#you know this post wasn’t originally about cannibalism…

[merriclo]

A Quick Analysis of the Tanizaki Siblings

With the release of chapter 118, it’s been officially confirmed that Naomi and Jun’ichirō are not blood-related, seemingly shifting their entire dynamic. this has, of course, resulted in many different opinions and stances within the fandom, and i wanted to share my own thoughts on it.

this post will briefly go over each of their characters and their relationship with each other. later on, i will be making a video essay going even deeper into it, because,, i genuinely can’t stop thinking about this.

content warning for discussions of incest and sexual assault, harassment, and abuse. please please please don’t read if these topics are too heavy for you. take care of yourself. this is also a repost, as the original post didn’t show up in any tags. you can read the original post, alongside a great addition, here!

in order to fully understand them together, we need to establish who they are apart. so, part one of this will be an analysis on Jun’ichirō’s character, part two of Naomi’s, and part three of their relationship.

Part One — Jun’ichirō Tanizaki

(i’ve already discussed a bit of Jun’ichirō’s character in one of my earlier posts, but i wanted to take the time to further elaborate on a few points i made. i wasn’t able to fit some other points in, though, due simply to them not being very relevant, so if you’re curious, go check that one out too!!)

Jun’ichirō is an incredibly fascinating character for multiple reasons. he thinks of himself as incredibly average. I’d like to call attention to this quote in particular. a fact exemplified by this quote:

“…Tanizaki felt he was mediocre at his job, held mediocre principles, and had a mediocre sense of justice, which made him a mediocre human being. He didn’t have the courage to talk back to or stand up to Dazai. Put simply, he was incredibly passive.”

this is found in A Day at the Detective Agency on page 42, a short story detailing how the Armed Detective Agency decided what Atsushi’s entrance exam would be, told through the third person perspective of Jun’ichirō.

these words, these claims of mediocrity, are his own. he truly believes himself to be an average, unassuming member of the agency. in other parts of the story, he calls himself timid (pg 37) and an ordinary guy (pg 54), and says that his smile always lacks self-confidence (pg26.) his genuine opinion of himself is that he’s nothing special.

despite this, we see time and time again that he is a trusted and valued member of the Agency. in the Cannibalism arc, he was left to face the entirety of the Black Lizard all by himself, and prevailed. Even Hirotsu, a veteran of the Port Mafia and leader of the Black Lizard—a man who spends his days surrounded by the most skilled assassins Yokohama has to offer—said that Jun’ichirō was terrifying, and perfectly suited for assassination. this is only exemplified by the fact that he almost succeeded in killing Mori, thwarted only by Kōyō at the last second.

in A Day at the Detective Agency, it’s said that Kunikida needed the help of the best of the best, meaning Him and Naomi (pg 42.) but Jun’ichirō brushes this off, saying that Kunikida only wanted Naomi’s help, but the siblings had become a kind of package deal, and that’s why he was also recruited to help him.

this boy’s esteem is horrifically low, and he refuses to see his own worth, making every excuse there is just to call himself normal. (this is the reason why i honestly view him in A Day at the Detective Agency as a a bit of an unreliable narrator: his own self-perception leads to many false statements, all primarily centered around himself.)

however, we as the audience know that Jun’ichirō is not at all normal. the moment someone he cares for is put in harms way, a switch flips in his mind and he becomes an incredibly dangerous person who will stop at nothing to try and save them. we see this first in chapter four when Higuchi shoots Naomi.

this is also the mindset that he was in when he battled the Black Lizard and attempted to assassinate Mori in the Cannibalism arc, as well as when he faced off against John Steinbeck and H.P. Lovecraft. most recently, this is shown in chapter 117 when Jun’ichirō threatens to rip an actual God (Ame-no-gozen) limb from limb. (i’d add photos of the panels but i have a very limited amount of pictures that i can add!! sorry (′︿‵｡) )

this willingness to abandon any and all morals should his loved ones be put in harms way is a cornerstone of his entire character. So long as it preserves the lives of the members of the Agency, he will do anything. and that isn’t limited to just killing someone, either. without hesitation, he volunteered himself to be the one traded off to the Port Mafia the moment the possibility of Yosano going there was mentioned.

furthermore, in a Bungo Stray Dogs exhibition, Asagiri claimed that Jun’ichirō is the closest to “evil” out of everybody in the ADA (exhibition translation found here!!) (also, it’s so interesting that the translator put sister in quotations. there really has been hints all along!!) this excerpt discusses the scene where Jun’ichirō faced off against John Steinbeck and H.P. Lovecraft, and tricked an innocent trucker into hitting his enemy using his ability Light Snow, causing a crash that the trucker would not be able to escape from unharmed. he did all of this just to ensure the safety of Naomi.

in summary: Jun’ichirō views himself as an incredibly mediocre, insignificant person, and he will do absolutely anything if it means saving his loved ones.

