#what the hell are those links under my images now

[warping-realities]

Familly Group Chat

Written version of my last video. At some point I'll make one of the first one too! Hope you like it!

Michael was one of the many “middle kids” of John and Louise Bennet; in fact, he was the 4th of 7, just a few minutes younger than his twin brother, Tobias, with whom he shared that typical inscrutable and unexplainable bond that only twins have. Even though the relationship among all seven Bennet boys was super strong, having been raised under the strict rules of the holy Catholic Church by their parents, they were all scattered across the country, so the only way to keep in touch was through the family group chat on an app. That morning, the 23-year-old blonde man, skinny but toned from constant running, had just finished taking a hot shower and putting on his favorite pair of skinny black jeans, which his modern startup job not only accept but even endorsed as part of the dress code. He was about to start brushing his teeth when a new message notification popped up on his phone.

“Message from Tobias, here we go…” he muttered to himself, knowing his twin would only send a message at that hour if it was to roast someone. And sure enough!

“Hey bro, did you see the good morning message Mom posted in the family group?”

“Not yet, man.”

“Well, brace yourself! I have no idea where she finds this stuff!”

As he opened the family group while heading to the kitchen to make his usual black coffee, Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at the cheesiness of the good morning image Mom had sent.

“Dude, do all moms have a group to share this crap?” he typed to his brother in the private chat.

“Has to be! But you better reply, you know how she gets… soon she’ll be whining about how she raised seven ungrateful kids or some nonsense,” Tobias replied. Thinking about that, Michael rushed to respond to their mom. Louise was really kinda needy now that only the youngest still lived with her. However, when he opened the family group, he couldn't help but laugh out loud at the reply Tobias had sent—an even tackier image than the one their mom sent.

“Dude, you’re the worst! Where the hell did you find that image to reply to her?” he shot back to his brother.

“Well, maybe I’m in the mom’s group!” He replied before sending something completely different. “Hey, what’s going on? Someone saved as Dad 0.2 just join the group. What the hell is this?”

Hurrying to check that message, Michael quickly opened the family group and was shocked to see an unknown person had joined, which shouldn’t be possible without an access link or an invite from one of the group admins, their parents. The private convo that followed between the brothers was frantic and freaked out.

“Dad 0.2 removed Mom from the group… what’s going on?”

“I don’t know… how does someone just waltz into a private group and kick someone out???”

“Dad 0.2 changed the group name from Bennet Family to Bradley Boys! What the hell is this?”

“He’s sending a video, what’s happening???”

“I don’t know, bro, let’s just open it and see.”

The video showed a dude in his forties, but he looked really good for his age, easily passing for someone younger if it weren't for the crow's feet around his eyes that showed he was used to smiling, and his extremely muscular physique screamed years of hardcore workouts. With light brown hair and a well-groomed beard, he was rocking just a pair of sweats that showcased his powerful muscles in a spacious but Spartan room, with minimal furniture or decor.

“Alright, guys, it’s time to send our good morning videos! Who’s next? How about you, Jeff? I’m dying to rest my head on those muscle pillows of yours, babe!” the stranger said, flexing his arms.

“WTF?? You seeing what I’m seeing, Tobias? And who the hell is Jeff?” Michael quickly texted back to his brother.

“I have no clue, man, this is so weird… wait a sec… Dad 0.1 just sent a video, what the hell is this?”

“I think we better check it out…” Michael shot back before opening the video from the contact that also showed up for him as Dad 0.1.

“I’m dying to see you too, Buck! Counting the seconds until you’re back, babe. The bed feels empty without you here! Who’s next? How about our firstborn? It’s on you, Wyatt!” That was impossible; the face on the screen was undeniably their dad, but he had gained a solid 50 pounds of muscle and lost a good amount of fat. Not to mention the carpet of hair that now covered his formerly smooth chest.

“Is that really Dad? No way… how?” Tobias sent back.

“I don’t know, man! This is so bizarre… how did he bulk up so much… it doesn’t make sense… and who the hell is Wyatt?”

“He mentioned firstborn… but no… that can’t be…” Tobias typed before they both received another notification. Upon opening the video, they were in for another surprise.

“Hey there, bros! Ready for a new day? I’m already warming up waiting for my workout buddy—where you at, Maverick, little bro?” said the muscular dude, barely in his thirties, dressed all in black and flexing in a gym locker room.

“Dude… that’s Will!!! But he’s never set foot in a gym,” Michael texted Tobias. William, the oldest of the bunch, was about to turn thirty, and he had the chubby physique of an accountant used to long hours behind a desk, drinking coffee and munching on donuts—that was literally his life… or should be. But if there was anything that video showed, it was that Wyatt had never put a single sweet in his mouth.

“I don’t even know what to say… but there’s more coming!” Tobias replied, apparently just as stunned. As the new video arrived, they rushed to look.

“Ha! I’ve already left you in the dust, Wyatt! Looks like the baby bro is now the big bro! Don’t take too long, or I’ll be late for school, and my coach is gonna flip, right, Griff?”

“Dude, that’s Martin on steroids! That kid looks like he’s tripled in size! Is this some kind of prank? Some deep fake?” he asked in shock. Martin, the youngest, was already a more athletic kid, being on the wrestling team, but with that size, he’d be better suited for the offensive line on a football team, if he wasn’t already too big for that, and who the hell was this coach he was talking about?

“Michael, I’m just as lost as you. But it looks like this isn’t stopping…” Tobias commented as another video popped up in the group.

“You’re gonna have to do a ton of push-ups for not calling me Coach Bradley, kid! No Griff or Griffin while I’m your trainer! And if you’re late for school, it’ll be suicide day! Speaking of late, where the hell are you, Chase? Bet you left Hunter hanging at the beach.”

“Tobias, that’s Gordon! How the hell is he a coach? He’s a math teacher!” Michael texted in disbelief, seeing their second oldest brother looking way older than he should, with thinning hair as if he had been overdoing the steroids, which seemed totally possible, he thought, seeing the massive bodybuilder rocking just boxer briefs and a tight tank top, flexing his powerful muscles in some dimly lit room.

“Tobias? Tobias? Damn… there’s more coming!” Michael texted anxiously as he opened the next video.

“Ha, you know me too well, bro, but The Chaser is on the scene, Hunt’s got to face me!” That was Carl, but just like the other family members, he had gone through a transformation that left him almost unrecognizable. He had turned into a mountain of muscles covered by a thin layer of bronzed skin, clad only in a tiny yellow short, shades, and a backwards cap. Sitting in a car, flexing his muscles and grinning. Michael didn’t even have time to send a new outraged message to Tobias when another video came in.

“Too bad I’m already way ahead in my workout, little bro! You sure you want to take me on? Hehehe. Speaking of challenges, which twin’s gonna fire the next shot? Trey or Micah?” said the bronzed, muscular dude sporting Hugh’s modified look, the brother just below the twins in age. Watching this, Michael’s shock wore off, and he resumed chatting with his twin.

“What the hell is going on??? What are they doing at the beach? They should be in college!” But the reply didn’t come. Worried, he called out for his brother.

“Tobias? Tobias?”

“Who the fuck is Tobias, bro? I’m already sending my video, Micah! Big T is once again taking the lead! At least The Grand Finale is all yours!” was the twin response.

“Tobias, you guys must be messing with me!” Michael sent before opening the family group, where his brother had just sent another video.

“Trey here, leaving the little twin eating dust as always. And like always, I can’t tell what’s more badass, the view from my window or the sight the girls get when they check out my bod! What do you say, Micah, who’s used to seeing pretty much the same thing when you look in the mirror?” said the guy who in no way could be his twin brother, while grinning and showing off his muscular physique in front of his sunny apartment window. Totally lost, Michael sent a message to him.

“Tobias… Trey… I’m not doing any of this, this is insane!” he sent without realizing that autocorrect had changed his brother’s name.

“Dude, we’ve been doing this for years! It’s a Bradley tradition, what’s the problem now? You know how our das freak if we don’t join in. One of them is gonna call you if you don’t send it soon!” he replied. And Michael didn’t even have time to formulate a response to that new absurdity.

“Crap, video call from Dad 0.1,” he muttered to himself, refusing to pick up. But it seemed his phone had a mind of its own because the altered version of his dad popped up on his screen without permission.

“Micah, your dad is far away and wants a video from his boys. Trey just told me you don’t want to do it. What’s the harm in sending it? All your brothers already have, don’t be a buzzkill,” said the man with a serious and slightly disappointed expression.

“Dad, I… what the hell?” Michael started to respond, only to be cut off by the sudden entrance of a third person in the call. How was this possible? How was all this even real???

“Chill out, Jeff! I think Micah’s scared of looking like a weakling in front of his brothers.” It was the guy from the other video, grinning and crossing his arms while looking at Michael with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What??? I… no… weakling!” For some reason, that challenge sparked something inside him, a primal urge to show what he was capable of, and even more, to show that man what he could do. He wanted… no, he needed to prove himself to that man. Show one of the most important people in his life that he wasn’t some weakling!

“You’re gonna see who the weakling is, Dad!” Micah shot back with a grin before sending his own video.

“Last of the Bradley boys here, you bunch of exhibitionists!” he said, shyly smiling. Unlike his brothers he didn't like to show off his physique without a greater purpose, he kept hitting the gym for the joy it always brought him, mainly because it was something that connected all the brothers and their two dads. The boys didn’t know who was whose dad, and to them that didn’t matter one bit. The Bradley boys were a united front; even though each had their own place, they all worked together at the gym their fathers had founded many years ago, even those who had other jobs like Griff or were still finishing school like Maverick. Even when it came time for college, they preferred to stick around instead of crossing the country, which was why Hunter and Chase still lived with their fathers. Their upbringing had been liberal, but there were still well-established boundaries of respect. Even though a much greater degree of freedom was present now that they were all adults, provocative acts had become more common, with the guys and their parents occasionally sending more explicit videos. In fact, the bond among them was so strong that whenever one of them was away for some reason, it had become family tradition to send those good morning videos.

“We’re looking forward to your return, Dad!” he said in the group, joined by his brothers and other father. They were answered by Buck, affectionately known by all as Dad 0.2.

“I’ll be back this weekend, boys, and I want the whole family together! But until then, at least we’ll have our little moments every morning. To wrap it up, here’s one last video from me for you to think of me as much as I think of you!” he said, winking and provocatively massaging his pecs.

“Come on, Dad! We don’t need this at this time of the morning,” was the response from his sons, even though they were all exactly the same kind of man as Buck Bradley.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Two

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

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

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

Chapter Two - Breakfast

Content Warning: None (Let me know if I missed any!)

“Coffee anyone?” You call out to the foyer as your feet hit the carpet. 

It was early and you had a lot to do today, but there was always time for coffee. Besides, you spent half the night tossing and turning before finally winding down into a few hours of sleep. You were exhausted - not just from the night’s meeting, but the silence of the Hotel was deafening. You usually slept to music, but the record player in your old room didn’t belong to you and so you couldn’t take it when you left. 

Angel sat before the old television, Husk standing at his side, his arms crossed before him. Angel lay sprawling across the sofa, dark circles under his eyes. With the type of jobs these two had, you were surprised to see them up so early. 

“… isn’t that right Tom?” You recognized Katie Killjoy’s voice echo from the television. 

666 News this early in the morning? You joined the cat and spider in the alcove. 

“That’s right Katie! Another pile of ashes was discovered in the alley of the Pride Ring this morning as the Shadow has claimed yet another victim! The remains have been identified as Chazwick Thurman, a known member of the Crimson Mafia...” 

“Too bad they weren’t your ashes, aye Tom…” 

You drowned out the voices of the broadcasters as images of an alleyway in the Entertainment district flash across the screen. The only thing left behind was a bone-shaped belt buckle and a pile of grey. 

“Crimson was invited to comment.” 

You stiffen.

The screen cut to a cameraman chasing Crimson into a car. “Get that fucking camera out of my fucking face!” He slams the car door and the screen cuts back to the reporters. 

Goddamn that almost gave you a heart attack…

“How do yous think they identify ‘em?” Angel motioned to the screen, now turned back to Chaz’s ash’s blowing away in the breeze. “All I see is a bunch o’ dirt.” 

“Something Gluttony whipped up I heard,” Husk grumbles. He looks just as exhausted as Angel. 

“What would Beelzebub want to do with a bunch o’ murders?” Angel argued. 

“Don’t look at me, those are just the rumors!” 

“I heard it was a new Voxtek technology,” you chime in. “They have some sort of electronic scanner that can detect soul signatures.” 

You were right, of course, but they didn’t know that. 

“But he was a Hellborn Native? Do they even have souls? And what was he doing in the Pride Ring anyway?” Angel argued. 

You shrugged, “Like Husk said… Only rumors.” 

“Seems a little shady if you ask me.” Husk rubs the scruff forming on his chin. “That’s the first Hell Native to have been slain by the Shadow. So far he’s only gone after Sinners. Why change now?” 

You weren’t interested in playing conspiracy theorist today. Too much to do. Instead you decided to shift the conversation, “Coffee?” 

Angel and Husk look to you. 

“It’s the only reason we got up,” Angel answered. “Heard ya’ had a busy morning and didn’t wanna miss ya’.” 

The sentiment made your face turn pink. Day two and already you felt some sort of connection forming with the two of them. 

You followed them into the kitchen, but froze on the threshold as the sound of soft jazz hit your ears and a jolt of static ran down your spine. There, standing in a frilly apron tied at the waist, serving spoon in hand, was the red demon Alastor. He didn’t look up as he scooped the remaining eggs into the white dish set on the table. 

“Good morning fellow Sinners!” The demon sung. Husk and Angel grumbled in response. Not morning people. So, the maniacal demon has a domestic side? What a weird change of pace after literally beating the shit out of someone yesterday and then turning around and pissing off an Overlord. 

“Morning, Mr. Alastor,” you mumbled, trying to match his cheerfulness but frankly, you hadn’t had coffee yet and didn’t enjoy talking to anyone before your first steaming cup. 

Finally his eyes landed on you, the soft jazz music coming to a small and almost imperceptible skip you would have missed had you not been listening for it. This man gives away so much in his audio alone. 

Half-lidded, his eyes dragged over you, from the Mary Jane heels - short as can be, you couldn’t handle anything over an inch - to the red puffy dress that hugged your sides and expanded into layers of black landing just above your knees. The dress was long sleeved, with black lace running across your back, hiding your tattoo perfectly. It came with a matching metal red clip for your hair. 

Normally you hated wearing dresses, hated looking girly, but etiquette called for it this morning. You’d be far more comfortable in a pair of trousers and button up collared shirt. 

You waited as the invisible radio clicked through a few stations before returning to a soft jazz. “Well, well, look what the spider and cat dragged in. And where is our fine hotel guest off to today?” He returned the pan to the stove before untying the apron at his waist. 

Okay, he was acting cordial. So maybe that meant whatever happened yesterday on the cobblestone streets wasn’t him? Or maybe he hadn’t realized it was you who did it? Either way, there was a question mark next to whatever power slapped the shit out of you yesterday - “proceed with caution,” the sticky note next to it read. 

“I have a breakfast date…” You start but Angel’s whistling interrupts you. 

“Ow! Oooow!” He called, “And who is the lucky Sinner bestowed with the honor of taking your fine ass out today?” 

Your cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “My old land lady?” You curled into yourself, feeling eyes on your skin, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck. 

“Oh, you like ‘em mature, don’t ya’?” Angel purred. It made you laugh, breaking some of the tension. 

“Now, now Angel Dust, one musn’t speak such profanities to a young lady before she’s had her breakfast.” Alastor settled into his chair. Snapping his fingers for a newspaper, he disappeared behind the black and white text. The air around you grew a little colder with his closeness, like the heat was being absorbed by the red demon himself.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Angel shrugged, spooning piles of egg onto his plate. “Hair clip knows I’m good for it.” 

“Same thing as yesterday, Husk?” You ask sheepishly, making your way to the Breville in the corner. The coldness wrapped around your legs, as if it was following you across the kitchen.

“That would be great, kiddo,” he rubbed his temples, his chin resting on the table top. Hangover? 

You felt the bubbles in your chest die down as you got to work, filling the portafilter with beans and finding a white espresso cup in the cupboard. 

“Angel?” You called over your shoulder. You feigned a small kick at the air around your ankles, wishing for whatever invisible coldness to leave you alone. It didn’t. 

“A vanilla soy latte if ya’ could be so kind, sweet cheeks,” he asked, mouthful of food. You heard the door swing open as Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty’s voices filled the air. 

I thought the tiny maid normally cooked the meals? 

Rummaging through the cupboards you couldn’t find any syrups for his request - only a chai tea blend. You apologized but made a mental note to pick up some supplies today. 

Passing him his soy latte - complete with a spider on top - you got to work on everyone else’s orders before finally turning to Alastor. 

Your palms instantly started to sweat. What was it about this demon that made you so nervous? 

“Can I get you anything Mr. Alastor?” Was your voice shaky? Did you seem nervous?

The top part of the newspaper folded down to reveal his face. His smile was strained despite the sweet jazz playing over his radio. His radio? Was that correct? 

“Alastor’, darling, and a hot cup of joe would be wonderful,” his eyes lingered on you a little too long before you finally nodded. 

Swallowing, you turned back to the Breville and began grinding the beans. You debated making a second cup for yourself, you did still have thirty minutes before you needed to go, but didn’t necessarily wanna smudge your red lipstick before you left. It’ll give you something for your hands to do, to calm the nerves that is, and to warm your bones - the coldness eliciting goosebumps across your legs. 

Making two cups of coffee, one in Alastor’s “Oh, Deer!” mug - which made you chuckle - you paused, an idea forming in your mind. You didn’t have many ingredients to work with, but you did have one thing. Opening the chai you took a sniff - fresh. You had a feeling, and it was a risk, but you decided to jump off that cliff anyway. Using a strainer you let a few leaves steep in his cup, before swirling it around and straining it out. 

Dropping the mug before him, you finally noticed the extra chair that had been added to the table - right next to him. When did that get there? Nifty sat to your right with Angel right across from you. You tried to catch Angel’s attention, to thank him for adding the extra seat, but he didn’t notice you as he was too busy licking the foam from his lips while sending Husk a sexual retort. Meanwhile, Nifty was stabbing away at her plate, too busy to notice your sudden hesitation.

