting herself at the stool right in front of you. “and no worries, i’ll take a whiskey.”

an eerie silence fills the room, the same one that always lingers in the brothel. you’re practically dying to say something, but you don’t know what to say other than something stupid and embarrassing.

sevika breaks the silence, though, saying “they talk about you a lot, you know.”

“do they?” you pretend to be shocked, but they’re your family, your sisters. of course you talk about each other, who else do you have to be proud of in a world like this?

“yeah. apparently you’re scary as hell but you can crack some mean jokes.”

“sometimes,” you admit with a shy smile. “although it’s mostly just when i’m half asleep at the very end of my shift that i let that side of me come out.”

“will i be lucky enough to see it?”

“maybe if you hang around long enough.”

“you could keep me waiting ‘til the end of time and i’d still be here.” she says, almost too nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes and slide her her whiskey, propping yourself up on your elbows as you study her up close for the first time ever. her mechanical arm is extremely detailed, each nut and bolt have a different important job that can’t function without the others. like you and your sisters.

“although, i have to admit,” she finally says. “i don’t see how you can be scary.”

“you haven’t seen me dragging old perverts out of here by the hem of their t-shirts, that’s why.”

“does it happen a lot?” she asks.

“hell no, you think i let those fuckers live to see another day? to come back in here?” you laugh. “absolutely not.”

“so there’s the humor.” she notices.

“yeah,” you smile. “except i wasn’t joking. and i bet you’d do the same if you’ve ever encountered them.”

“oh, trust me, i have.” she recalls with a grunt. “dumbfucks littering the streets yet topside is concerned about us.”

you hum in response. “it’s really not fair… can i ask you a question?”

“fire away.”

“why do you come in here?” you start. “i mean— no shame, i work here, but you couldn’t have found a better brothel?”

“i dunno, i don’t really care for the better ones. plus, i’ve known babette forever, literally. she’s been around for so long, i enjoy supporting her and her workers.”

“yeah, that checks out.” you sigh, babette really is a sweetheart, she might be the only good thing left about the undercity. “but isn’t it hard not to fall in love with them? how do you do it?”

she pauses for a moment, calculating her answer in her mind first. “i love them and everything they do for me, but i’m not really, into them like that.”

“oh, i’m sorry for assumi—”

“no, i do like girls,” she assures you. “just not them. i like my ladies with a little bit more meat on their bones.” she says with a wolfish grin, eyeing your body up and down.

“oh, you stop it!!” you grin back at her, a warm, tingly feeling flushing over your body.

“i didn’t call you a hot bartender for nothing, but i don’t date for looks, anyways. actually, i don’t really date in general, but maybe i just haven’t found the one.” she says, putting a suggestive emphasis on the one. she slides her empty glass toward you and rises from her stool. you’re sad to see her go so early, especially when she just started flirting with you, but oh well. you can’t force her to stay.

“i better head out, silco’s got me going up to topside tomorrow morning for god knows what. thanks for the chat.” she announces, sliding a few coins your way.

“good luck with that.” you smile. “and if you ever need a drink, you know where to find me.”

she chuckles at you as she shoves the door open, and you see something in her smile that you’ve never seen before. a small gap in between her two front teeth, the cutest little addition to her scary, stoical face. as soon as she’s out of the door, you sit on the ground behind the bar and hold your head in your hands again. jesus christ, was that the love of your life flirting with you? if only she knew how much you liked her.

the idea of calling the girls and telling them what just happened tempts you, but they don’t know that you’re head over heels for her. and what if they are? what if one, or even all three of them see her as more than a customer? you don’t wanna make things weird, so you stand up and head to babette’s office to bid her farewell for the night.

her office is small and dimly lit, but cozy. she smiles at you warmly as you step inside, quickly thanking you for your time earlier, and wishing you a good night. all of your dread seems to float away from your body as you walk home, the bitter frost of the night doesn’t sting your fingertips, but instead the butterflies in your stomach warm them.

if you thought your sleep last night wasn’t restful, tonight is so much worse. not that you mind, though, because the thing keeping you up is sevika’s deep voice repeating things like i didn’t call you a hot bartender for nothing. and you could keep me waiting til the end of time. you can’t help but giggle into your pillow like a lovesick fool, and when the time rolls around again, you can’t wait to go to work. which is something you never thought you’d feel.