Part Two — Naomi Tanizaki

(warning this analysis is not the kindest to Naomi. if you don’t wanna read that, stop now!!)

Naomi is based off of the main female lead of the irl Tanizaki’s work Naomi—a story where a man tries to turn 15 year old Naomi into a Westernized woman, but ends up getting manipulated by her instead when she changes the power dynamic between them. (there’s.. many aspects of Naomi that i believe impact BSD, but ahajjdkdka that’s for another post.)

Naomi is introduced as Jun’ichirō’s obsessed sister. she is shown to be all over him, touching him inappropriately in public and singing his praises. she’s clingy, and doesn’t leave his side once.

but, there’s a lot more to her if you look closely.

firstly, she is incredibly intelligent. In A Day at the Detective Agency, she conspired with Dazai to cheat her way into being the hostage and Jun’ichirō being the bomber during Atsushi’s entrance exam.

“Startled, [Jun’ichirō] looked over at Naomi, who gazed back at him teary-eyed.

“I just…”

[Jun’ichirō] could see the hearts pulsating in his sister’s eyes. She covered her slightly crimson cheeks with her long, delicate fingers, then said, “I just wanted…to be your hostage so you could tie me up and threaten me, my dear, sweet brother…”” (pg 51.)

then, in the main series, she nearly caught on to the significance of Haruno’s cat, Mii-chan.

keep in mind, she is not one of the detectives. she doesn’t have an ability, and she hasn’t been trailed by Natsume for years like Fukuzawa and Dazai have. despite all of this, she picked up on this weird correlation before even Haruno, his owner, did. and let’s not forget how surprised both Fukuzawa and Mori were at the reveal of Natsume being Mii-chan.

furthermore, in chapter 23, in which Steinbeck and Lovecraft hunt Haruno and Naomi down, it’s shown that she remembered exactly what Dazai told her in regards to how she should act in an emergency situation.

not only did she execute this advice near-perfectly, but she planned ahead in order to do so. in fact, if it weren’t for Steinbeck’s ability, they would have easily gotten away.

Haruno says that she would bet on Naomi outclassing Jun’ichirō as a detective, and i have to agree with her. in A Day at the Detective Agency, Naomi’s little plan that i mentioned earlier went off without a hitch. granted, it was likely Dazai who laid out all the steps, but she executed it without error and fooled both her brother and Kunikida.

Naomi is also a highly trusted employee, despite only working part-time (A Day at the Detective Agency, pg 25.) she’s very close with Fukuzawa, and i’d go so far as to say that she acts as a kind of personal assistant for him sometimes. in chapter 15, she is the only Agency employee present alongside Fukuzawa for the between the ADA and The Guild, a very high-stakes and confidential meeting. she is also the only person to think of getting Fukuzawa in chapter 10 when the rest of the employees are bickering about whether or not they can save Atsushi.

(manga panels provided by the amazing @shin--soukoku !! i wasn’t able to access the English translations of this chapter, and they came to my rescue. thank you!!! <3 go follow them they’re so cool and smart and correct about everything.)

in summary: Naomi is freakishly intelligent, and she’s not afraid to use her wits to manipulate a situation to her advantage. she’s well-respected in the Agency, and has the connections to influence others.

Part Three — Their Relationship

(in this part, i will be discussing topics like incest and sexual assault, harassment, and abuse. if that is at all too heavy or triggering for you, please stop reading immediately. take care of yourself, and stay safe <3)

alright, first things first, let’s establish something: these two are siblings. i’ve seen many people that they are not, but i have to disagree.

not only do they commonly refer to each other as brother and sister, but it’s also up in the air as to whether or not Naomi is even aware of their lack of blood-relation. furthermore, two siblings not sharing any DNA doesn’t make them not siblings. fostered, adopted, and step-siblings are still siblings, and as such i will continue to view the Tanizaki’s as siblings. they see each other as brother and sister, and so that is what they are. their relationship is incestuous.