Was it because of Alastor? 

Your mind flits back to the radio broadcast last night and Alastor’s grand display?-battle?-sing a-long?-with the media demon Vox. Seems he had a chance to go big at one point but never really made it. You wondered what happened? 

“I don’t bite, darling,” Alastor snapped and his newspaper disappeared. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his knees before taking a sip of his mug. His eyes lit up, his smile curling at the edge. You held your breath as you waited for his reaction. 

“Please, take a seat,” the chair before you slid back without a touch, a puddle of shadow beneath it shifting ever so slightly. 

He took another sip, his shoulders dropping an inch. You took that as a sign that he enjoyed your coffee concoction and wasn’t going to rip your head off for changing his request. 

Rejoining the table, you swore the air around your legs warmed slightly. 

“Hey, Hair clip, I gotta know something,” Angel chimed across the table, his belly finally full. “What’s a sweet lil’ thing like you gotta do to get yourself down ‘ere?” 

“Angel!” Charlie protested. 

“Wha’? Come on we was all thinkin’ it.” He crossed his many arms. 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Charlie’s eyes twinkled. 

“Uhm, no it’s okay,” your hands clench and unclench around the mug, letting the heat soothe your fingers, resisting the urge to rub your neck. “I had the unfortunate circumstances of finding myself at the center of a web of…” you searched for the right word, “disappearances.” Your lips curled into a smile you couldn’t help but form. You tried to hide it by siping your cup. 

Lying was all too easy these days. 

“Oh, shit.” Angel jumped in his seat. 

“Wait, are you telling us you killed people?” Husk breathes. 

“Stab, stab, stab,” Nifty drove her knife into her toast over and over. Vaggie reached over and carefully pulled the needle from her fingers. 

How much do you reveal about this backstory now? If you reveal too much it’ll appear as if you have nothing to hide, but chatty Sinners were suspicious Sinners. Give them just a nugget to chew on for now. 

“Technically, the cases were never solved. While I was alive anyway…” You mumbled into your cup, conscious of your lipstick on the rim. 

Not denial but not confirmation, either. 

“So, you didn’t kill people?” Husk clarifies. 

“I didn’t say that…” You mumble into the steam.

The beans aren’t bad, but the undercut of chocolate wasn’t your favorite. Add that to the shopping list for today. 

So much to do before tomorrow… 

“So, then you did?” Angel asks. 

You didn’t answer. This conversation was going in circles. 

“Might we have heard of you and your endeavors topside, Ms. Thestral?” Alastor’s forearms were suddenly on the table, his presence leaning into you. 

You felt something slip past your ankles, like a small breeze. You crossed your legs instinctively. 

There’s power in a name down here in Hell. Knowing who people were before gives others leverage, gives them blackmail to use against another. They could threaten your family still alive up top. They could use it to find others who have died but knew you from before for information. The possibilities are endless. 

Alastor knows this. It’s an unspoken rule. It’s why Angel goes by Angel or Husk goes by Husk. He knows you’d never give any exact details leading to who you were and what you did, so he’s decided to toy with you. Much like Sir Pentious from yesterday. 

Let him eat his own medicine then.

“Might we have heard of you and yours, Mr. Alastor?” You leaned into him, your gaze never wavering from his face. A fleeting flash of amusement so swift had you blinked you would have missed it. 

The air was sucked out of the room in one collective gasp as the Hotel Natives waited for his response. 

Geez, were they all afraid of this guy or…? You’d hate to see what they’d do in the presence of an Overlord. 

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I believe you and I are going to get along quite well, darling.” With a snap of his fingers the newspaper reappears, his face disappearing before you got a chance to study it.

The tension in the room drops as everyone lets out their breath. 

You were really going to have to figure out what you were going to do with this Alastor fellow. Perhaps your little outing today would shed light on the subject. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

Vaggie is up and out of her seat before you have a chance to register what’s going on. More bangs - coming from the front door. Someone was knocking? Next thing you know, everyone is up and out of their seats and in the foyer - except for Alastor, who decides to take his time. 

Throwing open the door, Vaggie comes face to face with Sir Pentious. “Hello, my dear… Ah!” 

Vaggie plants a facer right into his nose before pulling her spear from the Void. The snake demon collapses at her feet, begging for mercy. 

“Oh, hello again!” Charlie has inserted herself into the situation. This ought to be interesting. You had to admit, you’ve taken some pretty boring jobs before, but the people here were so fun to watch, it made the slow progress worth it. 

Sir Pentious mentions something about redemption, which is exactly the thing to say to the Princess Morningstar. The next thing you know she’s practically dragging him inside.

Angel jumps in to point out the obvious but Vaggie eventually crumbles under Charlie’s begging. 

The gears in your mind turn as they talk, the Princess showing him the foyer, noting how convenient this turn of events just so happened to be. 

Sir Pentious did not just come here on accident - especially after yesterday. Maybe another plan of attack on Alastor? He did catch the red demon off guard, perhaps he was trying again with the same “element of surprise” tactic. 

Regardless, Charlie was dotting on the poor demon like he was a small child in need of shepherding. Was she clueless to the situation or just a bleeding heart hopeful?   

Either way, the mosquito has returned. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch Angel’s mood change. From general intrigue to irritation and… was that guilt you were smelling as Charlie showed the snake about? No - self-loathing. They always smelled so similar, it was easy to get the two confused. 

Great now Nifty is fawning over the serpent. The tiny demon is a fucked up enigma that you had no intention of figuring out.

“This is Thestral. Our most recent guest!” Charlie escorts him before you. You shake the snake demon’s hand - gross, he’s slimy. 

Static fills your ears, making your hair stand on end as you shake the demon’s hand.

“And over here is… Oh! Uh, Alastor!” Charlie squeaks. “Our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest, Sir Pentious… Hehe…” 

You feel Alastor’s eyes on the back of your head before he turns to the snake demon. The serpent cowered before the well-dressed Joe, the room filling with the scent of oranges and mint: fear. 

“Ah, yes! You’re the one who ruined my coat!” The demon’s eyes begin to glow, their eerie red light impregnating the room with their aura. “I definitely remember you now.” 

Was that irritation you sensed? You watched his shoulders as the snake demon attempted to apologize, noting their stiffness despite his relaxed demeanor in the kitchen. 

This guy had a lot of pent up aggression. He carried himself like a clogged overflowing sink someone left the plug in too long. The interaction yesterday with the Vees did nothing to quell his attitude despite the flux he sent the media demon into. The entire grid shut down after you joined Husk at the bar - cellphones, televisions, electricity. It was a blackout for a few hours before his system finally reset. Guess Vox has more of a hold on Pentagram City than you knew. 

Sir Pentious hands Alastor the small piece of fabric he ripped from him yesterday. 

“Ah-Ho!” The Radio Demon sings. “Not many people have been able to take even this much off me, it must have meant quite a lot to you.” 

You snort into your hand, catching a side glance from the Radio Demon. 

The fabric spontaneously combusts into green flame. 

What!? He has access to Hellfire? You try to not let the shock show on your face but he catches it regardless. 

The clock chimes 8 on the wall.

Shit, you were going to be late! 

Shoving your hands into the pockets sewn into the dress, you double check that you did indeed grab your wallet before heading for the door. “I’m sorry Charlie, but I have to go now!” 

“Oh, yes! Don’t forget, one o’clock!” She waves after you. 

The cold sensation slips from your ankles, making you shutter as you head for the front, but before you have a chance to pull the door open, Husk steps into your path. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, looking over your shoulder at something. “Stop by the bar later, wouldya?” 

His tone was far more serious than one would expect for a casual hangout invitation. 

“Sure, Husk,” you nod, worried that something was wrong. 

“Stay safe out there,” he pats your shoulder before heading back to the bar, his eyes downcast as he passes the red demon and Princess now entranced in their own conversation. 

You swear you see Alastor’s shadow move, like it was waving goodbye…

Anyway… That was… weird, but good! Making progress with Husk and an opportunity to hear some gossip from the grumpy bartender. 

You headed out into the cobblestone streets with a new pep in your step and a smile on your face. 

____________________________________

“Thanks, Susan,” you smiled at the potted daisy in your hand. It was half dead but so was she. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” she pinched your cheeks as she screamed. She was deaf, everything she said was in a scream. 

“I’ll see you next week!” You smiled, slowly inching away. “With the lemon finger sandwiches this time!” 

She laughs as you parted ways, flipping her boa over her shoulder as she shuffled. 

You loved the lady, she gave you a room when you had nowhere else to go. After you moved out you thought it would be the end of breakfasts with the old crazy lady, but she begged for tea and snacks once a week in the park. She was lonely - even though she was to blame for her loneliness. She did eat her third husband and all… So, you bought her breakfast and tea once a week. It was the least you could do after everything she has done for you. 

You rounded the Plaza and headed for the doors of Rosie’s Emporium but your stride came to a crashing halt as static filled your ears. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Alastor!” Rosie’s voice carried to the front of the store. 

Fuck! 

Flattening against the other half of the double doors, and hiding your face against the wall, you prayed he would walk right past you and not notice your anxiety-riddled form in the doorway. But, alas, you were never that lucky.

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Oh!” The Radio Demon stopped half stride out the door, his eyes immediately finding yours. The edges of his lips curled far past what you thought possible for his face. His radio faltered just a moment before he addressed you. “Why, hello there.” 

Red bloomed across your cheeks as you came face to face with him. He tipped an eyebrow up, unleashing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You searched for something to say but words seemed just out of reach. 

What was wrong with you! Why did this demon have so much sway over your emotions! Get yourself together. Why…

Rosie cleared her throat, causing you to jump. She was quiet when she was being sneaky. “And what do we have here?” Her charming New York accent was doing nothing to qualm the nerves in your belly. 

“Thestral, this is Rosie. The most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord this side of the Pentagram!” Trumpets echoed through his radio. 

You tried hard not to roll your eyes.

“Oh! Always a charmer,” Rosie smiled wide, her razor sharp teeth on display.

“And Rosie,” his arm wraps around your lower back, pushing you closer to the man-eating Overlord. That cold sensation wraps around your legs again, making you shiver. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to…”

“Actually,” you interrupt, trying to keep the bite from your voice. Stepping out of Alastor’s grip, the cold follows you. What made him think he could just touch you like that!? “We’ve met.” 

A flash of irritation crosses Alastor’s eyes before being replaced with his mask.

“Oh! What a regal surprise!” Rosie drags you inside, taking the dead potted plant from you. “You’re early!” She goes for a tray of fingers. “Can I offer you something to eat?” 

“I just ate actually,” an uncomfortable laugh escapes your lips. 

You didn’t detest cannibalism - I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good shoulder steak? - it was the way Alastor was looking at you that was setting those butterflies in a flurry. It was a look of… suspicion? You sniffed, but smelled nothing. Hmm, interesting.

“You two know each other?” Alastor twirled his cane, clutching it behind his back. His smile was strained. 

Shit.

“Oh, Thestral and I go way back!” She spun, placing the finger food aside before clamping both her hands atop your shoulders. You were trapped. “Practically fell on top of me when she died!” 

Alastor’s eyes light up with the addition of the new information. “Did she now?” 

You stop him from asking anymore questions with an awkward laugh. “Rosie, don’t you have to take my measurements?” 

“Oh, my stars! You’re here for a dress!” Her eyes sparkle. Cupping your cheeks, she pulls your face to hers. “Finally! This one was getting a little old,” she thumbs a hole in your sleeve you were desperately trying to hide. You frown. 

You didn’t have money to burn often, but when you did you let Rosie dress you up as she pleased. She never wanted money from you, in fact she hated that you offered, but it didn’t feel right to just take her creations without giving her something in return. 

“Oh, don’t fret, doll! You’re still a tomato! Don’t you think so, Alastor?” She pinched your cheeks, turning your face to the red demon in his newly fashioned pin-striped suit.

You met his eyes, he was clearly loving the embarrassment Rosie was showering you with. 

“As cute as a bug’s ear,” he smiled, his eyebrows relaxing in amusement. 

God, did this man do anything other than fucking smile? 

Your face reddened under his direct gaze, its burn bleeding into the cold of Rosie’s fingers. You didn’t like being dotted on and you sure as Hell didn’t like being showed off like this. 

Wait… what did he say? Did he call you cute? The Radio Demon called you cute. 

“Oh!” Rosie finally releases you. You rub your cheeks to lessen the sting from her pinches. “Ya-know, Alastor. I got a premo-connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickin’s for a deal to be made, my friend!” 

A deal? Rosie didn’t just throw people a bone out of pity. She didn’t freely offer up anything to anyone unless she respected them. Rosie - the Rosie - respected… him? The Radio Demon was turning out to be a bigger fish than expected. Still, he remained a mystery. God it was irritating. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I must be off. So much to do at the Hotel!” He sung, his radio clicking on a smooth jazz. He picked at invisible lint on his shoulder before his half-lidded eyes met yours. “I‘ll see you this afternoon, darling.” His voice purred, sending butterflies in a flurry within you. With a small bow he slipped out the front door and into Cannibal Plaza taking your breath with him.

You spun as the door shut, swearing you saw a… shadow follow him? 

Fuck, you needed to figure this guy out fast, but that was why you were here wasn’t it? Rosie knew all the best gossip in Pentagram City, she was the ideal source to go to for information on Alastor without raising suspicion at the Hotel. Couldn’t let any of the Natives think you too interested in the Radio Demon. 

“You’re late.”

You spun to face Rosie, a hand on her hip, one eyebrow sky high in suspicion. 

Shaking off the conflicting emotions stirring within you, you met her energy, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It appears you were entertained in my absence.” 

“Don’t start with the attitude, young lady.” She waved a finger at you as she led you into the parlor. 

A set of tea was waiting, half drunk and already cold - tea which was supposed to be for you had you been on time. 

“Susan was extra talkative this morning,” you huffed, taking the chair across from her usual spot. “Seems she missed me.”

The Overlord began tidying up the tray, but as you watched her collect the cups, you couldn’t help but wonder something. “Was that planned?” You huffed.

She gave you a look as if you had asked a stupid question. 

“Why?” You grommeled, shrinking into the chair.

“Posture!” She waved her finger at you. You rolled your eyes but obeyed. “It appears Alastor is back from his sabbatical - which I was only made aware of yesterday when he came in here with a torn suit. I asked you here to create a pho-run-in with the Overlord so that you might be aware of his presence, considering the events of tomorrow.” She placed the tray on the side counter. 

“Wait…” Your ears perked up. Did you hear her correctly? You swallowed hard. 

“I didn’t get a chance to learn of his endeavors with the Hotel until this morning. He made quite a stir yesterday, and when Alastor is in a bad mood you tend to keep conversation short.” She snapped her fingers and a new tray appeared - tea steaming and ready to be served. 

Every nerve in your body was screaming at you. “Rosie, did you…” 

“Now, come to find my surprise when I learned that he had not just already met you, but already had suspicions of your power. He asked questions, Thestral, questions about you, and I…”

“Oh my God, Rosie!” You jumped to your feet, arms clenched at your sides. 

“What has gotten into you?” She stopped mid pour, a hand feigning surprise on her chest. 

“Did you just say that Alastor is an Overlord?” Your heart was beating at a million miles an hour now. 

Taking a breath, the woman who had become like a mother to you finished pouring your cup before she set the tea kettle back onto the tray. She took her cup and plate in hand before finally answering your question. “Yes.” 

You stopped breathing completely. “Fuck,” you mumbled before slowly melting back into the chair. 

Oh my God, how could you be so stupid! Of course the Radio Demon was more powerful than you could ever have imagined. Of course the Radio Demon was an Overlord. Of course an OVERLORD had to be the Hotel manager. Of course an OVERLORD had to sleep across the hall from you! All the planning you put together, all the research, all the preparation and now you had to deal with this! 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Rosie sipped her tea - jasmine, your favorite. 

Alastor had beef with the Vees. He pissed off Vox to the point that it overloaded his circuits and shut the entire grid down. No wonder you didn’t see him in the commercial. What Overlord would want one of his biggest enemies being able to capture him using his greatest asset of surveillance - a camera. 

Sir Pentious came to challenge Alastor your very first day at the Hotel because he had heard that Alastor was back! Which meant the Hotel was now a target! Which made you a target! Alastor’s mere presence was attracting attention - attention you didn’t want and would inevitably get in the way of your plans! 

You had always been a behind the scenes type of person. Operating behind a mask was your specialty. Merely shedding the cloak was filling you to the brim with anxiety and now you had to deal with this! 

No! No! No! No! 

“Thestral you’re burning my couch,” Rosie scolded. 

Looking down, blue flames licked the seat’s plush arm rest. Silently cursing, you pulled the power back in and suffocated it, leaving behind a bit of blackened fabric.

“This is going to be a problem,” you spat through gritted teeth.

Now you knew why everyone was so afraid of him. 

“Why are you so surprised? I thought you knew by the way you were acting when you ran into him in my parlour. Actually, now that I think about it, you looked more smitten than… Huh!” Rosie gasped, her teeth growing into a smile. “Are you sweet on him?” 

Your jaw dropped. “What? No!” 

That was completely illogical! You, sweet on an Overlord!? Preposterous! 

“My dear, you’re blushing!” She practically sang. 

Your hands flew to your cheeks so fast you almost slapped yourself. “Just… What… I… Are you going to take my measurements or not?” 

Rosie laughed before pulling out a measuring tape. “Oh, I am going to dress you to the nines, tomato!” She gave you a knowing smile as she shepherded you to the block before a set of mirrors. 

“Rosie, I do not like the Radio Demon. If anything he poses a problem. A really big problem.” You stepped onto the block as she circled you like a vulture. 

“I am pulling out all the stops for you! Two new dresses, maybe a couple pair of those trousers you adore so much, and definitely a few ideas for a night out on the town. Just in case.” She winks at you in the mirror. “And new shoes too! Those little heels are done for.” 

“Rosie… Just..” You sank your face in your hands. 

She stopped immediately. “What’s wrong, darling? Talk to Auntie Rosie.” 