you spend your trek to work enjoying the afternoon sun and the birds that chirp into the atmosphere. the girls are all feeling better today— which is a little strange considering it’s only been 24 hours of them being sick— but you don’t question the kinds of drugs they take. they love their job and you love them, so why complain?

a few stragglers hang around your bar as the afternoon turns to evening, and you get a few extra coins from a couple who tips very generously. but your eyes are fixated on the clock, counting down the hours until evening turns to late night, when you get to see sevika. you wish you could ask about her, get to know her more, but who would you ask? you don’t know if she has friends, although she works for silco and practically babysits jinx, but there’s no way in hell you’d ask them, in the rare case you ever come across them.

so you have to settle for her seeking you out behind the bar, which you pray time and time again will happen again. and it does, somewhat, because when she walks in the door tonight, she nods at you with a flick of her head and winks.

sevika winks at you.

the marble countertop of the bar catches you as you almost fall forward. god, i want her to do that again, you think. you sit up on your stool, squeezing your thighs together and widening your eyes in an attempt to be able to see straight. your sisters snatch her away again, but fuck, she looked at you.

for the first time since she started coming in, you don’t feel jealous. you feel hopeful. sevika knows you now, and she likes you, even if she’s not obsessed with you in the same way you are with her. the back of your hand muffles your smile, you can’t wait until her 60 minutes are up and you get to see her again, and you really hope she winks at you again. or does something even better, like blows you a kiss, or gets down on one knee with a ring, or recites you a personal love poem.

but the gods are on your side tonight, because the four of them saunter out of their suite about half an hour early and come to surround your bar. they all have this awkward expression on their faces, one that says they’re guilty and they need your help keeping a secret. you push it aside though, because they probably just think it’s weird that you’re seeing them in such a vulnerable state. you don’t think it’s weird though. you work at a brothel, for fucks sake, and you’ve seen some pretty crazy things, and it’s not like you’re a virgin, although you admittedly don’t have much experience.

“glad to see you all are feeling better,” you greet. “and sevika, welcome back.”

she smiles, her mech arm rattling slightly. the girls all exchange a look at each other, “yeah, thanks.” crystal says, reaching up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around your neck in a hug. monica nudges ivy as she giggles, and sevika grins into her lap, human fingers fiddling with her metal fingers.

“oh fuck, don’t tell me you guys are in trouble again.”

“no, nothing like that.” crystal assures you.

“then what’s with the looks? you guys all look guilty as hell.”

“we’re just glad to see you again, that’s all.” monica smiles, one of her perfect, dark curls falling into her face gracefully.

you cringe, painfully aware that none of their stories are adding up. “so… can i get you anything?” you ask.

“well, uh—”

“not for us—”

“maybe lat—” they all say simultaneously. sevika is silent, giggling as quietly as she can into her lap, and completely avoiding eye contact with you. she looks up and raises her eyebrows at them, a silent signal for them to… do something.

“i think we’re gonna go now, but you two have fun!” crystal says, and they all run back down the hallway, giggling and tripping over one another in their heels as they do.

“what on earth is up with them?” you ask sevika.

“it’s nothing,” she says with a laugh. “or… maybe it’s something? i’m not too sure either.”

you slide her a glass of whiskey, just like you had last night. “this one’s on the house.”

“will you at least let me tip you?”

“well, i’m not saying no.” you grin, and she smiles at you again, and you hope that image of her is burned into your memory forever. she’s beautiful, it’s not hard to recognize that, but it’s a different feeling when you get to admire her up close. like a painting, you see images and replicas of them everywhere, but seeing them with your own eyes is always breathtaking. you can see every brushstroke, every small detail you hadn’t before, and it really comes to life.

“how long have you worked here?” she asks, derailing your train of thought.

“only a few months, but i’ve been bartending for longer.”

“you do an amazing job.” she compliments, flashing one of those grins at you again.

“oh please, you practically live at the last drop, and i poured that whiskey straight out of the bottle.”

she shrugs and rolls her eyes, “shut up and take the compliment.”

you have no choice but to giggle, and if sevika wants you to shut up, you shut up.

“i meant what i said last night— about you being a hot bartender, even though you didn’t seem to believe me.”

“why should i believe you? i wasn’t aware that you knew i existed until last night.” you retort.

“wish it were the same way for me, all i’ve been hearing about is you for months.”

“not my fault you like them so much.”

“i do, but i like you too.”

“i still don’t offer any services, if that’s what you’re getting at.” you say, letting her down easy, although you’d gladly offer her your services, you just wanna play with her for a while.