it is also not consensual.

it is stately clearly several times that Jun’ichirō does not enjoy what Naomi does to him, especially when they are in public. here are just a few examples, taken from the A Day at the Detective Agency short story:

“To make matters worse, [Naomi] always tried to have some sort of physical contact with her brother, regardless of location or who was around…. [Jun’ichirō] would start acting self-conscious every time, and his eyes would wander, but Naomi even seemed to enjoy her brother’s reactions.” (pg 26)

“Naomi softly traced [Jun’ichirō]’s collarbone with her fingernail…. [Jun’ichirō] turned red and blinked uncomfortably.” (pg 26)

“[Naomi had] also taken that as an opportunity to try to force herself on [Jun’ichirō], but he managed to escape.” pg. 33

to clarify, the first two quotes take place in front of several of the other detectives, and the third when the two are alone. when it’s said that Jun’ichirō’s eyes were wandering, it was later specified that he was looking at anything but her (pg 27.)

throughout the manga, Jun’ichirō also expresses that he’s uncomfortable with her advances in public. however, whenever he tries to stop her, she threatens or embarrasses him. this is an example of that as seen in chapter 4.

Jun’ichirō, for lack of a better term, resigns himself to this. despite the severe discomfort of himself and everyone who bares witness to them, he makes very few moves to stop her.

the reason for this is stated clearly on page 54 of, you guessed it, A Day at the Detective Agency.

“The only thing [Jun’ichirō] really even wished for was his little sister’s happiness.”

he will do anything if it means making her happy.

Naomi and Jun’ichirō relationship is very realistic in the sense that one person leverages the other’s love against them, as is the case in many instances of incestuous sexual abuse. it’s an incredibly common manipulation tactic, and it results in the abuse lasting for extremely long periods of time.

Jun’ichirō’s willingness to do whatever it takes to make Naomi happy is the very thing she uses against him, weaponizing the love they have for each other so that she can do whatever she would like to him.

and i do think that the love they have for each other is real, to a degree. in my opinion, Jun’ichirō does not see her in either a romantic or sexual light, but he does love her. meanwhile, Naomi absolutely views Jun’ichirō in a sexual way.

in addition to this, i think there’s also a kind of limerence going on between both of them. limerence is when someone has an obsessive, unrequited attachment towards somebody, often surfacing as a romantic or sexual fixation on them, or as pedestalizing them.

Jun’ichirō’s seems to surface as the latter, as seen here in chapter 24.

he’s surpassed just placing her on a pedestal, he’s placed her on the same level as the divine, hence his continued willingness to let her assault and harass him time and time again, despite his own displeasure.

(i would like to further emphasize that the fact that Jun’ichirō loves and idolizes her does not make what she does to him okay. what we see within the manga and light novels can be defined as sexual harassment/assault. furthermore, it’s implied several times that they’ve had intercourse. due to Jun’ichirō’s own blatant discomfort, and the reoccurrences of her manipulating and using threats against him, and how it’s said that Naomi forces herself on him and forces him into doing things, i’m not afraid to call it rape. i just wanted to make it extra clear that despite exploring their characters, i am not excusing anything she does. Naomi is an abuser, and Jun’ichirō is her victim.)

the Tanizaki siblings’ relationship can be summed up as this: Jun’ichirō will let Naomi do anything, so long as it makes her happy, and Naomi takes continuous advantage of this facts.

a very common theme in Bungo Stray Dogs is that the cycle of abuse is not without love, and that you can harm someone you love without intending to, and that you can love someone who has harmed you. Dazai cared for Akutagawa, the Headmaster cared for Atsushi, both Kōyō and Akutagawa cared for Kyōka, and Verlaine cared for Chūya. each of these relationships explore different kinds of abuse—mentor-mentee, mother-daughter, father-son, brother-brother—and the love that is often trapped inside of them. it’s one of my favorite things about this entire series.

this is a topic i will dissect much deeper in my video essay (of which’s release date i am still unsure of at the moment,) but i wanted to mention it here at the end here because i think the Tanizaki siblings are a very good representation of this.

that’s all i have to stay about the siblings at the moment. i’m sorry if some points seem under-supported, i had to leave out a lot to bend around tumblr’s image-limit and to keep this shorter than i originally intended. also my bad for any and all spelling or grammar mistakes, i tried to fix everything but i usually miss some stuff!

thank you so so much for reading all of my rambling thoughts about the Tanizaki’s, and i highly encourage you to add on your own thoughts (agreeing or disagreeing, i’m open to all conversations!!) in either the reblogs, the notes, or my askbox!! i only ask that you be respectful about it, as this is just an analysis i did for fun in my own spare time（⌒▽⌒ゞ thank you all so much again for reading, i know this was a bit of a long one <3

[sunsetcougar]

Welcome to my blog!