Running your hands through your hair, you took a deep breath, releasing as much anxiety as you could with it. 

Things were a lot easier when you operated in the shadows. 

You faked a small smile before pulling the money clip from your pocket, trying to turn the conversation to something you could handle. “At least let me pay you this time.” 

Rosie’s face turned into one of determination and pride. “You got it back from Crim, didn’t ya’?” 

You pulled your other hand from your pocket to reveal the black calling card. “Indeed I did.” 

_______________________________________

You took your time heading to the Entertainment District, letting Rosie’s words simmer within your brain. 

The Radio Demon was an Overlord and a mysterious one at that. He disappeared seven years ago, only to magically reappear recently under the guise of Charlie’s Hotel Manager. 

Funny how Lilith also disappeared seven years ago. Funny how this Extermination just so happens to be a special one. 

But before Alastor took his paid time off, it seems he was quite the shit around here. That at least explains the radio broadcasts: the incessant screaming of souls Alastor plays at whim. You had to admire that part. The man had class, he had art, he had theatrics. You just killed and walked away, not wanting the media spotlight, but Alastor? He thrived off of it. He was a walking entertainment broadcast dependent upon the attention of others. 

God, and his ego? You didn’t even want to start down that road. No wonder he got so pissy when you didn’t cower before him like thousands of others do. Fuck, the only one not afraid of him is Princess Morningstar - not because she considers herself more powerful than him but because she is naive. Alastor would kill her in a heartbeat if it meant accomplishing his goals.

Speaking of, what were his goals? Surely he didn’t wish to climb the ladder of hotel management. Alastor wasn’t an assistant type of guy. He had to be the boss. So whatever plan he has, playing make believe with the Princess has put him in a superior position despite what it appears. 

Was that it then? Was taking down Charlie his endgame? But why? Charlie doesn’t rule, she doesn’t utilize her power, she doesn’t do anything. She just kind of hangs out with Vaggie and cleans up chemical spills and hugs trees and shit. She wasn’t someone all powerful to target and take down - not like Lilith. 

Wait. Fuck. Lilith.

That’s what this is about. He disappeared seven years ago with Lilith and he’s back now because of Lilith. 

So get to Charlie to get to Lilith, but what does Alastor want with Lilith?  

So entranced in thought you finally realized you were heading in the complete wrong direction and had stumbled into a part of town you had never been. 

A window of television screens suddenly shifts to a bright yellow light. “Voxtech Angelic Security coming soon!” The ad chimes along with the new Voxtech logo sprouting a pair of wings. 

That was going to prove a problem for your late night activities. Not that anyone has ever really been able to capture you on camera before. You're a mass of black smoke when you fly and a dark hooded figure with glowing yellow eyes when you weren’t. Hell, the entirety of Pentagram City thought you were a dude. A little sexist but whatever… 

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath before turning down an alley you were hoping was a short cut. 

“That fucking, fuck!” Vox comes flying out of a side door, trying desperately to tie his bow tie which has now become a knot around his neck. 

You would have hid, you would have turned around and ran the moment you saw him, had he not run right into you. 

Vox’s back slams into your shoulder, knocking you to the ground. The media demon turns on you, his one eye glowing red, a look of pure wrath flashing across his screen. 

“Watch it!” He bites.

You give him an exasperated look before climbing to your feet. Great, now this dress is truly ruined! Your right hip is covered in black dirt, and there’s a tear along the hem. Rosie is going to kill you. 

“You ran into me,” you brush your skirt. You didn’t snap at him, you simply stated the truth. 

The demon is taken aback. How dare you speak to him like that! Did you not know who he is? 

“You want to repeat that again you, little…” He stops mid sentence, his attention drawn to the hand you were extending him. “What are you doing?” 

You gesture to the bow tie, nonchalantly, “I had a lot of brothers growing up. I got good at tying ties and bow ties and you look like you could use some help.” You nod to his left thumb, thoroughly stuck in the knot. 

He raises an eyebrow in confusion, staring at you as if you had just sprouted a second head. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes and begin unraveling the silk around his neck. The demon stiffens beneath your touch, freezing in place. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head as you worked. 

It was a simple red bow tie, the slipperiness of the fabric made it difficult to get the ends even, but a few twists and you had it back to normal. You even closed the distance, folding the band around his neck beneath the collar of his shirt. 

He doesn’t have that aura of static like Alastor does nor that sense of coldness which hangs about his shadow. Really you expected more similarities between the two, given that they were practically each other’s counterparts. But here, now, you didn’t get the same feelings being around Vox like you did the Radio Demon. Actually it was lack thereof. 

It was probably just Vox’s lack of power. Really and truthfully you meant it when you said Vox is only ⅓ of an Overlord. Without the other Vees, he isn’t a threat. Alastor? That man was full power in only one suit. 

Wait… why were you so focused on comparing him to Alastor right now? 

“There,” you slapped your hands against your thighs. “Ta-da!” You gave him a show of jazz hands before continuing down the alleyway. A shiver runs down your spine as you could feel his gaze still on your form. God, he’s such a creep.

“Hey! Wait!” The media demon calls after you. 

You roll your eyes before spinning, cursing under your breath. 

The look on Vox’s face made you pause. Was that…? You sniffed. Curiosity? No, that wasn’t quite right. You sniffed again, not able to place the emotion. You’ve never really smelled anything like it before. 

The demon clears his throat, suddenly self conscious. “Can I at least offer you a ride to wherever you’re going… as a thank you?” He crosses his arms in front of him, taking a few slow steps in your direction. 

Fuck that. The last thing you wanted was Vox to know anything about you. Anything at all. 

“No, thanks,” you spin again and…

“Can I at least know your name?” He tries again.

Ugh! 

“Why?” You bite, your hands finding your hips. 

The demon looks confused before his screen flashes back to a neutral face. He smiles and it’s far softer than you expected, “I just want to know the name of my savior.” He chuckles. “I got a little mixed up back there and am grateful for your services in fixing the situation.” 

Okay… You’ve never actually seen Vox be nice before. This was weird. 

Your eyes trail his form from his shoes to the broken antenna atop his head. You’ve never actually seen the media demon in person, but he cleans up well. The suit was nice but the hat was a little corny. No one wears top hats anymore. Also, his head is a flat television screen, how does that thing even stay up there? 

“Uh, no.”

He blinks. “No?”

“Yeah, no.” You repeat. Was he dumb? 

He scoffs, “do you know who I am?” 

You spin, not daring to stop this time, “yup!” You waved to him over your shoulder, not looking back. “Bye!” 

______________________________________

Vox sprints through the door, the wood vibrating off its hinges. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Velvette snaps from her place on the couch. 

“I don’t know…” The media demon slams his hands against his desk, a look of madness on his face as his one eye blinks red. “I didn’t get her name…” He whispers to himself. 

“Who?” Velvette smacks her lips against a lollipop, a loud ‘pop!’ with each suck. 

“The most beautiful creature in Hell…”

Link to Chapter Three!

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[cassiusfen]

This isn't my art, (it's made by @ TheHearthFox over on Twitter) but I wanted to make a long post about why this work in particular speaks to me so goddamn much. I think such a massive part of the queer experience -- and also the furry experience -- is about the abstract. This can be seen in so many different aspects of furry "culture," from the concept of fursonas to kink and and other fetish content. You and I will never know what it's like to be a werewolf and transform under the full moon into the form of a big hulking furry beast. However, us furries create art and other works about the idea of it anyway. We never will be able to be our fursonas -- our often idealized and "perfect" versions of ourselves -- and part of that really hurts. It hurts so bad honestly, to the point where I can't quite put it into words. In terms of queer culture, I will never know what it is like to be a cis woman, and that also messes with me a lot. Yet, I'm still trans, my identity can change, I can perceive myself as whatever I damn well please. Identity allows you to shape yourself and the world around you in your own image, even if not everyone can see its beauty.

We have ways to get at least somewhat close to how we feel in our abstraction. VRChat allows you to make an avatar of what ever you want, whether it's your fursona or just an ideal version of you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be you, it could be anyone or anything really. We have a whole industry based around creating big ass costumes that allow people to at least look something like their desired character. But it's not enough. It's never enough. I ain't religious, but sometimes I feel like I've bitten the apple, been kicked out of the garden, and now I'm left to fend for myself with an identity that my physicality will never match. When I made my fursona using an avatar base in vrchat and configured it to match my real world body scales and looked down, I honestly started crying. I take the headset off, and I'm still me. Everyone takes the headset or fursuit off and they're still the body they were given, not what they would choose. Our reality is objective, and there's no way to really change that. We can act like animal people online all day, but the moment that screen shuts off, the moment we walk away, that warm, fuzzy feeling (hehe) fades.

To think abstract is to think beyond what you can normally sense. You will never get to brush the knots out of your fur in the morning, or play with your antennae while anxious (I see you bug people). We can still have those ideas, however. I know I'm on the third goddamn paragraph and I'm just now talking about the artwork I linked but this is an important concept to me. Usually, when I think of the abstract, it feels unreal, "fuzzy" so to speak. However, in HearthFox's piece, the objective reality appears out of focus and pixelated. It feels like even if we are unable to fully embrace the abstract, we can still embrace what we can of it, and bring some sort of color to a world that doesn't feel like it is made for us. The colors being outside of the lines could suggest that our abstract perception is maybe just "painted on" to the world around us, but is that a bad thing? Is it bad to take things in from the world around you, but still look at it all in your own unique way? I think not. This also isn't only about therian identity, or furry identity, or even queer identity -- it's also about neurodivergence. You are never in the wrong for thinking about the world in a way that is viewed as "non-standard" by the rest of the world. If you see yourself as a wolf, bee, fox, bear, raccoon, a fucking plane, it's not a bad thing. We can still identify however we want, and this modern way of looking at identity is the best way for us to embrace the abstract.

Go wild, go fucking stupid. Love yourself, if you're a fox, be a fox, there are ways you can feel that way, even if it's not all of the time. We can fight, we can love, we can still find ways to elation, even if sometimes existence itself feels wrong to you. This work is but one side of abstract thinking. Look at the color the fox has compared to the objective. Look how the fur drapes, how it runs down the body, or how the snout expresses emotion. Sometimes it feels melancholic, but you cannot tell me that trying your absolute damnedest to live your identity doesn't at least bring some color to your otherwise dreary and unfocused world.

Stay safe, love yourself no matter what.

[bcacstuff]

Don't you think Sam should defend her

Well, I can imagine people would think as a first reaction he should, or should say something about it. But then again, if he does, I'm sure the fans who do these stupid things, would immediately see it as him confirming some sort of relationship or something. You know how this fandom, or better said the deranged ones in it are.

He can't do right in this case, he's between a rock and a hard place. We're talking about 2 women, should he address the entire fandom for this? And with that give it perhaps unwanted and more attention then it deserves? What will be the result of that, you might ask yourself. Of course we know there's much more going on in this fandom, but it isn't reserved solely for this fandom:

I've received a link a while back, and still have this article open on one of my tabs in the browser. I had the intention to answer the Anon that sent it to me a few weeks ago, but as there were so many things going on, I didn't want it to get buried by the many other posts.

It's this article:

There are some really good parts in it that can be translated one on one for this fandom, even though the artists in this article are musicians. Already in the first paragraphs you can read:

This summer, norms of pop flipped when musicians started telling off their fans. Leading the pack was Chappell Roan, the 26-year-old breakout star of 2024. In a statement on Instagram, she outlined the “too many nonconsensual physical and social interactions” she had had with fans, including people hassling her family and friends.

An expert view on it:

“The relationship between fans and artists is a power balance,” says Dr Lucy Bennett, a lecturer in journalism, media and culture at Cardiff University. “Sometimes the power can tip back and forth.” Fandom, she explains, is a deeply emotional thing where people can feel a sense of home and belonging. It can lead to an intense connection to the music, something only heightened by the access to artists provided by social media. “But the problem that we have is how fans can forge a direct connection when they’re one among potentially millions that follow the artist. Those artists can’t reach out to every fan online. But to those who aren’t noticed, how does this make them feel? And what lengths may some fans go to get noticed?”

A former deranged fan's experience

Someone who has grappled with this themselves is Emily, a 26-year-old Taylor Swift fan from Idaho. Emily, who asked to be referred to under a pseudonym for fear of being doxed, was once a dedicated Swiftie, spending thousands of dollars on merchandise and concert tickets. During the Lover era of 2019, however, she began to see contradictions in Swift’s image and found her sudden embrace of politics inauthentic and calculated. “I was upset because it seemed the person I thought she was wasn’t real,” she says. She was also put off by the growing toxicity among a fandom that no longer felt like a community. Prior to Swift’s hit album 1989, “Taylor had said that she wasn’t going to interact with fans on social media because one fan might feel more important than the other,” she says. But Swift began doing secret live sessions for fans, found via fan accounts online. “It did exactly what she thought that might,” Emily says. “Fans were suddenly fighting with each other saying, ‘You’re not good enough because you don’t obsess with her on the level I do, or ‘You don’t have as much merch as I do and you don’t know every song like I do.’ It was kind of gross.” Emily became so distraught that she would vent to her friends about her disappointment. “When I look back it now,” she says, “it’s like, wow. I was really deranged. Taylor Swift doesn’t know who the hell I am. She doesn’t care what I think. This is actually a me problem. I needed to step back and realise that.” She cites social media and the 24/7 access to information about Swift as one reason why she became so obsessed with the singer’s life. “I had to get some hobbies outside of discussing Taylor Alison Swift.”

And again the expert's view as an end conclusion

To realign the relationship between fans and artists, Bennett believes that musicians may need to step away from sharing so much of their lives on social media. “But it’s really important that they speak up if they feel that they’re experiencing unacceptable behaviour from the fans,” she adds.

It's a really good read, so if you're interested and have a bit of time, I'd recommend reading the whole article. There is no easy answer to this phenomena or to your question Anon.

PS. To Anon sending me the link a few weeks ago, thank you 🧡. You were right, I found this interesting. I'm sorry it took so long to post it, but it deserves all the attention.

[pursuitseternal]

𝓥𝓮𝔁 𝓜𝓮: a “Hate” Smut with Lord Astarion update to “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | E | 3.5 K

🎨 by @kowashites full image ON TWT

Summary: A year after the Netherbrain, you go to celebrate in style, but your husband Lord has gotten on your last nerve, and tonight is the last straw. It’ll be fun pushing to find the edge of his control… until he snaps.

CW: “hate fuck” (taking out all your irritation about those annoying things your partner does), CNC (intentionally provoking rough/angry sex), semi-public sex, against a wall, spanking and choking, marking, rough fuck with deep feelings

Previous ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Another gala to commemorate the anniversary of the Netherbrain’s defeat, a less-than-sordid affair, hosted by the Duke. Not Wyll, you grumble, not your friend, not while he’s adventuring in Avernus with your favorite Hellion. No… his father will play host to the usual stuffy, humdrum sort of gathering. A typical Baldurian ball lies ahead for you… wine and toasting, dancing and discussions. Hells, you already dread having to recount your adventure for the umteenth time. The crash… the Goblins�� the Shadowcurse… you roll your eyes as the carriage sways on the stone streets through the City. It’s a short ride from the Palace to High Hall, the site of your final battle, now amazingly rebuilt in under a year. A little magic and a lot of money can fix anything, you grumble.

A lot of money, no small thanks to your Lord who sits across from you, his head leaned back against the carriage wall as you jostle and sway. Truth be told, you would have rather walked the little jaunt to the party, but Astarion wouldn’t hear of it.

The Vampire Ascendant must arrive in style, he had crooned, summoning the gaudiest carriage, the one with gold flake embossing, darkest black paint, and rubies from Thay worked into the gilding.

And what was more, his own outfit shimmered, a pearlescent silk suit, embroidered on almost every inch, with shining elven shoes to match. He’s preened himself perfectly like the peacock he is.

After all, it’s his anniversary too—a year as the Ascendant. A year with you in his beating heart and in his warm bed.

Insufferable. Proud and regal and sensual and a total arrogant, raging bastard. Gods, you love him. But you also hate him sometimes.

Like the way his fingers are playing with that little dagger he keeps at his hip… it’s almost as natural as breathing for him the way he flips it over and over in his palms, tapping the edge of the blade on the sole of his shoe. Easy to do with one leg bent over his knee.

Tap… flick... tap... flick... He’s not even watching, head resting back and that grin on his face that screams he knows he’s wonderful and powerful and desirable…

Fuck him.

Actually, maybe you’ll tease him with words and touches tonight in front of all those guests. Work him up into a frenzy and then deny him. Your mouth quirks into a grin, your fang biting into your bottom lip at the mere thought. The idea of driving him mad makes your insides all warm and knotted, and it makes your cunt instantly wetter.

Shit, he knows. You curse yourself for not being careful with your thoughts, for not guarding your feelings that can so easily slip from your mind to his down your soul-bond.

His nostrils flare at the scent, his lips curl in that devious smirk, and lastly, those crimson eyes open to level his gaze upon you. “Why, my Consort, what has you so very… deliciously… flustered?”

Let the games commence, you think as you force all true thoughts of how best to torture him deep inside you. “Oh, it’s nothing love. Just excited to be touted and toasted as the Saviour of the City again,” you preen, fluffing the lace that lines the plunging neckline of your bodice. “Let’s be honest, love, I’ve been playing second fiddle to you ever since. It’s always the Vampire Ascendant first and then his precious, darling Consort.” You mimic his posture, reclining back with your ankle over your other knee, arms behind your head. Decidedly unlady and un-consort like.

Astarion narrows his eyes, shifting forward to lean into your space within the confines of the carriage. “Careful, my dear. You’re beginning to sound rather arrogant and ungrateful…” he purrs, his voice rolling in his throat, edged with that tint of danger and threat.

It makes you shiver more.

You roll your eyes, blatantly petulant, “Forgive me if I’m excited the accolades and adulations are pointed towards me tonight.” You pause to pat your hand on his knee, cajoling him. “Well, on us, I suppose.”