“of course not.” she smiles. “not unless you change your mind.”

you almost choke on your own spit. your heart pounds in your chest, and you’re 100% sure she can hear it right now. you giggle and hide your face in your hands, trying to keep your mouth shut for a few seconds before you leap over the bar and jump her bones.

“is that what they put you up to? to come sit here and flirt with me?”

“well, i’m not saying no, either. but i’m being genuine.”

you giggle again and punch her flesh shoulder over the counter, praying it’s not painfully aware how strongly you’re blushing right now. “no way you’re sitting here telling me about how badly you wanna get in my pants, when you just kicked out your own prostitutes.”

she shrugs, the scars on the side of her face slightly scrunching up as she smiles. “i can’t help it,” she laughs. “you charm me too much.”

“sevika!” you almost shout, completely baffled and astounded at her flirting. your mouth hangs open as you think of what else you can say, but nothing comes to mind.

“it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but i think you should at least know the effect you have on other people.”

you lean forward on the counter, holding your warm cheeks in your hands. “you should know the effect that you have on people.”

“i do, i’m very aware of it. especially from you.” she taunts leaning forward until your eyes are only inches away from hers. you peek up at her and almost faint, again, because her eyes are such a pretty, soft silver. and her lips are so pretty too, angular and smothered in a rich, deep brown lipstick. she notices you staring at her lips and smirks down at you. “can i kiss you?” she asks.

“i— wha—? yes. please.” you say, desperation and lust lingering in your voice. and her lips are on yours before you can even register it. suddenly all of the thoughts running through your mind, and there are a lot of them, cease to exist. because her lips are on yours, finally, and they’re so soft. she tastes spicy, almost, like tobacco and whiskey, but there’s a hint of something sweet, like honey or cinnamon.

she pulls away first, although you wish the two of you could be conjoined at the lips for the rest of time. “i wanna do that again.” you manage to choke out.

sevika chuckles at you, “not right now. not when you look like you’re about to faint, or die, even.”

“i’m sorry.” you whisper, holding your head in your hands.

“for what?” she asks, a twinge of concern in her voice.

“for making a fool of myself.” you laugh, hands covering your eyes as you refuse to look at her again, because maybe you will die.

“i can’t disagree with that,” she teases, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “but it’s no big deal.”

“sevika. get the fuck out of my bar before you kill me.” you threaten.

“alright.” she obliges, “but i’ll be seeing you tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“get! out!” you whisper shout, lifting your head up to meet her gaze for the last time tonight.

“leaving right now.” she laughs, turning on her heel to exit the building before you faint in her arms.

it takes you a few minutes to reorient yourself, but you take a few deep breaths and small sips of water before the girls come clambering out of their room again. you’re dreading the conversation that’s about to come, especially because you’re not sure if they’re up to something or not.

“sooooo…” ivy prompts. “how’d it go?”

“nothing happened. nothing important, at least.” you answer with a groan, starting to tidy up the lobby before you leave for the night.

“really?” monica frowns. “is that why you’re wearing some new lipstick?”

you sigh and roll your eyes, there’s no getting out of this tonight. “just tell us, please! we wanna know!” ivy begs.

“yeah, we won’t make fun of you too much.” crystal adds.

“okay, yeah, she flirted with me until i got dizzy, and then she kissed me to make it even worse.” you admit. “but i know you fuckers had something to do with it.”

“well, yeah. we had to give her the confidence to do so. she’s had a crush on your for like… forever.” monica grins.

“you guys are liars!” you laugh, exasperated. “stop fucking around with me, please.”

“we’re not fucking around with you, we’re being honest. and you should go home before you start freaking out.”

“i can’t go home yet, i need to finish closing.”

“we’ll do it, get the hell out of here!”

and how could you say no to that? so you leave, and you smile the whole way home as you replay that moment in your head. it was just like you imagined, minus all the parts where you embarrassed yourself. but it doesn’t even matter, the love of your life kissed you. on the lips. even better than her winking at you. better than you could’ve foreseen.

for once, you sleep soundly, your mind is at a perfect balance to do so. giddy enough to not be overcome with anxiety, but embarrassed enough to have some sort of weight in your gut, not letting the butterflies carry you away. you’re in such a deep sleep, that you’re not amused when the phone rings again. peeling the comforter off of you, you rise and yank the phone off of the wall, getting deja vu from only a few nights ago.

“hello?” you ask with a little bit of sass in your voice.