So to start off a bit of information about me, the one running the operation.

I go by Sunset and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I’m an AU and angst enthusiast and those two things often go hand in hand. My current hyper fixation is Hazbin Hotel and I have a life long special interest in biology, specifically zoology and ecology. I’m a sapphic aromantic and hate of any sort is not welcome here. I can and will block liberally.

I have an 18+ side blog ( @sunsets-ditch ) and if I catch any minors interacting with that one I will block you.

So! On to my AUs! I’ll include a quick rundown of them, plus links to the origin posts so you know where to start.

A quick note about them is a lot of the content and world building for them takes place in discussion threads, so it would be beneficial to not just read the base posts and my responses to asks, but the full threads.

Cannibal Angel AU

No Angel Dust hasn’t developed a taste for sinner flesh (no you aren’t the only one to make that mistake), rather after an Extermination the cannibal colony finds itself with a newly fallen angel to take care of.

Remember that little cannibal boy Vaggie spared the day she fell? Well this AU explores the idea of what if he made it back to Cannibal Town and brought them back to Vaggie before Charlie found her. Now instead of being nursed back to health and taught about Hell by its princess, Vaggie finds herself taken in by Rosie and the cannibal colony.

Featuring: Vaggie being the cannibal equivalent of that one vegan cousin!

Origin Post

Hawk Feather Exorcists AU

This… wasn’t meant to have a plot. But it does now. The idea behind this AU, nicknamed the Hawk Feather AU, is what if like how Adam and Lilith were made from dust and Eve from Adam’s rib, the Exorcists were made from hawk feathers?

This seemingly small change causes tremors through the very foundation of Heaven and Hell as the much more bird like Exorcists find themselves rejected by Heaven for the very nature they were created to have in the first place.

Featuring: redemption via breakdowns in your enemy turned sparring partners arms!

Origin Post

Playlist

Lore Summary

This AU has a co creator, @thesupernaturalhouse!

Hazbin Zoo AU

This AU is purely self indulgent and a way for me to nerd about my zoology and zoo special interest. But if an AU where the characters work at a zoo sounds appealing to you, then you’ve come to the right place!

Featuring: Birds!

Origin post

Lyrebird AU

Lyrebirds are known for being able to mimic just about anything, from other birds to power tools to crying babies. So what if the exorcists had been designed to have a similar mimicking power and the instincts to use it?

In this world voices can’t be trusted, because if you trust the wrong one you’ll find an exorcist the origin instead of the loved one you thought it was.

Featuring: Mimicking your girlfriend as a sign of affection!

Origin Post

Biotech Exorcists AU

(WARNING: This AU is dark, featuring a lot of body and mind horror, manipulation, mutilation, and experimentation. Tread cautiously)

The exorcists aren’t what most would consider angelic, thriving among murder and chaos instead of among peace and harmony. Most would wonder if they were really angels.

What if they weren’t? What if they were sinners, kidnapped and changed body and mind with machinery to be mindless soldiers? No memories of who they were. No family. No guilt. No identity. Blank. Obedient. Perfect.

Featuring: Adam being like the worst guy ever!

Origin Post

Playlist

Fanfics (2)

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

of course it’s an alicent profile pic saying this shit:

the thing is, i would’ve agreed with the original sentiment of this post if it wasn’t for the tags, but then this person goes mask off and proves to me that they were only pretending to offer meaningful criticism.

cause all i see in these tags is buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️

i just wanna know, why are the targaryens always singled out as the house that ‘regularly cannibalizes its own?’

these don’t exist ig: the she-wolves of winterfell, the current lannisters, and literally every House ever.

why are the targaryens held to such an unfair standard? and why are they held responsible for the sins of their ancestors?

it is literally so funny. but like… in an astonishing kind of way.

in these tags there’s no objective language used 🙅‍♀️ no care for nuance 🙅‍♀️ and no meaningful interaction with the main themes of the series 🙅‍♀️

OP kind of tries to pretend, but it’s all surface level shit. it’s clear that they’re blinded by their hatred of the targs and dany.