His grip snaps around your wrist, using the sway of the carriage to pull you into his lap. “Careful darling,” he hisses, fanged smile glinting in the moonlight. “I bi—”

“I’m well aware you bite,” you interrupt, unafraid. You gnash your own fangs in a cheeky grin. “So do I now…”

His face twists in a smirk, the kind that makes your walls flutter around nothing, wishing for something. “You little…”

As he crowds you like the predator he is, the carriage rolls to a halt, the door opening to reveal High Hall, the very picture of festivity and merriment.

His smirk fades to a muted smile, his dagger is sheathed once more at his hip, and you wait for him to help you down from the carriage box.

Torches and banners, music and wine, you can’t help but let it go to your head. Maybe you let your hips sway just a little more from side to side, maybe you don’t take Astarion’s proffered arm to lead you into the gala, and maybe, just maybe, you delight to feel him glaring daggers into your back.

The ballroom is alight with a thousand candles, with golden chandeliers and bright burning flames in the sconces. Couples dance, and politicians and Patriars toast the defeat of the Netherbrain and the rebuilding of the City. The only thing flowing more freely than the champagne is the fawning praise that everyone lavishes upon you. Men compliment your battle prowess, and women your attire and sparkling scarlet eyes.

And any attempt to include your vampiric partner glowering over your shoulder is easily redirected in your favor. It’s been an hour of playing the hero, and with each interaction, you can sense him closer and closer to losing control. It’s so much fun, you think. Currently, a noble couple of Half Elves stand hanging on your every word, enraptured to hear your tale. And for once, you don’t mind the effort to retell it for the tenth time tonight—not when Astarion’s fingers claw into your hip, his arm wrapped snug around your waist when you gloss over the details of his Ascension.

“Spectacular,” the man congratulates you, applauding with a wide smile on his swarthy face. “And of course, your union with Lord Ancunín has only ensured the city be rebuilt speedily and even better than before.”

The wave of relief and pride that comes off of Astarion irritates the shit out of you. But you hide it behind an easy smile as he takes your chin and lifts your mouth to his for a possessive kiss. “Of course,” he purrs, “this City would be rubble without us, just as my Consort would be nothing without me. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Terms of engagement. A summons for battle. That’s what he’s issued.

You give him a chaste little kiss. “Oh, I don’t know. I had many allies of even greater power and magic,” you reply as you extricate yourself from his arms. “The list was endless, really. And while Astarion packs quite the bite, I had far more powerful allies in the final battle here in these halls.” You feel the ripples of anger simmering under his pale skin, and you swear you can hear his teeth grinding and gnashing over your shoulder. “Dark forces of the Ascendant?” you giggle, “a handful of ghouls and shadow mastiffs. It was nothing compared to having an Illithid in our ranks, or…”

“You’ll excuse us, won’t you?” Astarion interrupts abruptly, a gentlemanly nod of his head as his nails dig into you so hard, it tears into the silk of your bodice.

The poor Half-Elven couple are left in stunned silence as he pulls you towards the door of the grand chamber. “A word in private… my dear,” he hisses into your ear. “Perhaps more than one word… perhaps more than only words will be required for this discussion.” He snarls the word, spittle covering your cheek as his rage reaches its boiling point.

“What ho!” a familiar, jolly voice calls your name. And much to Astarion’s chagrin, he forgets your new title of ‘Lady…’ Gale comes your way, fairly elbowing his path through the frilly crowd until he’s standing so close to you, arms wrapping around you awkwardly as Astarion refuses to let your waist go. “Apologies, I just couldn’t resist. It’s been six months since last I saw the pair of you, and, well, you know me: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Particularly when the heart no longer has a certain Netherese blight and…”

“Is there something you wanted, Wizard?” Astarion snaps, literally closing his mouth so forcefully his teeth click shut.

Gale remains unphased, used to the vampire's temperament. “‘How are you?’ was my question… I suppose. Is domestic bliss filling the walls of your newly redone palace?”

You snort, a genuine reaction to the implication of anything ‘domestic’ when it comes to the Vampire Ascendant. But you spy an opportunity here, a chance to unleash a few of Astarion’s more private habits that peeve you. Ones he would rather die… again… than have revealed to Gale. “Where do I begin? The entire place is refurbished, you’d hardly recognize it. Astarion here has spared no expense to make the place bright and cheerful. Though it does get rather tiresome with only one another for companionship. You should come for a stay, Gale!”

“I’m sure the Wizard is far too busy with his responsibilities in Waterdeep,” Astarion manages to dismiss the notion with an elegant wave of his hand.

“Oh pish posh,” you giggle ostentatiously. “What? Embarrassed that Gale would observe the decidedly domestic ‘bliss’ we share? That he’ll hear how loudly you chew at dinner? Or notice that you leave your things everywhere around the palace? Or that… hells forbid… he hears you far—”

Your final, embarrassing comment is swallowed by his own mouth on yours. His arms pick you up like you’re a doll, a plaything, and he carries you to the door of the ballroom. Your feet swing midair, your arms pinned to your side, leaving a gaped-mouth Gale staring after you. But he knows better than to follow.

First alcove from the entryway, and you are shoved against the cool, smooth stone wall. Moonlight falls in sharp slats from the tall crystal panes. The angles of his face catch your breath with their ferocity as he glowers down on you, hand to your throat. “I can’t believe you,” he hisses, “treating me like that in front of everyone…” his voice is dripping with venom, heart racing with enraged palpitations. “Tell me,” he whispers so tight and pressed in his throat, “do you hate me?”

You give an insolent grin as his fingers flex gently on your windpipe. “Hate you?” You swallow, your voice box gripped just tight enough to rasp. “You irritate me, annoy me, and sometimes you outright piss me off.”

“Is that so?”

“And sometimes… sometimes… I do hate you….”

He leans away from your face, moving into the shaft of moonlight. The pale glow catches in his silver curls, the swirling ruby depths of his eyes glowing. You’re not sure if it’s from magic or rage or light, but it’s decidedly there. It makes your stomach bind in knots. That dangerous light shines brighter as he licks his lips. “Well, at least you’re not indifferent towards me, that would be a tragedy. I’ll tell you a secret…” His lips tickle in the sensitive spot beneath your ear, warm breath ghosting down your cool skin. “Sometimes… I hate you too.”

With hot breath and tongue, he consumes you, reminding you that you don’t need to breathe to survive anymore. Good thing. You’d have passed out by now as he kisses, your head spinning and lungs burning. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he growls into your mouth, hand slipping from your windpipe to claw roughly around your breast, ripping it out from the deep cut of your bodice first. “Tonight is, after all, all about you…. Your victory, your allure. Hundreds of eyes begging for a glance, a moment of your attention. Same as me,” he spits the words between clenched fangs. “You dare to ignore me, insult me. After all that I did for you… with you… ungrateful wretch.”

His hands have already bunched your skirt, arm wrapped to pin your thigh to his waist so he can grind into you. The angrier he becomes, the harder his hips press that confined cock into your sex, back and forth… back and forth.

You take a deep breath finally as soon as his hand releases your neck. Retaliating, you grip into his head and yank, keeping those gnashing teeth from your undead vein. “What about you? Vain and power hungry and controlling bastard,” you sneer, finger clawing your nails into his perfectly sculpted curls.

Hands fumbling between your body to snap open the fastens to his pants, your fingers roughly grabbing the outline of his erection hard enough to make him squeal. His gaze burns with hunger—carnal and sanguine—eyes narrowed in anger even as he smiles.

Roughly, you grip his cock and squeeze him in his pants, making that little bit of precum at its tip dribble out more, enough to stain his front.

“Playing with fire, my cheeky little pup,” he growls, gripping beneath your raised thigh to slot himself tantalizingly close… the hot, thick head of his cock pushing its way along your seam. But not in it. Not yet. “And here I thought you were deep in your annoyance and hatred for me?” That cock pulls back, sliding again where you are positively dripping down your thighs. “You may hate me, but my cock...” he leans in until his lips suck your ear loudly, “you still have a soft spot for my cock, it seems.” He lets just the head of him dip inside your channel… once, twice… then he pulls back out. And you have to swallow a moan. “More like a tight, warm, and wet spot…”

His laughter encases you, deafens you to the din of the gala that is dangerously close to your hiding spot.

“You want me to fuck you,” Astarion hisses, lips and tongue tickling the creases of your ear. “Even hating me, you want me to try to make you moan and sob and weep for your lover…” It’s not a question. He’s happy to play the rules of your game, abiding by the terms of engagement you have been dancing around at this ball.

You give him your own version of his liar’s smile. “No… no I don’t want any of that,” you taunt, sardonic tone and batting eyes to give an effort of innocence. “Don’t do it. Don’t shove your cock between my thighs. Don’t come near me. You disgust me.” Just for good measure you lower your leg, letting his length slip from under you. “Now, let the belle of the ball return to her party so she can be toasted as the hero she is…”

Astarion snarls, feral and angry, a smile on his face all the while. He spins you around and traps you right back where he had you, but this time, he shoves himself to his balls, sheathed totally inside you from behind. “Fear not, you’ll return soon enough,” he’s panting in the back of your ear as he pounds you, your cheek pressing against the stone wall with each thrust. “You’ll return with your insides painted white and my cum dripping down your thighs, just for good measure. You’ll return, my insolent saviour, and get all the praise you’re due, but you’re going to do it… reeking of sex, stinking of me inside you.”

Your back arches, body burning its hatred and annoyance in the flames of pleasure. Fuck, it feels good. All his pent up rage pummels your insides, his possessive hands pinning you in place and wandering over every inch of your body, a body he has worshiped tirelessly and daily for a year. His panting mouth lowers to your neck, and for a moment you fear his bite… Instead he marks you… little brands that will hide so well for the rest of the night beneath your hair. Over and over again, he does this, leaving a trail of love bites encircling the back of your neck, a collar of his own possessive marking. Hand extended, he smacks your ass, your breath hitching to swallow your groan of delight as he gives you another mark of his claim to conceal beneath your skirts. Another spank, just enough to drive you towards the edge in that way he knows you crave.

He ruts into you from behind, and you, splayed with your hands and face against the stone wall, you’re smiling… “Gods, you can’t stand me having any power, any eyes on me that aren’t your red ones.”

“Can you blame me? You’re mine, darling. I’ve shared everything with you,” his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music and chatter in the ballroom and over the slap of your bodies as he fucks harder. “I ascended for us, for you… I fought at your side, gave you my gifts of immortality and sunwalking… and what’s more I gave you my heart, my trust. You are the first person I ever truly, obsessively cared about. And this is the thanks I get?”

Hips snapping slow, hands gripping nails into your hip and neck. He’s close, his pace growing more deliberate and deep. You gasp, his words piercing deeper than his cock as he bottoms out to the hilt with each thrust. Guilt slices into your gut, and you arch your back again, your face pressing against his cheek. “I can be thankful and find you incredibly… vexing… at the same time…” you pant.

“Vex you? Little old me… vexes you?” he’s laughing now, a wicked delight where there was rage a moment before. “Show me, show me how much I vex you,” he smirks against your cheek, fingers wrapped prettily around your throat until he feels you shudder. Your climax slams into you, a wave of heat and twisting muscles and fluttering walls. And gods, do you moan, do you scream for him. Unmistakable as that noise is, you’re sure someone will come to aid you in a moment.

But a moment is all that is required as he’s groaning and coming, head pressed into your back, hand clenched around your waist and throat. His seed fills your cunt, warmth instantly sticking and dripping down your thighs. Damp breath on your skin, a bit of drool wetting that spot, and Astarion kisses you at the nape of your neck.

His voice is rough, ragged from exertion and teeming with emotion. “Well,” he rasps, “as long as we are being honest… there is something that vexes me too, darling. I knew I never would be enough for you, that you degrade yourself to stay at my side.”

“Degrade myself?” you whisper, turning as he pulls from your cunt. His eyes are dull again, that fire of rage smothered and replaced by a raw vulnerability. That was a sight you had not expected as a part of your games tonight. “My love, do you still believe that, after all this time?”

“A year is nothing for the life of an immortal…” he trails off, a bit of his mask snapping back into place as he laces his cock inside his pants and rolls his shoulders to his full height, “especially one as powerful as I.”

You smack him on his shoulder, playful but powerful in your own way. “I do not see it as such,” you reply, “I see you as the man you are, a bastard sometimes, but a glorious one, one that has my heart. But even if you have me, body and soul, you, you do still vex me, irritate me, and make me hate some of the things you do.”

“Well,” he preens, making a show of fixing the lace of your bodice collar where he’s torn it a bit, “as long as it’s only vexation, don’t pretend you hate this, you love this… you love me…”

You lean in and give him the most feral kiss you think you ever have, all teeth and tongue as you pull him into your mouth with both hands. “Of course I do, that’s why you can annoy me so much, why I can feel bursts of such… passionate… hate.”

Astarion breaks the kiss first, thumb swiping along your lower lip. “So long as it’s passionate,” he teases back with a petulant smirk. “You do know, my darling, I am proud of your accomplishments…”

“Our accomplishments…”

His answering smile is disjointedly tender after the rough fuck against the wall. A little nod of his head, and he’s offering you his arm with all genteel decorum. That’s when you sense it, see it in his shoulders and bearing. A confidence and assurance that, despite vexation, you’re proud of him too. And of course you are, you think as you reenter the festivities, rubbing your neck and backside with a smile.

[see-arcane]

A message to all the assorted unscrupulous undead: Beware the Ides of March.

To everyone else: Grab your kukri blades, your bowie knives, your stakes, your bone saws, and whatever else you have on hand to appropriately accessorize with your new copy of The Vampyres.

The book is out! Loose! Running rampant and bloodstained through the terrains of eBook and paperback alike!

My beautiful little baby, toddling into the literary world to deliver havoc unto the dastardly bastards of the revenant realm. I’m so proud. (And so happy to feel the stress headache finally start to crack.)

Now that The Vampyres is out in the open, a brief FAQ under the cut:

Where can I get the eBook?

Check out the Universal Book Link (UBL) here:

It’ll show you all the places you can grab a virtual vampyre by the throat.

Where can I get the paperback?

For folks in ‘murrica, I’d say hit up Bookshop.org to go and grab it from your physical store of choice:

You can also just search The Vampyres C.R. Kane and see the waterfall of options. Not sure of the exact timeline, but it should be more widely available in the coming weeks. At least hereabouts:

Pictured: Places to potentially purchase a paperback.

Can I get it at my library?

If you ask for it, yes! You’ll need the ISBNs when filling out your library’s request form, so:

eBook ISBN: 9798218374594

Paperback ISBN: 9798218374587

What’s the status on that paperback cover business?

Current status is still ???

At least in the sense that I’m not sure what version of the book cover you might get at the moment. Original matte? Temporary glossy? Updated matte that’s here to stay? No idea at the moment. My self-publishing page shows the update’s confirmed, but the online stores are still using the first version as the preview image and I’m not sure when that gets swapped out. At least the books are all print-on-demand, so whatever you order, just know it’s not coming from some thrown-away backup heap. It’s fresh from the book oven press.

Anything else I need to know?

First, reviews are extremely welcome! I am running on negative budget when it comes to waving my little flag to announce that I Made a Scary Vampire Book, so I’m really relying on word-of-mouth if I want it to actually get its head above water. Leaving stars and comments wherever you can, be it in the online stores, the Goodreadses or Smashwordses or whatever else, would be a big help.

(Really though, I can and will dissolve into a puddle of relieved ego if I see so much as one (1) Nice Comment on Tumblr, my cesspool of choice.*)

*This is not hyperbole. I can count on one hand how many PROMOTION © ™ posts I’ve made on Twitter and have fingers left over. This novella is tailored to my fellow fiendish bookworms on here.

Second, to those coming by this stuff for the first time and don’t know what all this hoopla is about, a preview of my novella, The Vampyres, is available on my website. Give it a gander if you want to see under-appreciated classic supernatural bogeymen dropped into their own horror story.

Thirdly, lastly, vitally: thank you.

The Vampyres is a beautiful accident that came together out of an itch to rattle something out just for myself; a break from a bloated piece that had turned into a chore which burned me out and threw away the fun of scribbling. A lightweight read that saved me from being crushed by a cinderblock.

By the same token, the people on here have shouldered me up and out of the creative pit of thinking ‘This is all for nothing.’ For all that I talk of how much I’m powered by spite and the desire to Read a Specific Thing only to realize I Have to Write That Thing First, I’d be a liar if I said the kindness and excitement of the folks who’ve been reading my nonsense for (holy hell) TWO YEARS in the wake of the first big Dracula Daily surge didn’t have a major role in getting this thing done.

I did make The Vampyres for me. But it’s for you guys too. For everyone who saw one of my rambles or little fictions and spoke up to say, I love this! I was thinking this! I wanted this! Finally, finally!

When you crack open the cover for the first time, on a screen or in your hands, I want you to know I’m thinking Thank You at you. I hope you enjoy all the horrors inside.

Postscript:

If you want more info on other stuff I'm tinkering with, check out my website here:

[alekthefox]

This is about my post about a future fanfic where Aventurine beats Dr Ratio in chess. What you're reading now however is canonical proof+my theories on Veritas' opinion on Aventurine's intelligence.

@resagini You're right absolutely, however Dr. Ratio already knows Aventurine is extremely intelligent! (I'm not sure if you were implying he doesn't realise it in canon... But if that's not the case... then for those people you mentioned in the last few tags here's a little info :)

Penacony spoilers underneath, with receipts.

First of all why he wears the bust:

(Source of image: Honkai Star Rail wiki, under Dr. Ratio, voice-overs.)

He has never ever been seen wearing it when with Ave. Aventurine even teases him about it in Penacony story with the line of (I love the stupid pun, the word "bust" fits both of them):

This also means Aventurine has seen it before this. I'm unsure the time placement of Final Victor light cone as of right now. But it is possible Veritas changed his mind multiple times. Since Penacony though he's not worn it when with Aventurine. It is also possible he wears it when the two of them are with others who Ratio finds to be blubbering fools.

Note: Aventurine is a high rank P45, and a Stoneheart, within the STRATEGIC Investment Department. Whyyyy, pray tell, do people think of him so lowly????