“we can’t come in again, we’re sick… again.” crystal says.

“all of you? but you were fine yesterday.”

“well, it got worse or something, i dunno, but you’re on your own today.”

you sigh, already dreading the fact that your shift is gonna drag on without them. oh well, at least sevika promised she’d be there. “okay…” you bark. “get well soon, call me if you need anything.”

“yeah, bye, good luck!” she almost squeals.

you trudge back to bed, willing yourself to get a few more hours of sleep, although it’s nearly noon and you should get up soon. you ignore the clock, shoving your face in your pillow in an attempt to block the sunlight out from your eyes. but now you can’t sleep, you’re thinking about how you and sevika are gonna be alone together again, but this time you’ll have to face yesterdays events.

when your alarm rings, you groan, and then take a second to scream into your pillow, praying your apartment neighbors don’t worry too much. you dress in your usual work uniform, black shirt, cargos, non-slip shoes. sevika must see something really special in me, you think, because there’s no way she’s choosing me over everyone else in this town.

for breakfast, you guzzle down half of a protein shake followed by two anxiety pills, and then you brush your teeth for an extra few minutes today, just in case. and maybe you accidentally sprayed more perfume than you usually do, but nobody needs to know that. you shove your shoes on, mentally preparing yourself for what could be one of the worst days of your life.

strangely, suspiciously, yet to your luck, none of ivy, crystal, or monica’s regulars come in to visit them. you start to suspect they did it on purpose, although it seems impossible. but if they did, those girls are crazy and you don’t deserve them. in fact, the brothel is empty nearly the whole day. as soon as the other girls clock out, nobody comes in at all. not until sevika shows up when she usually does, and she’s the first drink you pour all day.

“i missed you,” she sighs, heading straight for her usual barstool.

“i… missed you too. did they tell you they weren’t gonna be here tonight?” you ask.

“uhh— yeah, they did. but i wanted to spend my evening with you, anyways.”

“oh, well i’m flattered. but i didn’t know you kept in touch with them like that.”

“well…” she starts, looking to the side in an attempt to conjure up something to say. “never mind.”

you slide her a usual glass of whiskey, and she thanks you. “i never got to tip you last night.” she frowns.

“yeah, sorry, i kinda freaked out on you.”

“it’s okay, i’m sorry if i’m weirding you out or if we’re moving too fast or anything, but i did mean it. i meant what i said and i meant to kiss you, i wasn’t drunk or anything.”

“i meant it too, although i wouldn’t have overreacted if i could’ve helped it.” you giggle, suddenly completely aware of the fact that you’re flirting with her again. right now. and she kissed you. and now you have something together.

“i was thinking i could tip you tonight.” she smirks, eyeing you up and down again.

“oh, please. you know you get free drinks from now on.” you say, rolling your eyes at her kindness.

“i’m honored, although i was thinking about a different way to repay you.” she says, licking her lips as she slowly starts to walk toward you.

you’re frozen in place, your knees tremble as you realize what she means. her nose brushes yours as she finishes approaching you, and you can’t help but lurch forward to connect your lips to hers. she kisses you back with all of her might, and you almost slip and fall as she slides her tongue into your mouth. she tastes even better now. stronger and deeper and sweeter, and you start to crave it as soon as you taste it.

it isn’t long before you have her pinned against the countertop, shoving your tongue down her throat as she whimpers into your mouth. a loud crash echoes through the room, and you shiver as soon as you feel the whiskey splattering against your pants. “fuck,” you grunt. she whines when you pull away to assess the damage, but the glass isn’t shattered too much, and there’s only a small puddle under your feet.

“mmmh…” she whines when your mouths meet again. “let’s take this somewhere— mph!! somewhere else.”

and that’s how you find yourself stripping her naked with your teeth, the two of you sprawled out on a heart shaped bed. her shirts are always short and extremely revealing, but you still gasp and twitch when her abs are finally revealed to you. her v-line is thick and deep and it leads a perfect trail to her dripping hole, as if her thick, dark happy trail wasn’t enough.