because george never holds things his characters can’t control against them. what a character should be judged by is their actions, and imo, that’s what george writes about: how individual characters actions and choices can shape the world around them (bonus if the character is a cripple, bastard, or broken thing and is trying to protect others); and he also puts a lot of emphasis on a characters intentions and how they come to their decisions, which gets us his famous ‘human heart in conflict with itself’ thesis statement.

george, someone who’s interested in the choices of the individual and how they get there, clearly thinks it’s important to showcase how different characters handle great power, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many POV characters in positions of such great importance.

on that note, asoiaf isn’t an anti-monarchy piece. you could easily claim that it’s a criticism of systematic oppression, systematic violence, corrupt institutions, and unbalanced social structures; it’s a sort of think piece on how people in positions of power destroy the lives of the common in their petty fights of greed and ambition, all whilst ignoring the incoming humanity ending threat.

and through this thought process, you get the title of the first book: a game of thrones. the political shifts are a game for these powerful people, and this motif is one of the most important statements to understand in order to interact with the series discussion on what it means to be a good ruler. this motif also comes up in a conversation jorah and dany have about the smallfolk: “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are.” it’s high lords, not royals. it’s a critique of the whole social structure and political system, not a criticism of one family.

so, if you’re of this belief that petty power disputes are dumb and are angry that most high lords don’t give a shit about their subjects, then you should love daenerys, who’s one of the few characters who’s using her power to make lasting societal change.

now, is she perfect? no. no she’s not. cause she’s a teenage girl trying to take down a slave trade that’s been around for thousands of years (hilarious that she’s actually fixing the mistakes of her ancestors…). but dany is learning and is doing her best to get better and is trying to empower the powerless. that sets her apart from almost every other ruler in asoiaf and makes her one of the most important POVs in this book series quest to find out what makes a good ruler. something something gods make kings and queens to protect those who can’t protect themselves…

with that in mind, i agree that the conclusion of the series won’t be a character sitting on a throne because of their blood or because of some divine right mumbo jumbo. imo, a character will only sit on a throne if they’ve been smart, gained allies, formed alliances, have control of an army, have gained loyalty from the people they wish to rule, have been honorable, maybe have a dragon or three, and are a hero.

dany has checked off almost all the boxes, so i think it’s safe to root for her. and considering the foreshadowing, i think it’s logical to guess that peace will be ushered in, even if it’s a hard won peace. and what’s wrong with believing that daenerys will be one of the ones who helps usher in this peace after all the work she’s done to protect those who don’t have the power to protect themselves?

[aftoonfamily]

Fnaf Cats Allegiances

That was something in warrior cats right??? Anyway this is just all the characters I have so far and a little about them just cause it’s easier to understand them once you know who is what.

Also this is basically a replacement post from the one earlier that just had a few things dumped in it. This is not all of them I still have a few I wanna draw but yeah

Warnings for general death, violence, child abuse ig if you wanna call it that, and cannibalism

Springtrap (William) was the leader of whatever Clan this is idk. Just a general Clan ig. As a Deputy, he killed their previous leader (I call them Fallenstar cause they are unimportant and just here to die) and went on to become leader of his Clan. Except StarClan knew exactly what he had done and denied him lives. So he went back to the Clan, claimed StarClan denied him leadership, but he was still loyal to his Clan and took the leadership position without the change. Springtrap didn’t really accept that he was not given the nine lives he believed he deserved and so he took them from kits, eating the evidence and claiming each one was killed by the same foxes that killed his own kits.

Hairybelly (Henry) was Springtrap’s deputy. They grew up in a time in the Clan where there wasn’t many kits being born, so they bonded as the youngest few cats for a long while. From then on, they continued to be close friends into adulthood and when they both became fathers. Many of his kits died just after they were born from a number of issues, but two survived. We all already know Springtrap kills Charkit, leaving him just one kit (Sunnykit is his name) that he was fiercely protective of. And when many kits started disappearing, he was so distracted trying to keep his remaining kit safe that he almost didn’t see the connection Springtrap had with all the deaths.