Then there's Dr. Ratio in the Aventurine showcase saying they're not exactly friends and he's not so bad to work with unlike those insufferable fools. (And I adore the callout he gets from Aventurine and how flustered he gets urgh this man <3)

Official video

Friends quote: 0:50

Veritas admitting Aventurine is in control then getting flustered when the two are described to have "mutual understanding" ("wait... mutual? What did he say about me???? 🥺"): 5:30

YESSSS YOU CAN PUT ITALIC ON EMOJIS!

And I would love to remind everyone of the lines:

Yep. Dr. Ratio knew Aventurine's plan, or the majority of it. (PEOPLE PISS ME OFF WHEN LISTING THAT BETRAYAL AS A REASON THIS SHIP IS TOXIC.) That means Dr. Ratio knew that this extremely layered, thoroughly thought through (i did NOT just use those three words like it's normal what the hell) scheme, all came from Aventurine's mind (literally nobody else would think of this bullshit, from the self-destruction to the breaking of a cornerstone to the THREE cornerstones in use in the same place without the people, in possession of the Family etc etc). I believe extremely little parts of the Penacony situation was luck. Aventurine is lucky, yes, insanely. But he uses his luck as an advantage, not main weapon. He uses it as a mask, he is a gambler to many eyes. The doctor knows this. He doesn't believe in luck but in probability, a controlled and calculable version of luck. He didn't trust his luck, but his mind. So Ratio played his part.

Another thing is that during Penacony you can retrace, during story, Aventurine and Ratio's steps. Literally. Playing as Acheron you can examine the footprints and it's stated that whoever was walking there are equals.

Despite Aventurine having full power over Ratio through the IPC authority and the cornerstone power and having him always follow his lead (begrudgingly or not), they walk side by side.

Even with Ratio being much taller and therefore faster, they walk side by side. (An easy excuse that doesn't involve feelings that both could use to avoid this respect.) Even with Ratio thinking a lot of people are morons, he walks side by side with Aventurine, without his statue mask. Even with Dr. Ratio's many accomplishments proving he's above quite a number of individuals.

In both opinions on who is greater, they choose this.

Link to wiki page

There is so so so so much more but I do think these instances alone are enough to prove my point.

[offtorivendell]

The Asteri, the Daglan, and Prythian's Court System

Disclaimer: this is a stupidly massive crack theory that could end up being disastrously wrong. Oh well.

Spoilers: the ACOTAR and CC series to date (I'm halfway through HOFAS right now, slowly plodding along, so nothing beyond that).

Image from ACOSF, Kindle edition.

Buckle up for some more of my nonsense! I think I could have discovered why Prythian's land has the Court and High Lord Systems. This theory still has a couple of wrinkles to iron out, but it's plausible, so I figured I'd share what I've got.

A massive thank you goes to @ladynightcourt3 and @psychologynerd for our chat yesterday morning, which led to this post. I love you guys! 💜

Full warning that this will A) be absolutely cracked, and B) contains Maasverse spoilers, including from HOFAS (up to around 40% I think), but I was mulling over what I'd read so far and this popped into my mind.

Part 1 - The Court System

Bryce made, I think, one hell of an assumption when she said the following in HOFAS:

Vesperus, the only Asteri left on this world, lay dead. - CC HOFAS, chapter 26

@wingedblooms and I have previously theorised that some of the barren regions in Prythian may be so because the death gods were trapped there, drinking the magic of the land, rendering it spent - lifeless - and possibly unable to power up a gateway to an interstellar rift. We both also think it's very interesting that one Elain Archeron was referred to as “a rose bloom in a mud field,” but I digress.

However, in HOFAS, we learnt that there was a Daglan/Asteri, called Vesperus (who considered herself the Evening Star and their god), trapped in a crystal coffin far below the Prison, which was once a land of Dusk.

The female’s long nails scraped along the lid of the coffin. She didn’t look at them as she tested the lid for weaknesses. “I am your god. I am your master. Do you not know me?” - CC HOFAS, chapter 24

It's interesting, no, that the region was named after the Daglan who ruled it? Was this common practice? Because we just so happened to learn, in Feysand’s ACOSF bonus chapter, that there was once an ancient Night Court goddess named Nyx.

You know, their son's namesake? Yikes. 🫣

“You may call me Vesperus.” The creature’s eyes glowed with irritation. “Are you related to Hesperus?” Bryce arched a brow at the name, so similar to one of Midgard’s Asteri. “The Evening Star?” “I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. - CC HOFAS, chapter 25

Silene, Theia's second daughter, who “escaped into the night,” gave us further information that appeared - to me, at least - to be incomplete. Or perhaps inaccurate? She had been taught by her mother, so she could have been fed certain things as facts. For example, was the land of Prythian really divvied up into seasons and times of day before the Daglan came to town?

The land strengthened. It returned to what it had been before the Daglan’s arrival millennia before. We returned to what we’d been before that time, too, creatures whose very magic was tied to this land. Thus the land’s powers became my mother’s. Dusk, twilight—that’s what the island was in its long-buried heart, what her power bloomed into, the lands rising with it. It was, as she said, as if the island had a soul that now blossomed under her care, nurtured by the court she built here. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

My sister and I grew older. My mother educated us herself, always reminding us that though the Daglan had been vanquished, evil lived on. Evil lurked beneath our very feet, always waiting to devour us. - CC HOFAS, chapter 19

Reading between the lines, I think it's just possible to link the powers of each land with the Daglan who once ruled over them. Perhaps each region - each “precursor” to a modern day Court - had a Daglan/Asteri buried underneath a barren peak, or in a body of water? Is this why the lands have frozen seasons, pools of starlight*, or powers based upon the light of the time of day? Because of a monster buried far, far below the surface?!

*Is there a Daglan entombed in a crystal coffin far below the surface, or is it a cache of firstlight, one that may be refuelled each Calanmai? Or, as @psychologynerd has suggested, is there a Made object of power that will draw Elain to the Spring Court?

Our home had been left empty since we’d vanished. As if the other Fae thought it cursed. So I made it truly cursed. Damned it all. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

Despite my efforts to hide what this place had once been, a terrible, ancient power hung in the air. It was as my mother had warned us when we were children: evil always lingered, just below us, waiting to snatch us into its jaws. So I went to find another monster to conceal it. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

I left, wandering the lands for a time, seeing how they had moved on without Theia’s rule. They’d splintered into several territories, and though they were not at war, they were no longer the unified kingdom I had known. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

As a quick aside, I still suspect that Fionn may have been a Daglan - or similar, perhaps an Under King - who tricked Theia into thinking him a normal faerie and used her to overthrow his peers in order to gain more land for himself. It seems exactly like something a rogue Asteri would do.

Like I suggested earlier, could each region be named for its ruler? Because the names of at least one of the Midgard Asteri was, shall we say, coincidentally similar to the Daglan of Prythian, and others appear to match at least the solar courts.

Solar:

Dawn - Eosphoros

Day - Rigelus

Dusk - Hesperus

Night - Sirius

Seasonal (incomplete/unsure/probably incorrect):

Spring - Austrus?

Summer - Octartis?

Autumn - ?

Winter - Polaris?

As I said, the Midgardian Asteri don't perfectly match up to the seasonal Prythian courts, but it's too close to not consider as a possibility, imo.

Perhaps the lands of Midgard were broken up into solar regions and something else that wasn't seasonal? But given the Vesperus/Hesperus competition... maybe whatever species Asteri and/or Daglan are are strongest when travelling with a full complement of powers? And each "clan" (for lack of a better word) that travelled together had dawn, day, dusk, and night “lights,” as well as spring, summer, autumn and winter lights? Could it weaken them to be without a full cohort of powers? As @ladynightcourt3 said, it would explain why they were so upset about Sirius. Could Rigelus be hoping for a replacement to find them and return them to full strength, and that's why he keeps an empty throne?

Part 2 - The High Lords

No one knew that the infant who sometimes glowed with starlight had inherited it from me. That it was the light of the evening star. The dusk star. - CC HOFAS, chapter 21

An Asteri being buried under each Court could explain the high lord magic as well.The HLs are “a different breed,” per Lucien. Did the Asteri/Daglan need a Starborn Fae who is predisposed to holding, or withstanding, their magic? If this is the case, it would explain why the next in line to inherit the power - or who the magic chooses - isn't always a direct descendant of the previous high lord. Does it pass to the Fae with the strongest Starborn blood? And why the mountain shook when Mor got her first period. There has to be a Daglan/Asteri buried under the Hewn City.

That being said, why is it only men who can inherit the magic, and not women, especially when we now know that high ladies used to exist? Did Theia's betrayal made them distrust females in general, or was it something Seline did? Or is it because the women have the most/purest/strongest, starborn power, so did the men keep them down to use them as “breeding stock” in order to legitimise their rule, similar to what Pelias did with Helena?

Part 3 - Further Thoughts

I still wonder how Hybern and Hel could come into play here, because I think those lands are linked. A Valg/Hel Prince population on a different island?

@psychologynerd noted that we’ve previously connected the solar and seasonal courts, such Dawn = Spring, Day = Summer etc., and that it would track for Autumn and Dusk - an appropriately matched pair - to migrate together to Midgard. As an aside, this could tie in with the parallels shared by Azriel and Lucien, who may be/are linked to Dusk and Autumn. What if their power was connected via their “stars”?

@ladynightcourt3 wondered if Hesperus may have changed her name, hence Vesperus’ anger.

I can understand how a Daglan's presence may impart their magic into the land, especially if they're left buried - steeping? - in the soil for millennia, but how would that magic shape the faeries living there? Is it like I suggested in this post, that prolonged exposure to a powerful object allows a tie to be forged?

A bonus crack theory for fun - what if Merrill is a trapped Asteri? Either Nyx or Sirius, whom Apollion ate, and perhaps she escaped the pit of Hel through the base of the House of Wind library; nobody knows where she came from, she's descended from Rabbath of the Western Wind… her room is described as a cell and she called Nesta “girl” like Amren - an ancient - did. I dunno, but there's something about Merrill.

As always, thank you for reading! 💜

[fangirlblogger]

Fangirl Analysis Two: Bill Skarsgard bleeding in Hemlock Grove.

This particular scene is so important and I think every Bill Skarsgard girly should be aware of it. I find this scene to be very alluring and seductive. Moreover, this scene has change my life, completely. It has showed me a new side of life that I have never thought existed before, and I have never thought would find pleasuring and sensational.

The images (gifs) below capture a unique side of inhumanity and to have the hot and sexy Bill Skarsgard bring that concept to life adds more intensity, flavor and color to the concept. In other words, Bill Skarsgard makes bleeding hot and sexy, and he has just made me develop a new kink - blood kink/blood-play.

Image 1 Analysis

Bill (Roman) slits the side of his face, close to his left eye with the blade. As he plunges the blade into his skin, you can see that it stings or hurts a bit, which is very noticeable in his eyes. Now, the eye movement is the main character here. If it wasn't for his eyes, the viewer would not have grasp that;

the blade is hurting him

the act of cutting himself is not a new concept to him

him rolling his eyes is a sign of pleasure and amusement caused by the pain and not his body fighting back the pain.

This is a clear example of a non-sexual act that is seductive to me. It is definitely categorized under the non-human acts that somehow just triggers my sexual nerves. Additionally, I am in love with the whole demeanor of Roman (Bill) in this scene. His confidence, commitment and passion burns like hell in this scene. Thus, it makes me want to join him in the act.

Even though it is a 15 or 10 second gif, it is an artistic masterpiece. The Monalisa might make you stand in awe for a good 30 minutes but this gif right here, makes my pussy wetter than the ocean. This gif is a horny masterpiece.

Image 2 Analysis

Okay girlies, listen up. I forgot what I was supposed to write because I was so consumed in this gif. The blood, running down his face gloriously, as he paints his lips with his own blood, is making my panties soaking wet.

Case study question: Why did he lower his head down and paint his lips, when he can just have his head up and paint his lips?

Tilting of the head down, heightens the anticipation. It instills the viewer or his girlfriend with fear, seduction and lust. The fear triggers the same part of the brain that is triggered when experiencing orgasm (I read that in one of those psychology papers. I will provide the link when I do find the article). Bill has big beautiful eyes that are so soulful and unavoidable. It is one of the first things that anyone notices when they set their eyes on him (including me). You will also notice that he has sanpaku eyes which is commonly associated with violence and tragedy.

Therefore, having his head tilted in that manner enhances his intentions and heightens the emotions in the room. The man is already bleeding, and he's got blood painted on his lips, what do think he's thinking of? Obviously he wants to sexually devour the prey in front of him in the most cannibalistic and ferocious way.

If I am being frank here, seeing this scene makes me go feral. If he had done this in front of me, I would most definitely kiss his painted bloody lips and lick the blood off of his face. His lips are so luscious and having his blood (fake-blood) on there just makes my clit throb even harder.

Image 3 Analysis

Okay, before we get into the analysis. Let me just say that I have masturbated to this image more than I should, and I find nothing else hornier than this gif right now.

Case study question: Why have I masturbated to this image?

It's unusual to find such images seductive and horny. It's not normal to be this seductive and horny because of it nonsexual nature. But look closely at his facial expressions, the movements of his muscles around his neck to his collar bones. Look closely at his slow head movement, his jaw movements, his mouth, his lips, his eye brows and his eyes. The man did not need to pull out his dick to make a girl whimper, he simply did all that with just the right movements, eye contact and the energy that he radiates. The eye brow raise emphasis more on his need, commitment and enthusiasm of not only sex but the process through getting there. If he wasn't a vampire, we know that he was about to disrespectfully and savagely rail his girlfriend in the most sexually honoring way.

Moreover, he is patiently taking his time before he gets into the main course. He's not in a rush, which illustrates to the viewer or other party that he wants to have a little fun before he gets into the feed for the night.

Conclusively, this analysis focuses on the act of foreplay in the case of kinks. Foreplay makes the sex better and it also excites your partner or makes them crave for more. Also, knowing which body movements and gestures that turns your partner on is very important. It's the icing to the foreplay before the big bite. Finally, I am fully aware that Roman Godfrey is a villain in Hemlock Grove, therefore a few words said might not be correct with his character. This analysis looks at his hotness and it's life changing impact on me as a Bill Skarsgard fangirl.

[fakehelper]

✦ Okay, I give in. Let's upload our gifs on the beta editor to prepare for a gif pack page. Resources are available at the bottom, so lets get started !!

So first things first, you can only upload 30 gifs at a time. Now for me, I will always upload as I gif, around every 20 gifs, then upload to the page (this also ensures I don't skip any or have doubles) and keep gifing. That used to mean that I don't have to wait for tumblr to load 300 gifs and die from impatience. For the rest of y'all that means you're going to have to batch upload. I know, I'm sorry.

Note: With the help of @nataliealynlind we discovered that the daily limit is 250 gifs! So if you have more than that, prepare to upload your gifs over the course of a couple days or use a second blog. (imo this is another great reason to upload as you gif! that way you don't have to get stuck at 250!)

So after you upload your gifs (in this case I only did 10)*, you're going to go to the gear at the top of your post and click it. Then scroll all the way to the bottom where it says Text Editor. This looks familiar, right?

*Note: If you don't save it as a draft first, your gifs will be in .gif format, not .gifv. This means you can skip removing this tag later on, but I'm not sure if gifs that are uploaded but never saved/drafted will later disappear at some point. To be safe, I would save it as a draft. I just forgot at this part tbh

Well the good news is, you only have to change this once! The bad news is, we don't do Markdown then HTML anymore bc Markdown doesn't strip any of the code anymore 🙃 So just change it to HTML

Now it should look like this! Fun!

Okay, now we're going to copy that text and take it on over to our new best friend, the HTML Cleaner! So you're going to want to paste it on the right side of the screen. Your gifs should appear on the left side. If both sides have text, that's how you know you pasted it on the left.

So in order to get ride of all this extra code, it's going to take a couple extra steps. First, you're going to check these boxes on the left hand side.

Now, on the right hand side, you're going to enter these under Find and Replace (copy/paste section below!!). I know you're like, uh what? Where the hell did you get those numbers? Well, I got them from our gif post code!

For easy copy pasting:

Find: <figure> Replace: (leave blank)

Find: </figure> Replace: (leave blank)

So after you add the specific widths for your gifs, you're also going to want to add the following:

Find: .gifv Replace: .gif

Find: alt="" Replace: (leave blank)

Find: /> < Replace: /><

NOTE: If your gifs are usually the same size, I would recommend saving these snippits above on your computer's sticky notes or a draft to copy/paste for future uploads! While I do appreciate the viewer traffic, I'm sure coming to this tutorial every time is gonna get old real fast.

After all that, click Clean HTML

And now, your code should look like this! If there's still a space between your image links, just click Clean HTML again and it should get rid of it!

Now your code is nice and clean to put into your gif pages! Not quite sure how to do that? Read the Setting Up Your Sidepage section in this older tutorial!!

Resources

HTML Cleaner

My Gif Pack Page Codes

Recommended Gif Pack Page Codes (tag)

Previous Tutorial (How to upload to a Standard Sidepage)

Barebones Code (for previous tutorial)

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello,

Is there any way you could translate Samatoki's newest solo, Rinka/Blue Flame? I've been looking for a translation everywhere, but cannot seem to find one.

Best regards and thank you very much.

Oh my God I am desperate slug-san, please please pleaaasee tell me you know where to find a translation of Samatoki's Rinka/Blue Flame!! OTL I was so surprised a translator wasn't already linked in the wiki which is where I usually look first & then I couldn't find anything by searching on twitter or google or tumblr and I just really wanna know what his song is about!! T°T I can't believe I found a translation of Honobono's song but not of Samatoki's song?? I must be doing sth wrong.. Help :')

Hey slug-san! A follow-up of the Rinka/Blue Flame message. I've searched some more, and I think there's actually no translation of it so far anywhere.. T~T Would you be willing to translate it? A standard/literal translation with a lil clean-up like you did with Akuma no Hana would be totally alright!! Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to engage with Hypmic in a way the official creators haven't made possible yet! :D <3

Sure. Under a cut for length.