“the rope.” she chokes out, and you don’t waste a single second, tying her hands together and then above her.

with her arms bound, you have more freedom to undress her without her squirming and getting in your way. as soon as her pants are off, you notice a dark, wet patch in the center of her boxers. “like what you see?” she teases. you gulp and nod, suddenly unable to form any words. “get the strap.” she demands. and who are you to say no to her?

you manage to buckle it up before everything really catches up to you. she’s smirking below you, watching as you pathetically ogle her thick shoulders, puffy, brown nipples, taut abs, and quivering, wet hole. “so? are you ready?” she prompts. as soon as she says the word, you can’t control yourself. you slide into her incredibly easily, slick dripping down her ass and making a puddle underneath her already.

your hips snap into hers, it’s messy and uncoordinated and you don’t really know what you’re doing, but sevika loves it. she’s on cloud nine, writhing and whimpering and squeezing her eyes shut as you pound into her. “mmm, sevika, is it good? am i doing good?” you ask.

“so good.” she assures you, panting. “so fucking good, gonna make me cum and we’ve just started.”

“fuck!” you gasp, and you’re squirming on top of her as your own orgasm hits you like a train. it came out of nowhere, but it’s the most intense one you’ve probably ever had. as if all of those times you’ve desperately rubbed your aching clit to the thought of her were for nothing.

“keep going.” she whines. “please, you’re doing s-so good for me, i’m so fucking close.”

something comes over you. something rough and dirty and animalistic. you yank the strap off, hardly bothering to unbuckle it beforehand. she whines again, wishing she still had your cock plugging her up, but she can’t complain when you sit your cunt on top of hers, your shared mixture of slick making an unholy wet smacking sound. never in a million years did you expect sevika’d be such a sacrificial angel, a dirty slut with needs.

her hard clit twitches when it meets yours, and she moans so loud you’re sure it can be heard outside of the building. at least nobody else is here, inside, or you two would get busted. “how long have you wanted to do this?” she asks.

“f-for such a long time.” you admit. “i’ve been needing it so badly, sevika.”

“how… how badly? hmm?”

“you don’t even know.” you whimper. “i would listen to you in here whenever i needed it the most. and sometimes i’d watch you leave half undressed and wish it was me who did that to you.” you slide herself against her as deeply as you can, and you’re practically humping her like a dog at this point. the pair of you only get more soaked until sevika’s clenching her legs around yours, locking you in place as she cums so hard she can’t see straight.

as soon as she comes down from her orgasm, she says something quick and muffled like “ididitonpurpose” but you don’t quite hear it.

“i did it on purpose to fuck with you.” she sighs, repeating herself more clearly now. “i’ve had my eye on you for such a long time, i thought you’d eventually pick up on it and make a move, but you never did. so i started fucking with you instead.”

“what?” you ask, completely appalled. “are you kidding?”

“no, most of the nights i’ve spent here has been me and the girls plotting on how to fuck with you the hardest. notice how none of their other customers are here? and how they mysteriously recovered from their illness for a day until catching it again?”

“wait, so is this a prank?” you ask, brain fuzzy from having sex with sevika but also from finally piecing things together.

“well, not this.” she says, gesturing with her head to your mutually nude bodies tangled together. “but they helped me plan the evening, yes.”

“you… fucker!” you shout, a light giggle following after. “am i really that blind?”

“i guess so.” she shrugs. “now, are you gonna untie me so i can show you what my arm can do, or are you gonna sit there with your jaw open like that.”

you smack her shoulder playfully, ducking down and settling yourself on her lap for a final makeout session before you have to give up your top duties for the night. not like you care, though, because her arm can do some pretty cool tricks, and she tips you well nearly every night from now on.

author’s note: tehe haiii i didn’t wanna add this at the beginning cause i always yap too much, so if you made it all this way THANK YOU FOR READING 🤭 i luv you guys so much and i love our little sevibear… apologies for teasing the hell out of this and taking forever to finish LMAOOO oops. anyways special shoutout to my 3 favorite mutuals (you know who you are) for giving me motivation to finish this, i love you guys the mostest mwah mwah mwah y’all are wayyyyy too nice to me and i appreciate you more than you know <333 comments and reblogs are very appreciated!!!! lmk what you thought!!!!!! thanksssss 🫶

[alexzandriathegood]

I’ll admit it, occasionally I indulge in a little woo woo shit. Since we exist in the same timeline, I don’t have to tell you that it is a challenge to exist peacefully - not only out in the world - but inside oneself. Mental health requires maintenance. Introspection is a dire necessity. 

When I mentioned the “woo woo” astrology probably came to mind. Honestly, beyond laughing at the occasional “Scorpios are like…” or “avoid Geminis like the plague” joke I don’t really get into horoscope stuff too much. I also don’t keep up with my inspiring quote journal (which was prudently color coded and organized by type and name) anymore. I’m actually embarrassed to admit it featured words from Russel Brand. 2020 was a tough year! 