Foxbite (Mike) was originally a warrior apprentice, but on a stupid bet with his denmates, he led his younger brother Cryingkit out of the camp and daring him to go into an abandoned fox den. When Cryingkit ofc refused, he grabbed him by his little baby scruff and threw him inside. It wasn’t as abandoned as originally thought and a fox easily killed the little guy and gobbled him up. After that, Foxpaw couldn’t stomach seeing all that blood and gore again so he was forcibly given a different job that also handled blood and gore. Springtrap had given him the awful name Foxbite as a mockery and then later, when the Clan was starting to get suspicious about all the kittens disappearing, he placed the blame on Foxbite and exiled him.

Charkit, Cryingkit, and Lilykit are the first victims of Springtrap’s gross cannibalism mess. Charkit was murdered first out of jealousy and cursed to be a wondering soul, but then after Springtrap was denied by StarClan his nine lives, he figured out a way to get the lives he desired using Charkit’s soul. It’s not uncommon for cats to eat their dead kittens, but it is wildly uncommon in Warrior Cats which is weird because they are feral cats so.

Anyways Cryingkit we know how he died, but he ended up becoming a “sort of” vengeful spirit to Foxbite. Really he would just haunt the poor dude with visions and dreams of blood and gore, but he was also aware of what their father was doing, so he often used those dreams to show Foxbite what will happen to other kits if he doesn’t stop Springtrap.

Lilykit (Lizzie) died the day she was supposed to become an apprentice. Well, she was littermates with Cryingkit, so technically they were both supposed to become apprentices, but he didn’t make it to the day. Lilykit had followed her father out of camp one day, seeing him leading another kit out. She didn’t see the kill itself, but she did find her father after it was done. He was covered in blood and thought she had witnessed the deed, so he had killed her to cover his tracks. Later, she was the first kit to find out how to possess other cats.

Suzie, Bearkit, Harekit, Finchkit, and Batpaw are the five missing kits. Suzie was a kittypet that her owners thought could be an outdoor cat, only for her to get killed. Bearkit and Harekit are brothers that Springtrap was able to lure out and kill. Finchkit was another he lured out and then chased until he couldn’t run anymore, deliberately injuring his back legs so he couldn’t escape. Springtrap had waited until Batpaw (Cassidy) arrived before killing him. He had offered his apprentice the kill as a symbol she was loyal and would soon be ready to take the deputy position when she is ready. She had refused, Springtrap killed Finchkit, and then hunted Batpaw down and killed her.

Jeremy is a rogue that lived in a barn with his little sister Suzie. Technically he is a kittypet, but he is a completely outdoor cat outside of a few occasions, so he’s more of a rogue than pet. He was worried for his sister when she went missing, but had no reason to believe she was dead until Foxbite and Hairybelly showed up and told him all this crazy shit about his father and the weird forest cats that always tried to fight him. He helped the two of them with shelter while they planned to kill Springtrap, but he did get into a bit of trouble himself.

Vanny is another one of Springtrap’s kits, this time a bastard child of another kittypet. She came to join the Clan to become deputy after Hairybelly left. Despite distrust from the warriors (animatronics) of the Clan, she was very competent and an overall very strong leader. After the numerous attempts to be killed by Foxbite and Hairybelly, Springtrap was blinded and heavily scarred and needed Vanny to take over most of the hard work. She continued his legacy killing kits to give him more lives even when Springtrap didn’t act like Springtrap anymore.

Thunderfoot (GR Freddy) is a decent of Hairybelly (probably from Sunnykit depending on what I want to do) and he knew there is some dark history surrounding the young kits of his Clan. There were not a lot of kits born now, lots of numbers dwindling because of it, but he didn’t understand why. When a scarred and scrappy kit arrived claiming to be a part of this Clan, he took him in, being an early “mentor” to the kit. But then, friends and family started acting strangely around the kit, and he ended up having to save the kit from getting killed by so many warriors in his own Clan. Even the deputy he once trusted was hunting him down.

Wolfstone (Roxie) is a queen of the current Clan. There’s not much use for a queen without kits, but she did have kits before. She had kits with a rogue, the first litter in moons. But one night, her deputy came into the nursery and killed several of them while she fought to protect them. She had woken to three of her kits already dead, but she grabbed her fourth and ran out of the camp to save her. She had found her mate and left the last of her kits with him before going back to her Clan, determined to reveal what had really happened to her kits and kill the one responsible. It didn’t go as well as she had hoped and she was left heavily injured and blinded. She was forced to stay a queen in the nursery as a cruel punishment for the death of her kits.