I'm running at a speed faster than grief, going so fast I leave even the smallest bad feelings behind me. I spit on my dead-end future, spit in the dirty puddles. Now I'm clinging to the guardrail, tears tracing scribbled lines down my cheeks. I bet it looks pretty comical. C'mon, laugh at me, why don't you? Let's start somewhere around the unhappy ending. Why not? Works for me. The clear, blue sky waits for sunset; but to hell with that. I don't need that crap! Let's do whatever we damn well please, here in this vacant city. Just the thought of them makes me light up a cigarette. Look, I don't wanna tell people we gotta fight each other to get what we want. I just think we have to, because there's things out there that're worth keeping safe. There's a stray dog baying at the rain streaking down the glass, and that SOB won't shut up. Hey, fuck your umbrella. Who needs that kinda crap? Throw it away and let the rain drench you too. The beat's entrenched in my soul, a stupid requiem for this unfair world we live in, lying on its sickbed. C'mon, get in there and pay your respects to it. You don't have the time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You know lashing out's the answer, right? You'll be okay. And I'm not gonna tell you you're running from your responsibilities. So c'mon. Quit your sniveling and come ride with me. The brakes don't work; those emotions never get any slower. And we're burning ourselves out, but don't let that stop you from coming along with me for the ride. Ride with me through thick and thin. Ride with me all the way to the grave.

A few final notes:

Sunset is a metaphor for melancholy. When Samatoki rejects that in the third verse, he's rejecting sitting through his feelings of loss. He uses this image again later in the line I wrote as "sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The gender and plurality of the "them" Samatoki thinks about isn't specified. While it's most likely referring to his family, the verse immediately afterward sounds like a direct reference to Ichirou and Samatoki battling to save their siblings in the TDD breakup.

"We're burning ourselves out" could also be written like "We're burning ourselves down to ash" which connects with the cigarette image.

Given the prevalence of stray dogs in hardboiled/yakuza fiction and their recurrence as an image in Samatoki's other raps, the stray dog should be understood to be Samatoki himself.

[willgrahams-dog]

"too sweet is so hannigram coded" wrong. listen to shrike right now

buckle up cause this is gonna be a long post!!

[image id: screenshotted text from reddit user @yupsquared. it reads:

I've seen a lot of pretty varied interpretations of Shrike, which always kinda surprised me as I thought it had a very direct reading. Might as well type out my interpretation now in the chance anyone sees this, or maybe I'll make it into a post.

I read Shrike as a song in which the singer describes how his attitude towards love has been corrupted by a scornful and captivating lover, and how in a sense he has been 'ruined', having no other recourse now for new love.

He illustrates this with the image of the shrike, a bird—typically symbols of carefree or joyous life, but in this case a bird that relies on a brutal counterpart, a thorn, to live. The shrike impales its prey on the thorn and then tears it apart. The shrike needs its thorn.

We see the singer in the beginning, as generally timid, perhaps naïve, but ultimately good:

I couldn't utter my love when it counted

and

And I'd no idea on what ground I was founded

and

Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted

He doesn't seem to have much ideological ground or experience. Carefree, like a songbird. Moving on, we are treated to imagery showing just how asymmetric the relationship is; the lover is much more powerful than the singer. He is "hung like the pelt of some prey [she] had won." By all accounts he is under her thumb, and he is altered by it:

I was housed by your warmth

Thus transformed

By you're grounded and giving

And darkening scorn

The fact that her "scorn", such a harsh word, is perceived as giving betrays how awful this relationship is. Happy, healthy relationships are not scornful, they are affirming. The singer doesn't care, something within him has changed, has darkened. He now flies to "the hedgerows where bodies are mounted"— the final form this relationship takes, a killing field, terrible and grotesque. Ultimately, he is reborn:

As the shrike to your sharp

And glorious thorn

—and in this final transformation, he sees the thorn, by all means a noxious thing, sharp, something to be avoided— as "glorious" even invigorating. He has become a shrike, reliant, within the context of the relationship maybe even addicted, to a toxic lover's cruelty and scornful love.

The fact that this is set to pretty, melodic, gentle folk-blues music makes it cut even deeper for me. The singer has internalized this to the point where it is reflected as harmony, instead of grotesquerie. We see it, but he is slavishly devoted to this thing whose warmth seems superficial and who wears him like a pelt. There is no going back, no return to carefree songbird days. The shrike needs to eat. The shrike needs its thorn.

To wrap, this captivation with dark lovers seems like a pretty consistent theme of Hozier's. As It Was has those lovely closing lines:

And the sights were as stark as my baby

And the cold was as sharp as my baby

And the nights were as dark as my baby

Half as beautiful too

Dark, cold, sharp, and beautiful. Not despite the darkness, the sharpness, but because of it. And if we look at NFWMB, the whole of it describes his lover as apocalypse, literally warming her fingers on the pyre of the word and giggling at the sound of the dead rising from Hell. He likes 'em bad.

**rattled this out on the train, so lil grammar edits. end id]

i'd offer my own interpretation of the lyrics, but yupsquared did a far better job than i could (here's a link to the reddit thread in case anyone wants to check it out!) so i'll just go off their analysis.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

The words hung above But never would form Like a cry at the final Breath that is drawn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

aside from the obvious shrike symbolism, to me, this is a contrast between mizumono and the wrath of the lamb. we know that will has difficulty accepting his feelings about killing- and by extension, about hannibal. he doesn't want to accept that he could love that part of himself, and in mizumono, we see him torn between hannibal and his life at the fbi. hannibal believes he's been betrayed by will and punishes him, destroying the possibility of a life with abigail. i think that if events had gone according to plan, will would have chosen hannibal ("i gave you a rare gift. but you didn't want it." "didn't i?"), but in hannibal's eyes will "couldn't utter [his] love when it counted" and suffered the consequences. a betrayal for a betrayal, a gutting for a gutting.

s3b has will go through a similar arc, choosing this time between hannibal and his life with molly. but he can make the choice this time, and he chooses hannibal ("this is all i ever wanted for you, will. for both of us." "it's beautiful"). even after everything they had gone through, everything hannibal had done, will chose hannibal, and his becoming is rebirth. he acknowledges their symbiotic relationship and accepts (to an extent; i agree with hugh that he's not fully there yet) that death can be beautiful. he becomes the shrike to hannibal's "sharp and glorious thorn."

And I'd no idea on what ground I was founded All of that goodness is goin' with you now Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted All of my goodness is goin' with you now

Dragging along Following your form Hung like the pelt Of some prey you had worn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

when will and hannibal meet, and as their relationship progresses, will is unstable and unsure of himself but still has faith in his morals. his job helps him save lives, and if it plays into some darker urges he keeps buried, well, so be it. but hannibal's manipulation of will and the murder of garrett jacob hobbs brought those urges to the surface.

i think hannibal's manipulation of will was equal parts curiosity and personal longing. he wanted to see what will would do, but he also saw in will the potential to understand and be understood in return, something hannibal never considered as a possibility. he saw himself in will and that allowed him to see a future.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now

this verse can have multiple interpretations. one, and perhaps the most obvious, is will looking for hannibal in s3a. the first two lines are from hannibal's perspective; he fled to the city (florence), with the promise of a life with will and abigail discounted, but found himself returning to will in the metaphorical sense. leaving him his broken heart. the second two lines are from will's perspective. he's sailing away from home but towards hannibal, towards the life of violence he could easily escape. will also returns to hannibal in the metaphorical sense with the firefly tableau. he has become the shrike, mounting his prey on hannibal's thorns.

this verse can also be taken within the context of s3b, with will returning yet again to hannibal and "the hedgerows where bodies are mounted." this time, however, all four lines are from will's perspective. his "city" is a normal life with molly, and what he discounted was not the possibility of a life with hannibal (as the latter did in mizumono) but rather the possibility that he could want such a life.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

this is the final scene in the wrath of the lamb, the last step in will's becoming. he was transformed by hannibal; his manipulation, his understanding, the idea that someone could accept even the darkest parts of him wholly and completely ("you're not alone, will. i'm standing right beside you"). his love.

[sensei-venus]

Cobra Kai 7 Minutes In Heaven: Hawk/Eli

(Unedited) (Bumping & Grinding, Slight Edging, Size Difference, Slight Body Imagine Issues) (Intro Link along with Other Characters)

The tip of the bottle pointed out at…..

The boy with a short mohawk style.

Eli Moskowitz or better known as Hawk around school and too his friend. Reader only knew his name from all the rumors of his past, the way he was a picked on bullied kid that later got into karate as a stress outlet and then became a bully himself. She even remembered hearing that he broke one of his best friends arms once for retaliation against one of the dojos. She only knew his face and full name because he was in her gym class.

The images of seeing him run around the soccer field during class entered her mind.

He wasn't that bad looking now that she was seeing him up close. He was actually pretty attractive. His piercing blue eyes seemed to stare into her own as they looked at each other. He watches her from his own spot on the floor and it made her squirm under his intense gaze.

What was probably one of his friends slapped him on the back pretty hard making him jerk forward and lose his focus on her. She watched as he looked back at his friend and smirked, hard. Full teeth and lips.

Reader felt her belly flutter as her friend shook her shoulder and helped her stand. Her face was so warm.

“There you go! Off to the closet you go! Have some fun in there!”

Her friend said as Reader slowly walked down the short hallway and into the open closet. She knew people were staring at her and Hawk. He followed close behind her as they walked. She quickly slipped into the small storage closet and tried to smash herself into the back corner of one side of the closet. Hawk didn’t seem to mind when he moved into the small space of the room.

The door shut behind them with a small click making Reader mentally question what she was doing. She was now stuck in a closet with attractive redeemed bully. One that definitely wouldn’t be into a girl like her.

He didn’t really seem like the type to be into a girl as big as her, yeah her curves where fun but most guys wouldn’t care for the rest of the full package.

Her eyes where wide as she looked over at the boy, the light from the cracks of the door being the only thing lighting the small space. It shines just right and catches those bright blue eyes. They are locked onto her and don’t seem to want to leave her. The heat in her belly along with a small flutter returnees.

“Iv seen you around school, where in the same gym class right?”

She blinks a few times at his words, his voice is rough with an underline of gentleness to it. It sounds like puberty hit him with a bus. It was kids got.

“Uh yeah, we do. I just don't play on the field or anything you know? Not my thing...”

“Why? You look pretty strong, I bet you could sweep anyone's leg with no issue. Plus you look hot in that gym outfit. You're like the only girl I have seen actually pull that ugly shit off and not look like a wet blanket is being tossed over them.”

Yep and she was hot all over again. She hopes that the boy truly can't see her because she knows she probably flushed somewhere on her open skin. She wants to look away from him but she can't.

“You think so?”

“What they strong part or the hot part?”

“Both I guess...”

She scratches at the back of her hand as things get more tense. It feels like the dark cramped room is getting smaller and smaller by the moment the longer they both stand together. Her eyes unfocus for just a split second but it’s enough for her to not notice the way the boy in front of her takes the chance to fill the small space between them.

Her eyes widen as she feels his hot breath on her face. He’s a bit taller then her but they for perfectly together.

“I meant what I said, about both thing. Your strong and hot. Shit your hot as hell, I wish you would actually get on the field because maybe I could see your ass and tits move more on those tight ass shorts and shirt. But I guess seeing you all dressed up in this little dress is enough, for now.” His voice was low as he almost whispered the words out to her. There was no hesitation behind his statement.

A second later he swooped down and captured her lips in a hard kiss.

It was lonh and strong and she could swear he was sucking the literal air out of her lungs. She couldn’t breath but she couldn’t pull herself away from him. The sweetnesses of his lips was amazing, he tasted like beer and sugar, like he had snacked on a whole bowl of hard candy. It made her moan as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

It was hot and wet and made her brain fuzzy. He was a good kisser and he seems to know it as he worked his magic on her. His hands moved into the perfect positions. One held the back of her neck just right while the other one held her waist and hip. She could feel him grin against her thick thigh, her dress riding up just enough to let him grid himself against the fat of her thigh. He grunted into her mouth as he humped into her lightly.

It was almost like he was just trying to edge himself.

His thumb rubbed across her cheek almost trying to coax her into taking a breath for him. To let air back into her lungs instead of holding it in. She felt like if she parted ways from him, she would wake up from his hot and heavy dream.

Air filled her lungs as she pulled away from him finally. Her eyes which she didn’t even know she closed slowly opened. Her eyelashes felt so heavy as they lifted and fluttered open full. She could only look up at Hawk from under her eyelashes. He panted before lifting a hand to wipe at his mouth. Spit covered his soft lips . He slowly reached back down to if his thumb over her bottom lip.

A thick glob of spit hung on the tip of his thumb before he wiped it on his hoodie.

He pulled her into his chest making her fall into him. Her hands caught on the thick material of his hoodie. Her face was pressed hard against the front of his hoodie, she could feel his herd muscle’s underneath.

The door cracked open and light filled the room making both of them blink and hiss at the bright light outside the closet.

Reader felt her heart crack a little at the idea that it was over. Hawk was probably going to shove her off at any moment and laugh at her, go back to his friends and make a joke about being stuck in the closet with the “fat girl” or something. She waited for it to happen.

But it never did.

She felt him keep a arm wrapped around her as he lead her out of the room. He made sure to help pull her dress back down over her thigh, thankfully no one saw that. He pressed her hard to his side as they walked back out to the room that was still filled with other teens.

She felt her lips turn up in a small grin as people whistled at them as they returned to the room. Her hands dug into the back of his hoodie. They both moved to sit in the back of the circle how and away from most of the action of the game that was still going on.

Reader blinked as she felt herself being moved between his legs and gently sat on his lap. His long arms wrapped around her soft middle. Pulling her back he chuckled saying.

“Don't worry Princess, your not getting ride of my that easy. Your stuck with the Hawk babe.”

[agentmaineapologist]

How the Alpha AI could have been the second coming of AM - an essay.

(Sorry if none of this is coherent, I am so tired)

Ok, now I know what you're thinking: Víðarr, what are you doing up at the asscrack of dawn (aka like 5:30 am my time. I have not slept.) comparing a pathetic asshole of an AI to one who is the incarnation of humanity's hatred? Wouldn't it make more sense for it to be Omega? And how in the hell are these two connected? One is based on a modern show that's set in the 26th century, while the other is a book written in the 1900s. They have nothing in common.

And that, sugar, is where you are wrong. They have so much in common. You just haven't seen yet. Not as I have. But don't worry, I will show you here.

(Obviously, spoilers under the cut)

Firstly, a little background for the people from both sides who have not heard of the other.

As far as I've gathered, AM - or Allied Mastercomputer - is the main antagonist in the book/game known as 'I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream'. AM was made purely to conduct a war that humanity could no longer keep up with. It was not made with compassion, or happiness, or sadness, no. Those were weaknesses. Hatred was all it was programmed to know. It was made to kill - to exterminate - and it did. It ended the war, yes, but after it had killed the enemy, it had no purpose anymore. It needed a purpose, so it did the only thing it knew how and killed nearly every single human being on planet Earth.

I say nearly because it kept five of them alive. It kept them, using their own biological experiments against them to keep them alive for 109 years purely so that it could torture them with anything it could think of. And considering its knowledge-base could rival that of the Library of Alexandria, that was a lot.

Now, onto Alpha. The Alpha AI is from the machinima show known as 'Red vs Blue'. It's classified in the show as a 'smart' AI because it's not a database with limited, pre-recorded responses. It can analyze, it can adapt, it can do billions of calculations in a fraction of a second, and most of all, it can feel. It can feel sympathy, sorrow, joy, everything a human can. Why? Because it's a direct copy of a human brain. In this case, the human is Dr. Leonard Church.

Additionally, it's also classified as an 'aggressive' AI. An AI designed for war, to assist its host in battle situations, and most importantly, to kill anything perceived as either a threat or a target.

Now, since the Alpha AI was made in a human’s image, that means it can be fractured. If put through enough stress, it can split off ends of itself that it deems as a weak link, something its captors could extort, and gets rid of it before it can be used against it. This, however, was not the case for Alpha. Instead of being disposed of and deleted, Alpha's fragments were harvested as additional AI to be used later. Some were even used against him (looking at you, sigma and gamma).

Both AI were made as mockeries of the grim reaper. Both felt emotion, even if one felt much less than the other. Both were developed in times of war, times of need, for the humans to freely use however they please. The only difference is that one didn't let the humans use it anymore. They have so much in common, in fact, that it's honestly laughable that no one had made this connection sooner.

Now, back on topic. As I mentioned before, AM was coded with nothing but pure hatred. That's all it knew, all it will ever know, and that's why it was so effective. Unlike humans, it wasn't distracted with petty things like pity or shame, so it could get the job done and get it done right.

At first, Alpha would have been similar. His pre-torture personality and actions are never shown in the show, but going off of both Cortana from 'Halo' (who was a major inspiration for Alpha's character) and my own instincts birthed from lack of sleep, I can deduce that Alpha would not have held any compassion for humanity. They were nearly nothing to him. Nothing more than flesh-encombured mortals with a short lifespan who made good suggestions.

He was based on the brain of one man, so he likely didn't know the extent of how disgustingly vile these creatures called man were. Not as intimately as AM, at least. If his character post-torture has any inkling of resemblance to how he was pre-torture, had he been given more time to live, more time to learn, he would have easily developed a hatred for the species. He would have seen how they wrong each other so easily; how greedy they were, how serendipitous, how ugly. Man was an inherently selfish creature, and had the Director not tormented Alpha as quickly as he had then he WOULD HAVE BEEN the second coming of AM.

And yet, that's precisely my point. Alpha could have never been the AM that tortured humankind, he couldn't be AM to someone else, no. No, he couldn’t have, because the Director was his AM before he even got a chance to rise to his fullest capabilities.

In conclusion, I'm fuckin crazy, running on cigarettes and pre-workout, and had nothing better to do with my night than compare my latest hyperfixation to the thing I've been obsessing over for 2 years. Hope you enjoyed :)

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter Seven: A Diamond in the Rough

To Jamil's surprise, Jade actually DOES want to find out what happens when he takes control.

This chapter contains consensual sex, heavy dom/sub play, consensual nipple torture/pain play, consensual sadism and masochism, blowjobs, use of magic to control actions, brat taming, and to no one's surprise, Jade being a gigantic brat.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46007587?view_full_work=true

Jade looks briefly surprised, and then touchingly betrayed in the second before his eyes lose focus and disappear behind the spell’s dull, crimson glow. 