However, I did manage to expand my spiritual toolbox in healthy ways by incorporating a little something called “Mirror Work.” It’s the strange practice of speaking to yourself out loud in the mirror. Worst case it brings up images of psychopathic, power hungry men droning on about their future conquests (i.e. Patrick Bateman as the American Psycho or his spiritual son, Tyrell Wellick. “I will be the CTO!”). Best case it looks like me saying something really sweet to myself and tearing up a little bit.

We ALL need positive encouragement. 

You may be asking yourself why should I entertain this practice? Mirror work is a tool to bring about positive change and it is completely unrestricted. You don’t need anyone else to do this positive thing for yourself. In fact, it’s best if no one else is around. All you got to do is (1) create some affirming things to say (2) say them into a mirror. If you are direct and honest throughout this process it can really start to take a hold of you. Just as a thoughtless, hurtful statement can affect you on a visceral level, a thoughtfully put together positive statement can do the same. 

If you’ve been told repeatedly directly or indirectly that you are deficient in some way, then that feedback has undoubtedly shaped the way you live your life. It may have shaped your life so significantly that you begin to think it was all an individual choice. However, in reality we are interacting with so many ideas created by other people that are communicated to us through misunderstandings, body language, tone of voice, advertisements, social media, and overhearing conversations. We have to take time to digest what we are exposed to and separate fact from fiction. Mirror work is my fact making process. I set my intentions for my own growth. I ask myself for clarity. I return to check in. And most of all, I truly believe that I can make a difference in my own life. 

My latest art project, “Meditation Portals” has me all in my feelings. They’re magnetic glass prints bursting with colors that radiate happiness in my soul. Yes, I unashamedly feel this comfortable with something I am actually responsible for. Talk about growth. Anyways, so one day I was enjoying a print in my living room and I saw my own reflection within the piece. It was weird. I stepped away to not see myself and that decision was provocative to me. “Why,” I asked “am I trying to erase myself from this moment?” Why are we constantly trying to erase ourselves? Is there anything we can do to restore our esteem and move about more positively in the world? The answer is yes. It may not specifically be Mirror Work, but, I’d specifically like to challenge you to try it for yourself. Also, check out my art shop feelthegood.bigcartel.com. Watch the companion video to this blog to learn how to get started with Mirror Work here: https://youtu.be/C387SK0vSuY

[proarteetvoluptate]

**When are we gonna see a new Vesperal movie ?** It’s a question I get a lot, and despite its good intentions, there is so much to unpack here.

So. First of all, thank you. I get that your impatience betrays your enthusiasm, and I truly appreciate that you loved my work, and that you are eager for more. Thank you deeply. However... I think most of you are missing the big point, that is : I’M ALONE.

I’m doing this whole thing alone. Of course I sometimes had some friends' help, for whom I'm the most grateful. But most of times I’m Vesperal's producer, director, sometimes performer, light technician, editor, color corrector, director of marketing, etc. The thing is... making films takes time. Tremendous amount of time. Editing alone is the longest job possible. You may enjoy the art, quality and details I put into my films - thank you - but this is precisely the reason it takes so much time. You can't have quality works if it's done fast and cheap. (you may be familiar with these diagrams ?)

Also bear in mind that I do this *besides* my other careers.

Now, down to the financial aspect. Filming also requires a tremendous amount of energy and money. So, time I may not find, energy I’m lacking, money that I don’t have, and that these movies don’t make. I’m making films because of a deep creative impulse, a drive, a desire to experiment and to make something beautiful and personal. But *it is not* a success story - usually, it’s a financial failure. It hardly makes any money, because again, I’m alone, I’m intransigeant in my creative choices, and I’m not a big visible company : I’m an artist, alone. Doing short tiny clips on onlyfans is worth more money than all these carefully-crafted movies I pour my soul into.

So, sometimes, yes, it’s insanely hard for me to find the time, the energy, the means, the spark, the inspiration and the drive to put in all the work - for pretty much no rewards at the end. Don’t misread me. Having people supporting this, and genuinely writing me how moved, enthralled, or thrilled they’ve been while watching my movie IS a reward and I cherish it. Still, it doesn’t pay my rent.

You all, audience, if you care about what we do, understand what's behind the scene as well and show support anywhere you can, but don't feel entitled to new "content" to consume. It's not content, it's creation, and creation needs lots of time.