Dirtkit (Gregory) and Carrotkit (Cassie) are two displaced kits from whatever Clan this is. Dirtkit was the secret kit of another warrior and Carrotkit was the last kit of Wolfstone. Carrotkit had befriended Dirtkit after hearing stories of forest cats that she has heard her father tell her about her mother. They were both determined to go find the Clans to be reunited, but Carrotkit’s father had kept her from going with Dirtkit. It wasn’t until he came back to bring her there did she go along. But something was off about Dirtkit. He didn’t seem right.

Chickadeetooth (GR Chica) and Lizardclaw (Monty) are some of the loyal warriors to Vanny and Springtrap. Chickadeetooth is Thunderfoot’s sister and a close friend to Wolfstone (before she tries murdering kits lol) and Lizardclaw is just an average warrior that is just a little too desperate for a fight and some blood on his paws. They both get what’s coming to them.

[hazbin-hazwas]

Take Me or Leave Me

Rating: T

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Vox/Original Character(s), Vox, Original Character(s), Valentino, Rosie, Alastor, Zestial, Mentioned Velvette, Mentioned Charlie, Major Original Characters, Original Characters-Centric, Confrontations, Love Triangles, Love Squares, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Business, Rivals to Lovers, Established Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Lies, Threats

Description:

Vega (Vincent), a singer Overlord who has consistently been pestered by Vox to join the Vees, is once again approached by him with the same offer. However, there's a new pre-tense: The Vees are planning something big, and Vox doesn't want them to get caught in the crossfire. For the first time, Vega genuinely considers his offer, but someone else steps in to stir the pot:

Vera, a woman who Valentino so hatefully refers to as "Vox's bitch."

Or:

I looked at my OC, looked at @timeslugarts's OC, and went "Oooo, the girls are fighting."

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54235564

Notes: Thank you SO MUCH to @timeslugarts for letting me use Vera (and Jericho) for this, I had SUCH a blast writing these characters. Additionally, a HUGE thanks to @beansisarat7 and @starchaserbaby for beta-ing this. Reblogs are VERY much appreciated and I enjoy any feedback that you may have ^.^

The bi-monthly Overlord Meetings weren’t mandatory - far from it, actually, if Alastor’s prior disappearance and Valentino and Velvette’s consistent absences were anything to say about it. However, that didn’t mean it wasn’t in any Overlord’s interest to attend. The Vees shared information, anyway, so as long as one of them showed up things were usually fine, and Alastor was… Alastor. But Vega preferred to stay up to date on what other Overlords were doing, so she found herself sitting to the right of Rosie at an office Carmilla Carmine owned.

This meeting wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, save for some surprisingly positive updates on the Princess’s passion project. Now, they were going around the table, sharing any updates they had on their own territories or concerns they had towards others’ actions. As per usual, Vega had none either way - she doesn’t have any permanent territory and the only Overlords she had to be concerned with were the Vees and Alastor since they have (an uncomfortable) amount of control over whether her music got out into the rest of the Pride ring. Vox had nothing new to say, though, and Alastor was too busy with the Princess to focus too much on his radio show anyway.

All she wanted to do was exit this building and go back to cannibal town with Rosie for a cup of tea. These meetings were almost never enjoyable, especially when the time could be spent doing literally anything else.

Finally, just as Carmilla was about to conclude things, Vox spoke up. Vega barely bit back a curse.

“Actually, just before we leave, I wanted to let everyone know that Valentino is throwing a party later. It’s a much more quiet event than what he’s used to - Velvette and I made sure of it - so the… sexual content,” he glanced not-so-subtly at Alastor, “You all are used to will be mostly toned down. Think of it as a bonding exercise of sorts. And, of course, some more higher-class sinners will be in attendance as well, so some souls are up for grabs. I mean, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

It’s silent for a moment as Overlords look at each other and consider the offer. The air isn’t tense, no, far from it, but it’s definitely not relaxed, either.

“What i’ thine catch, Vox? Surely, thou might not but summon something from these events,” Zestial asked, speaking the collective thoughts of the rest of the room.

“No catch,” Vox says, using his signature charming smile. “It’s simply an invite to relax and return to a semblance of normalcy after last month’s failed extermination.” There’s a pregnant pause, and Vega rolls her eyes while fighting back a smile. She had a soft spot for his theatrics, as annoying as they were at times. “ But! I know how secretive this group can be, and what better place to form new alliances than a formal event? Hell beat the Angels in a failed extermination, surely there are new business opportunities - and new dangers - on the rise. As I said before, who would the Vees be if we didn’t have something to offer?”