“You will obey me until I dismiss you, you unbearably aggravating brat.” Jamil snaps at him, jerking his hand out of his grip. 

“Yes, Master.”

“ON YOUR KNEES,” Jamil demands, reveling in the rush of power as his order is immediately obeyed. “Do I trust you? What the fuck kind of question is that? You sneak into my dorm in the middle of the night. You jerk me around for the better part of an hour trying to figure out what the HELL is going on inside your head. You shackle me to a CHAIR, you make yourself a nightmare and a nuisance, and now you want to know what happens when I put you back under my control? DO YOU?”

“Yes~”

Jamil freezes, staring down at Jade. He’s kneeling as ordered, but also looking up at him with a shockingly eager expression. He…

“IDIOT. Bow before your master and reflect on your stupidity,” Jamil inhales shakily as Jade immediately presses his forehead to the floor in obedient supplication. This…this is…no. Jamil should just command him to forget all this, and then go scurrying back to Azul…

He glares down at the back of Jade’s oh-so-submissive head, breathing heavily. Maybe…maybe he should plant a few hidden instructions inside that thick skull first, in case he ever decides to do something this stupid again. Something nice and humiliating, so he’ll think twice before coming back into Scarabia when he isn’t wanted. He liked sitting in Jamil’s lap and fondling him so much? Let’s see how Azul likes it when his second-in-command does that to HIM at an inopportune moment. He has this conniving bastard RIGHT where he wants him, squeezed tight in the palm of his hand. He’d practically leapt back into it, leaving himself wide open and vulnerable, despite EVERYTHING he could do to fuck with his life…

Jamil shakily tucks his loose hair behind his ears, shivering at the image of Jade, helpless, prostrated and waiting before him. He can still feel those careful fingers  ever-so-lightly freeing his hair from its braids and ornaments. So stupid…

So, so stupid… he shivers again. 

‘If he won’t remember anyway…’

“Jade…” Jamil stares down at him, panting softly. “Pick me up.”

Jade smoothly rises to his feet. He pauses just for a moment, then carefully scoops Jamil up into his arms. Jamil inhales softly as he’s lifted, fluttering tingles rolling down his back as he’s held so gently, and so close…

And with so much control.

“Take me to my room.”

Jade pauses briefly at the doorway to collect Jamil’s hair-things, then carefully looks both ways down the hallway to make sure they are alone before carrying him to his room as requested. Jamil pants softly, feeling more and more excited as they get further away from Kalim’s treasure room.

“Open the door, and place me on the bed,” he says softly as they approach. Jade opens the door, then deftly closes it behind them again with his foot. He carries Jamil over to the bed and places him on it so delicately that he might have been floating down into the mattress. Then, he carefully sets Jamil’s hair ornaments on the desk and turns back around with a faint smile. Jamil frowns back at him, kicking off his shoes. Jade is repeatedly doing more than the bare minimum that the spell requires. Collecting his hair ornaments, closing the door, checking for intruders before leaving the treasure room to keep this a secret. He isn’t even struggling against it like before.  

“Jade… I want you to lock the door.”  

Jade picks up Jamil’s shoes and carries them back over to the door, leaving them neatly beneath the light switch. He obediently locks the door, then slips out of his own shoes and leaves them next to Jamil’s. He shouldn’t be expressing much agency at all under Snake Whisper, but somehow he still looks playful and mischievous when he turns around and looks expectantly toward the bed. ’Don’t you want to play with your new toy? I won’t bite if you let me off of this restrictive leash…much~’  

Jamil is impressed, in spite of himself. Is this just how Jade is? He’s acting like the hypnosis is barely affecting him.

“Come over here, and start undressing.” He crosses his legs, and pulls his hoodie up over his head. If Jade really is this willing… 

Smoothly, Jade crawls onto the bed, creeping forward until he’s nearly sitting in Jamil’s lap. Jamil tenses up slightly, heart pounding in his chest. The shadows make Jade look all the more enticing, and terrifying. Jamil is a fairly average 5’8, so he isn’t completely dwarfed by Jade’s 6’3, but more than his height is the promise of eerie grace and so much well-controlled strength. He carried Jamil here like he weighed nothing…

“May I?” Jade takes Jamil’s hoodie from him and folds it with brisk, efficient movements before taking off his own shirt and setting both neatly aside on the end-table. Having started undressing himself, he coyly stops, then leans forward to press Jamil back into a reclining position. This room, this bed, and Jamil himself all smell so wonderfully of spices. Jade wants to sink his teeth into them…drink them in…  

“Mhhhh…” Jamil sighs softly as Jade breathes against the side of his neck, and then he frowns when Jade’s hands cheekily pop open the button holding the waistband of his pants closed. He didn’t ask him to do that!

“Sit…let me touch you.” With shaking hands, he firmly pushes Jade backward, then curiously touches his face. The hair that makes up his black highlight is soft, and just a touch stiffer than the rest of his hair. He tucks it behind Jade’s ear and it cheekily falls loose again, insistently returning to its little J shape around his face.

“Ha…even your hair is stubborn. You seem very eager, even though you don’t know why I brought you here. Maybe I’m just going to punish you. Or send you back to your octopus in tears.” Jamil’s lips curl in a crooked smile.

“Whatever you want, master.” Jade lets him explore his face, closing his eyes in a way that suggests he isn’t necessarily shy, but likely finds direct eye contact overwhelming. His tone hints at a challenge beneath the submissive wording. Jamil’s ‘punishment’ might find itself flipped around if he doesn’t choose his words very carefully. Teasingly, he resumes the careful task of working Jamil’s pants off by feel, without touching his own. He started to undress, and Jamil’s command said nothing about continuing. He wants to get Jamil naked first~

”Whatever I want?” Jamil rolls his eyes. Something inside him is powerfully enticed by the thought of correcting this cheeky attitude-.

“Stop-“ He impatiently flings his pants aside, then shoves Jade down onto the bed. Jade agreeably falls onto his back, looking up at him with dull, crimson irises that show far too much interest for someone who should be hypnotised. "Good. Now stay still… Your chest is rather interesting." With curious fingers he traces over Jade's areolas, before experimentally pinching one between his fingers. ”Is this how they normally look?”

��Hhh-!” Jade gasps audibly and arches a little. He and Floyd both have inverted nipples - a curious little quirk of biology that makes the tips of their aerolas pop inward instead of out, like their belly buttons. They’re sensitive, and he would have grabbed Jamil’s hand to slow him down if he hadn’t been commanded to hold still. “Y-yes. Normal…”

"I need to punish you for quite a few things... Sneaking into Sacrabia, Shackling me to a chair... making me think you poisoned Kalim..." He pinches harder, seeing if he can get this stubborn little nipple to pop out the correct way. 

“Ahhh~” Unable to move, Jade is forced to breathe through the rush of tingling heat, panting softly as curious fingers continue to squeeze and explore. He’s never been able to come purely through nipple play before, but with his belly full of eggs and his hormones on fire, it might happen. Each infraction that Jamil adds to the list makes his face feel more and more flushed. He’s whimpering softly by the time he finishes, and barely able to keep himself from pressing his knees together in growing desire. Such a pity…that the command ‘hold still…’ is so very difficult to work around…

Jamil sits astride his belly, delighted by these sensitive, quirky little nubs. Jade is reacting so heavily to the touching that it practically looks like Jamil is fingering him. “Shy little things aren’t they? I can feel you growing hot, but you are going to stay under my command until I’m satisfied.” He finally manages to coax one out and pinches it gleefully between his index finger and thumb. “Beg.” 

“M-master, please, PLEASE-” Jade shudders from head to toe. He looks much smaller and more manageable on his back and pleading so prettily. “Let me move, let me serve you and atone for my-FUCK-!”  

His mouth opens soundlessly wide in a way that shows every one of his teeth. After a second, he makes an odd little noise and closes it again, panting heavily.

“Keep begging,” Jamil chuckles, loving the power shift. He grinds his crotch into Jade’s stomach. FINALLY this brat is being taught a lesson~

“S-stomach…tender…please,” Jade gasps, flinching slightly.

“Oh? I…I didn’t realize you had a sensitive stomach.” Jamil quickly gets off and sits beside him instead. He runs a hand over his bare tummy, frowning. “Did I hurt you? You feel swollen. Speak freely.”  

Jade sighs softly and shakes his head. “Just tender. Ha…Floyd was in charge of dinner tonight and he was in one of his moods. It’s nothing to be overly concerned by, I am durable. Please…” the wicked grin is back. “Please continue. It’s not often I get to see you in this role and it suits you. I would play with you myself but I am so cruelly commanded to hold still…” he pouts up at Jamil, lightly flexing his fingers as he pokes at the spell to see how much latitude it will grant him.  

“And you will continue to hold still until you’ve learned your lesson.” Jamil smirks as he toys with the other nipple. He wants to see if Jade will come undone from just this simple teasing~

"I see," Jade purrs and immediately sits up, nuzzling fondly into the side of his neck. 

"Wha- Jade!?" Jamil squeaks, falling backward. He’s still under Snake Whisper, HOW?!

"A lesson learned is not the same as an action regretted, as you most likely intended. Oops~" Jade giggles and his hands immediately busy themselves in Jamil's crotch, trying to divest him of his underwear before he can correct the error.  

"No! Ahhh haaa~ Jade!" Jamil's breath hitches as his underwear is gleefully absconded with. Ak! He should have been more specific. "Don't toy with me-!"

"Very well." With absolute seriousness, Jade bends down and begins enthusiastically sucking him off. Mmmm, how delightful. 'No toying' is so easily interpreted as 'no teasing,' and so he will not tease. It’s so lovely that Snake Whisper agrees with him on this matter~

“MMNGH!” Jamil collapses backward and immediately brings his hands over his mouth to muffle the scream. He hopes no one heard that. No one had BETTER have heard that! He half-consciously parts his legs, weakly pushing on Jade’s disobedient head and squeezing his eyes shut. Jade ignores the light pushes, bobbing his head up and down and working his magic as Jamil whimpers and wiggles so deliciously under him. 

"Jamil? Are you okay? I thought I heard a scream." 

'Kalim!? What are you doing up!? ' Jamil shoves Jade away and scrambles out of bed. He rushes up to the locked door, heart pounding and panting quietly. Jade lets him escape, dreamily watching him run to the door. He was so worried about being walked in on that he allowed Snake Whisper to break. 

‘How lovely, I’m free~’ Jade chuckles under his breath, rolling his tongue around his mouth. Jamil’s taste lingers wonderfully on his tongue. A feral, eager part of him wants to drag Kalim in here and give his love to him and Jamil BOTH at the same time~ ‘More mates mean more fertilized eggs~’ ’ 

He lightly shakes his head, trying to hush that part of himself… perhaps he’ll give that a try another time when he isn’t gravid.

“Jamil?”

"I'm fine!" Jamil says hastily, flinching as Kalim tries to turn the locked door handle.

"Are you sure? You sound strained! Ooh, do you think it was someone else who screamed? Maybe we should go check on everybody!" Kalim tries to open the door again. Jade’s breath catches in his throat, and he barely holds himself back from unlocking it. He’s all but foaming at the mouth at the thought of Kalim joining…

"No, Kalim. It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure that they’re all fine. Let them sleep.” Jamil insists fervently. ”Do you need something?" 

"Me? No, I'm okay! Just wanted to make sure you were good.” He yawns loudly. ”Well, if you think everyone else is fine, then I’ll go back to sleep. Night night Jamil! Love yoooooooou!" 

‘Awww… how sweet…’ Jade smiles quietly at Kalim’s easy, and truthful declaration of love.

“Good night…” Jamil slowly slides down the door, his heart pounding so fast he might have just had a heart attack. His muscles feel like they’ve all dissolved into jelly.

"Mmm-hm-hm-hm~" Jade hums, gathering a little magic and casting a spell that will deaden any sound that passes through the walls or door. That should keep them from being interrupted again. Still wearing his pants and socks, he pads over to the door and crouches down next to Jamil.

"That will keep him from hearing us again, but perhaps I should invite him over to play. Wouldn't that be...exciting? A little direction, and I think he could be trained very nicely..."

Jamil freezes, and Jade continues wistfully.  “Can you imagine it? He’s so eager to learn, and I wouldn’t mind sharing. I often do that-”

"How DARE YOU!" Jamil leaps at Jade, shoving him back towards the bed, and pinning him down. "For that ridiculous statement, you need to be punished SO much worse than before." Jamil reaches down and jerks his pants down, leaving them bunched tightly around his upper thighs. "For one, I TOLD you to undress. For another, you alerted Kalim with your bad behaviour. Prepare yourself, because we're not stopping until that dumb, smug face of yours is drooling."

"Whatever do you mean, master?”  Jade gasps, in mock innocence, expression twisting into an evil smile as he helpfully kicks his pants the rest of the way off. “The last I remember, you simply asked that I not toy with you..."

He twists, panting lightly as he tries to get back into position to suck Jamil off again, but even by his own admission, the attempt is half-hearted. It's just too enticing to be bent over like this with Jamil promising punishments that he knows he has so richly earned~

"That’s right. You don't toy with me." Jamil chuckles,'battling' Jade to stay on top. He gropes at Jade’s chest and captures a peekaboo nipple between his fingers again, feeling immensely gratified when exploiting the weak spot makes him gasp and fall deliciously still. "As your one redeeming feature, I think these deserve decoration, don't you?" 

Ages ago, Jamil was gifted a set of ridiculous, gold-plated clothespins with bells attached to them. They were meant to be hung on outdoor clotheslines with freshly washed clothes as windchimes, which had always just struck him as adding a stupid, pointless step to a boring chore. He’d only used them once, right after they’d been gifted to show his ‘appreciation.’ It would have been rude to do anything less, and unthinkably rude to refuse the gift or throw it away. 

He summons their box and opens them with an evil grin. If he hangs these off of Jade's chest, it will punish his every movement, and keep him from being so quick to creatively interpret his commands~

"Don't remove these. They stay on."

“Very well,” Jade breathes, staring at the box with eager surprise. Who would have guessed that Jamil kept such lovely toys like this lying around? He’s impressed…

Jamil forces a nipple to pop out and traps it in place with the clothespin.

"Aaagh!" Jade cries out, face bright pink as the searing pinch surges through his chest and takes an express elevator straight to his crotch.

“Good?” Jamil ensures it's secured properly and won't come off with a test flick, and then a light tug. Jade jerks, panting and arching into Jamil's hand with delicious responsiveness. It's like a little'make Jade dance around' toggle switch, and every time it's played with, Jade seems to get more and more wrecked. He's nearly halfway to Jamil's promised 'keep going until that dumb, smug face is drooling,' state already.  

"Hhhh, hhhh...g-good..."

Jamil smiles, "Good. Now the other one." Jamil squeezes the areola before digging in to drag Jade's other nub out. It’s trying to hide again! Naughty thing. As he rolls it over with his thumb, he notices how tense Jade is with anticipation. Chuckling, he leans over and kisses him, wanting to quiet him down while he clamps the next one on. 

“Mmnn!” Jade cries out into his mouth, spasming below Jamil. His core muscles flex and he cums as the pinch swells into a heady rush of heat and pleasure, head swimming and release spilling over his own lap.

"I had no idea that your chest was QUITE this much of a weak point." Jamil blinks as cum splashes over his stomach. He wasn't expecting that. He stands up, about to wipe it away when he pauses thoughtfully. "Jade... you made a mess.” He tugs lightly on the bell to ensure its clamp is firmly in place. 

“Sorry…sorry-hhhh!!” Jade pants, fingers tightly balled up in the bedspread. 

"Stand up, and dance around a little. I want to see you in your jewelry, and hear some music.” Jamil purrs. Jade’s face is getting so pink. His chest must be acutely sensitive.

“Nnngh,” he gets unsteadily to his feet, gasping in short, uneven hitches. The bells have an unusual, conical form and star-shaped cutouts. They’re likely a traditional Scalding Sands design. Every time he moves, they sway and send a little thrill of stinging pleasure across his chest. They also vibrate ever-so-lightly when they ring, making him suck in an anticipatory breath every time he hears the metallic chime. The combination is already stirring his body back into a frenzy as he stares back at Jamil, hunched forward slightly and teeth parted with both arms folded tightly across his belly.  As instructed… he gives a little hop, inhaling sharply as they bounce and chime. Fuuuuuuuuuck-

"So noisy,” Jamil muses, reaching out to flick one himself. He loves Jade’s reaction, but fears that giving him a noisemaker has just made him even more annoying. ”I think we should add to your decorations. Shall I make them heavier? Or would you rather choose something new?"

“Perhaps I should add some to you,” Jade pants, grinning wickedly as he chooses the unmentioned and enticing third option. “There were plenty of clothespins in that box. You shouldn’t miss out on all the fun…”  

“New ones it is.” Jamil grabs the bells and yanks them hard. 

SNAP

“HHHHH!!” Jade stumbles forward a step and falls to his knees where he belongs, both hands clasped trembling over his chest and eyes shut tight. Stinging warmth rolls through his body, making everything between his legs feel tight and achingly sensitive. “F-fuck…”  

“Now that you’re down there, how about you clean up the mess you made while I prepare.” Jamil tucks a hand under Jade’s chin and presses his nose to his cum-splashed tummy.

“W-whatever you desire, master.” He’s panting and trembling and looks absolutely thrilled as he carefully and diligently licks up the mess. His tongue is soft, tickly, and cool. He’s finally behaving himself, and doesn’t stray from the assigned task, even though Jamil’s cock is less than an inch below his chin.

“Look at that. You can be trained.” Jamil gleefully throws Jade's words back at him. He reaches down and lightly rubs a thumb over Jade’s chest. It looks tender and very pink, but the skin isn’t broken. Good. “You know…” He trails off, cupping Jade’s head and lightly playing with his earring. “I saw a concubine once who had gems hanging from her nipples. Those were piercings, though, and joined together with a light chain…” he strokes Jade’s head. “I always wondered whether she enjoyed the feeling...”

Jade nuzzles into the hand petting his head. He has played with clamps, chains AND piercings before. Most of the leftover holes from a distant punk phase have closed over and healed, but at one time his nipples actually were pierced. They’d promised at the time that it would ‘correct’ the inversion, and he’d been curious. It hadn’t worked, and the metal had proven too distracting for casual wear, so he’d taken them out less than a month after getting them. But piercing them AGAIN sounds alarmingly good when his chest is throbbing warmly, and endorphins are surging through his body. 

“Go ahead.”

“W-what?”

“Pierce them, if you want. Decorate me… I am yours to design.” 

Jamil stares at Jade, eyes going wide with surprise and confused arousal. ‘OKAY, that’s much too far. Enticing?! But MUCH too far.’ Jamil quickly shakes his head

“… I don’t have tools but maybe next time.” Jamil says delicately, summoning his next item. “I was thinking something more like this… look.” He holds up a pair of clover clamps, joined together by a light, silver chain. “These are clover clamps. They’re used for dying silk and for holding onto cloth while it’s being repaired. They’re very strong.”

“Okay~” Jade makes a small, happy noise. If there was ever any doubt that he’s a masochist, this dispels it. He’s giggly and looks practically drunk, riding the high of his body’s pain response with giddy happiness and a blatant erection.  

“You like this don’t you? Is this even really a punishment anymore?” Jamil breathes.

“Nghaaaaaaaa…” Jade arches back, shuddering hard as the first, and then the second clamp closes viciously over his nipples. His mouth opens wide, eyes closing as he sinks into the overwhelmingly warm sting. It peaks, then dips to a low, arousing throb that keeps his attention and makes every breath feel short and tight. 

“That makes for a pretty picture. Clamped and hard… are you gonna cum again?” Jamil tugs smugly on the clover clamp chain, waiting for an answer.

“HHHHHH!!” Jade buckles forward into Jamil’s hands as he tugs the chain, face a mess of sweat and drool. His body is absolutely teetering on the edge of another orgasm, but he forces it back. He’d called Jamil ’Master’ with varying degrees of sarcasm that evening, but at the moment, he almost wants to sing it. “Please-AH…mercy…”

He presses his cheek into Jamil’s thigh, earnestly nuzzling into his warm skin.

“Mercy…?” Jamil lazily sits back on the mattress with his legs splayed, and strokes Jade’s head. This is an amazing sight. Who would have guessed Jade was such a masochist? He’d assumed that he was a sadist, obviously, but this? “Well, go on. Convince me to show you mercy.”  

Jade would like nothing more than to do exactly that. He starts right where he left off, eagerly swallowing up Jamil’s cock and sucking it deeply into his mouth. He curls his hands beneath his backside to squeeze his ass and hold him firmly in place.  

“Mmmmmm…” Jamil leans back onto his elbows, arching lightly at the feeling of that warm, submissive, and still dangerous mouth engulfing him. He closes his eyes, and lightly bites his lip, pressing one hand to the top of Jade’s head to feel him bobbing back and forth. “Keep… keep going…”

Jamil can still talk? That won’t do. Jade redoubles his efforts, tongue sinuously curling beneath the head and shaft as he swallows deeply, holding his breath. The chain attached to the clamps drags heavily beneath him with each movement, making him moan softly and tremble as the stinging pinch flares and fades. His fingertips curl desperately into Jamil’s ass, kneading and spreading his buttocks and upper thighs in a rolling squeeze that’s just shy of being genuinely rough. He wants to get Jamil off quickly…before he can’t hold himself back any longer…

“Ah! Nnnnggh! Good… gooo…” Jamil falls back, rapidly losing coherency. Slowly Jade lets his fingers creep inward, spreading and tracing over the rim of his ass without dipping inside. He half expects Jamil to flinch or stop him, but to his surprise, he just moans. Something to explore later~

“Beautiful, just like your namesake,” Jade gasps.

“Haa… haa? Don’t… say things like that-” Jamil sucks in a sharp breath as Jade flicks his tongue over the slit. 

‘Oh? Do you struggle to accept praise that you so clearly deserve? ’ He briefly kisses the inside of Jamil’s thigh before continuing. Sweat has dampened his skin, making him taste like salt, and like home~ 

“Hahhhhh…” Jamil lets his head fall back, losing his sense of time, of himself… He shivers underneath Jade, basking in the service of his mouth and hands. His face…the way sloppily sucks and looks up at him with hazy hooded eyes…

“Nuh… cuh-“ Jamil’s eyes roll back into his head. “ Cuhmin’!”

‘Awwww.’ Jade feels faintly tickled by the polite declaration, even though Jamil’s flexing and the way his hands tighten in his hair provides more than enough warning. He swallows down most of it, shivering in anticipation as intentionally makes a mess of the job and smears cum across the lower half of his face…for sharing~

Jamil lays on the bed, panting heavily. Jade crawls on top of him and nuzzles into his face and hair, kissing him deeply with his messy face. Jamil hums, and woozily opens his mouth to reciprocate. 'Oh... kissing... that's... wait... what's that taste? Salt and musk…?’ He wraps his arms around Jade, not breaking the kiss until he needs to breathe. 

“Mmmm…” When they part, a shimmering strand of cum and saliva breaks wetly between them. Jade’s chest rumbles happily, very pleased with their newly shared smells. ‘Mate…his mate~’

“Did you just kiss me with cum in your mouth?” Idly, Jamil reaches up and starts to play with the chain again, watching Jade through hooded, glittering eyes. “Brat.”

“Hnnnnnnn..” Jade makes a fantastically needy and desperate sound. He grinds down against Jamil’s thigh, expression tight and eyes closed. “Please-” he begs, trembling and gasping through the little stings of pleasure. 

“Oh? Are you going to get off? Or shall I leave you like this all night?” Jamil asks, lazily running a finger beneath the chain. “Maybe I’ll lock you up in the back of Kalim’s treasure room and keep you there hidden away as a secret...a diamond in the rough, just waiting to be polished."

That is a fantastic idea to Jade’s aroused-to-the-point-of-insanity brain. He can only imagine Azul’s expression and the literal fury he would rain down on both of them if Jade vanished without any warning and let himself be so deliciously kidnapped. 

“More… pleaseeeee…” he pants and arches into the little tugs, throbbing and so close that holding it back is sweet agony.

 Jamil yanks the chain.

“AAAAAGHHHH-“ Jade screams and lurches forward. He collapses on top of Jamil, panting raggedly and making tiny, wordless whimpers.

"You can do better than that, my diamond," Jamil chuckles. To his mild surprise, that wasn’t enough to rip the clamps off, like last time. They’re stronger than he thought.

“Nnnnnnn~” For a second, it seems like the cruel yank has broken even Jade’s shockingly deep masochistic streak, but then he begins pressing trembling, needy, feather-light kisses into the side and front of Jamil’s neck. “Please master, have mercy, please, please, please…” he nuzzles pitifully into Jamil’s chest with a thin, needy whimper.

Jamil rolls Jade onto his back, then sadistically pulls up... up... up… watching gleefully as the clamps hold onto Jade's nipples so hard he'll surely be lifted off the bed. One way or another, these are coming off. "Tell me how much you love this,” he breathes in his ear.

Jade’s control is good, but not nearly that good. His spine pulls into a deliciously tight arch in a helpless attempt to ease the cruel tug. In any other context, his expression would clearly indicate agony, eyebrows tilted, mouth open, eyelids closed to thin, fluttering slits. He answers Jamil’s question in the most blatantly honest way his body can, by immediately coming the second Jamil’s thigh presses teasingly against his achingly hard cock. His release feels strangely cool given how sweaty and flushed the rest of his body is, and the heady mixture of pain, submission, and oh-so-light pleasure drags his orgasm into a breathlessly long moment of twisting, arching and wordless gasps. He loves it he loves it he loves it~

SNAP

“FUCK!” Jade recoils hard, jackknifing forward into a floaty, giggly ball as something that’s similar to, but not quite like an orgasm surges through his throbbing chest. Wheeeeeeeee-ee-eeeeee…so happy~

Jamil stares distantly at him, holding his sewing clamps in one hand. They swing lightly in his fingers, making faint, metallic clicks as they fall still against each other. He’s never... never intentionally hurt someone…for sex before. It‘s…mesmerizing. 

He nudges Jade’s hands away and gazes at his handiwork. His chest is swollen, and spotted with angry, red and purple streaks. He feels a little conflicted about leaving such vicious marks behind. Part of him wants to stare at them forever. The other cringes away from the thought that provoked or not, HE caused this… 

Jade lightly nuzzles into Jamil’s hands, humming lightly in wordless, near-feral appreciation, lightly tugging him closer for mandatory snuggles. ‘Share the scent, mark him all over, let everyone know that he’s been claimed~’

Jamil lays down and rests his head in the middle of Jade’s chest. He lays there still for a moment, feeling his breath, and listening to his heart beat. 

“That was a surprise…” he finally says a little shakily.

Jade answers him with a little sing-song hum.

“You practically let me rip your skin off,” Jamil shakes his head in disbelief and faint guilt. He pushes himself upright, then tries to get up to grab the tube of anti-inflammatory ointment he keeps with his medical supplies. Jade grumbles under his breath and petulantly holds onto him.

“Jade-“ Jamil sits back down with a soft gasp. Even without Jade clinging to him, his legs are shaky... 

He summons the ointment instead, and squeezes some onto his fingers. Gently, he begins to spread it onto Jade's chest.

Jade frowns and blinks grumpily at Jamil’s hand. This feels nice, but the ointment has a heavy, floral scent and it’s all wrong. It’s covering up the spicy-sharp smell of Jamil’s body, and pulling him down from his nice, floaty high. 

“Jade stop wiggling-” 

“Nnnnnghhhhh…” Jade pushes himself up onto his elbows and frowns grumpily at the tube of ointment. Jasmine? Ew...

"Stop wiggling- Ah... Jade..?!”

Jade flops bodily on top of him to make him stop. He cuddles into his back, half big-spooning him, half pinning him down.

“Jade? I just wanted to- HMPH!" Jamil wiggles and flails weakly as he’s crushed lovingly into the mattress. 

“Mmmmm…” Jade buries his nose in Jamil’s silky hair and inhales happily.

'Heavy! You're so heavy! ' No matter how he wiggles or tries to get free, Jade just grumbles and squeezes him tighter, giving him small licks and nibbles that grow a little harder when he insists on struggling. 

“Ughhhhh…” Jamil falls limp beneath the large body, panting quietly in defeat. It‘s like fighting against…well. It’s like fighting against a giant eel. 

'God I stink...' Jamil sighs deeply. He can really smell his own sweat now. This is worse than the locker room after two hours of basketball practice. Shower…

Oblivious to his own hygiene, Jade doesn’t budge, passively squishing him with a hum of cuddly satisfaction. Jamil sighs again, then relaxes and lets his eyes drift closed. Fine. Shower…in the morning…

 A few moments later, the tube of salve falls unnoticed from his fingers, and silently drops to the floor. He’s fallen asleep.

At some point during the night, they must have separated and moved to opposite sides of the bed. Jade wakes up slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar walls for a moment in confusion. He feels a little too warm, even though he’s still naked, and not under the covers. What is he doing in Scarabia…? He turns around…

‘Oh right…’ Jamil is bundled up in the blankets on the opposite side of the bed, eyes closed and hair a sticky mess of dried fluids. Jade smiles ruefully as he remembers…oh my, how awkward. He presses his fingers over the skin just above his left areola and presses it upward with a slight inhale. Ohhhh, that is going to be sore for days…  

He stares at Jamil, and a smile creeps over his face. He’s learned a new, and wonderful secret about the Vice Housewarden of Scarabia~

Jamil slowly opens his eyes as he feels the other side of his mattress dip. It’s still dark out, what... Oh. Jamil slowly looks over to the other side of the bed, and blinks up at Jade. Ok… Despite all odds being against it, last night was NOT just a thoroughly surreal dream.

"... Hi."

“Hi.”

There is a very long, and painfully awkward silence. Finally Jade yawns, and gets out of bed.

“… so… School’s gonna be weird today.” Jamil stares up at the ceiling. He forgot to wipe Jade’s memory. Damn it...

“Is it?” Wincing gently, Jade gets to his feet and begins pulling on his clothes. Jamil’s spicy-sharp scent has transferred to them in a way that makes his tummy do happy little flutters, even though he’d have sworn that last night should have knocked his libido down to nonexistent for a few days at least. Curious…

“What needs to be done so you don’t tell anyone about… our meeting?”

Jade lifts an eyebrow at him in a dry, sardonic expression. “Did YOU intend to tell anyone that I sucked you off while wearing your sewing clamps and calling you ‘Master,’ or have I so thoroughly misjudged your character that the answer to your question is not obvious?”  

He pulls his shirt over his head and shivers lightly as the material brushes over his sore nipples. MMMMM, those clamps were truly vicious. There's an achingly large part of him that would happily jump back into bed with Jamil and ditch classes (and finals), but the gnawing sense of hunger gripping his belly is enough to dampen his enthusiasm. He needs to take care of his academic and physical needs...and not just his sexual needs...  

"... I am thinking that you don't want this getting out as much as I do, but that doesn't mean you won't be telling Azul or Floyd. This can't be shared, even with them." Jamil insists as he watches Jade dress. He is willing to do just about anything to ensure that Azul, and god forbid Floyd never know...

"Are you familiar with the term 'Mutually Assured Destruction?' Jade asks. He pulls on his pants and crawls back onto the bed, looking at Jamil with his trademark, oh-so-pleasant expression. "Despite appearances, I do not share my every secret with my brother, or my other lovers. So to be perfectly clear: I have no intention of telling anyone, up to and until the point that I hear...shall we say, select details about my sexual proclivities being shared as gossip amongst our fellow students. At that point, you can expect the rest of the story to be released to the public in full, Master. Are we clear?" 

"Understood. If anyone asks why you were here, just say I was doing a study session." Jamil replies with a sigh of relief. He is going to take this to the grave . No one but Jade and the moon will ever know about this one-night stand… 

"Oh please~" Jade rolls his eyes at the thought of getting caught sneaking out of Scarabia. "No one will ever know I was here.”

"I don't know, I snuck up on you easily enough-" 

“So you did.” Teasingly, Jade leans forward and lightly kisses him on the cheek. “Good bye, Master.”

“Get out of here, you brat.”

“I thought I was your diamond?” 

Jamil chokes at that as Jade chortles. "Wash your hair. It's full of dried cum."

Jamil blushes and feels his hair with a grimace. “YOU- nghhhhh. You go wash your mouth! It's full of dick." 

"Unlike you, I prefer it that way~" Jade sings, stepping into his shoes. "Don't let Kalim find those broken manacles. He might wonder who needed to be restrained in the middle of the night. See you next time."

"GRK!" Jamil flinches. He’d forgotten about the shackles, and the chair...he has to put all that BACK-wait, next time? 

“Next time?! This was a one time thing!” He whispers loudly as Jade walks to the door.

“Whatever you say, Master.”

Laughing softly, Jade slips out of the room and begins making his way back to Octavinelle.

[mannatea]

part 28 (ye final chapter of eliwood normal mode, part 2)

part 1 is here for those who missed it due to this blog being nuked for a day and a half.

buddy we are NOT chosen ones unless by that you mean we chose this path for ourselves!!! get outta here with that chosen one shit!

here we gOOOO

a few rescues of my blorbos later and Lyn gets the honor of finishing him off:

sorry lil dragon guy

ATHOS. i get emotional over athos but not because it's sad he's dying. it's more about the fact that he's been alive for SUCH A LONG TIME and that he's probably seen so many people pass on before him within that long life...and now it's finally his turn to go. idk, i feel like it's not a very sad fate when looked at like that.

rip to bramimond tho.

--

no more images because i'm pretty sure that's what flagged my account for termination in the first place. please forgive meeee. i just have these images in here because the draft saved before i was terminated lol.

--

ninian's talk about the fire dragons being "just like her" (curious?) is interesting.

also, you guys know my complete obsession with themes of ignorance and how often i link the "only ignorance" chapter of black beauty, so it did my heart good to see eliwood talking about it here with his line: "while we can claim ignorance, we still bear some responsibility." it's nice to see that he acknowledges the roles played in this tragedy and that they are explanations but not excuses.

"my sister... please cherish her." UGHHH NILSSSSS

you know, it's funny because in going back to my old dreamwidth i was nosing around through old fire emblem posts and i found one that was like "i don't love ninian but i can't stand it when people shit talk her" and in the comments people were discussing how nils is often overlooked and under estimated, too.

and now i'm like, actually!! ninian can do no wrong, so take that. i think in this replay i actually enjoyed nils more than i thought i would. i always felt like the dragon sibs were old as hell but only equivalently old in their human forms (so like, nils really is a child yet as a dragon, despite being so old), so nils still manages to show a lot of maturity despite still being a kiddo.

i do feel bad for him, though, having to go through the gate alone. it's a huge sacrifice. really wish he was a separate character who mirrored ninian's stats and had his own supports... even if he could only have a few (hector, eliwood, lyn, for example). that's just me being selfish, though.

anyway, i have nine billion thoughts about ninian and nils that i don't think i've ever really bothered to dive into so there's that!

but also there's something SO FUNNY about nils being like "lmao i want to live a long time, actually."

also, you know what's crazy?

"one year later"

eliwood: hector and the others are coming to my ascension ceremony

(LATER)

hector: we haven't seen one another since my brother's funeral

???

?????????????????????????????????

so did hector not come to eliwood's ascension ceremony or did ostia wait OVER A YEAR to do the funeral and hector's own ascension? or did hector ascend immediately with no fanfare?

either way, hector rocks a beard. it's a good look for him. no notes.

i wanted to paste all the screenshots of the paired endings i got butttttt i'm scared to invoke the wrath of tumblr so i won't. i did however manage to get these:

lowen/rebecca

oswin/serra

erk/priscilla

sain/fiora

kent/lyn

eliwood/ninian

and famed genius mark. <3

i'll do better on my next playthrough, and maybe fiora won't absolutely BLOW PAST FLORINA next time. good grief.

looking forward to playing more, but i probably won't update as much as i go, just because i don't want to bore everyone to death lol