The ‘something’ dipped into his distorted tone and, for a split second - she wouldn’t have been surprised if most of the other Overlords in the room missed it - his left eye swirled.

“You don’t have to accept now. It’ll be held at Vee Tower at 8pm, tonight. Drinks and catering will be provided if any of you decide to show up.”

And with that, Vox sits down and folds his hand. It’s silent for a second again, and Vega takes the moment to look him over. His hands are folded and, on further inspection, his usual charming smile is much more akin to a smirk. He’s up to something. But then Vox makes eye contact with her and raises a brow so she looks away at Carmilla.

Carmilla clears her throat. “Alright, then. Now, if no one else has any last minute announcements,” she pauses, leaving room for someone to interject, but when no one does, she continues, “Then this meeting is adjourned. I will see you all either later tonight or in two months.”

Vega doesn’t waste time standing up and exiting the room. She feels Vox’s eyes on her as she leaves and ignores the urge to turn around and tell him off. She waits by the stairs for Rosie and Alastor to leave as well. Vox leaves last, not counting Zestial, who most likely stayed back to talk to Carmilla alone like he usually does. They make eye-contact again, though Vox is forced to look away first this time to make it to the elevator in time. She looks away just in time to see Rosie walk up to her with Alastor in tow.

“Oh, don’t tell me ya thinkin’ of takin’ the stairs down! This is a very tall building, y’know, and there are betta ways to avoid claustrophobia. You have wings for cryin’ out loud! Just open a window!” Rosie laughs, placing a hand on Vega’s shoulder. “I’m just kiddin’ with ya, I know you have a reputation on the line just like the rest of us, you gotta save the flyin’ for performin’, I’m sure. Now, are we still on for tea? Because I’m definitely not flyin’!”

Vega smiles - it’s hard not to smile with Rosie - before sighing. “Unfortunately, no. I think Vox is up to something, so I’m going to get ready for tonight to see if I can learn more.”

“Honey, when isn’t Vox up to something? Why, just ask Alasta, I’m sure he could tell you all about Vox’s shenanigans!”

“Yes, but that would require Vox’s shenanigans to be worth telling, now wouldn’t they, my dear?” Alastor jokes as well, leaning into Rosie.

Vega laughs quietly compared to their loud laughter before continuing, “True, but it’s always nice to be ahead of the game. The last thing any of us needs is to be caught off-guard because we underestimated him.”

“Oh, just come ova for tea and we’ll get ready togetha. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to any sort of party outside of Cannibal Town, it could be a’ good use to get out again. What about you Alasta, will you be joining us?”

Alastor laughs and shakes his head. “As if I’d ever set foot in Vee Tower. I’m afraid I must be off back to the Hotel, anyway. The Princess can be quite annoying if people aren’t back by the time they said they would be.”

“Ah, well, then I guess it’s just us girls tonight,” Rosie says with no disappointment - it’s not like it was hard to predict Alastor was going to say no - before hooking her arm with Vega’s and turning the group in the direction of the elevator. “Now, let’s get going. I’m parched!”

.

Vee Tower is weirdly empty, Vince notices, as he and Rosie enter. There was always someone working either in or around Vee Tower, so the fact that there’s only a few people present, each of which looked in the other direction or helped direct them to the party, felt off.

It’s a long elevator ride to the top of the building, but Rosie makes it all the much shorter with her chatter. It was like she never ran out of things to talk about. In terms of outfits, Rosie was wearing a dress with a layered, black skirt. The top layers are lace, showing off a branch pattern that Vince was sure she made herself. He would have deemed the off-the-shoulder sleeves as out of character if they hadn’t held the same embroidery as the lace and looped in front of her. There was a red, metal band that acted as a sort of belt and accentuated her high waist. It probably wasn’t considered ‘semi-formal,’ but when Vince pointed that out, she waved him off with a smile and said, “Live a little, wontcha?”

Vince went for something slightly more toned down. He’s wearing a long, blue, almost Victorian jacket with silver accents. It was backless so that his wings could breathe, meaning that he didn’t actually bother putting on a shirt. Instead, he buttoned the jacket in the middle and wore high-waisted, black trousers. His blue heeled boots and silver accents matched the jacket. He brought one of his microphones with him - the mic gloated in-between two angular prongs - although it really functioned more as a staff. When Rosie saw him grab it, she joked that between the switch in presentation and the mic, Alastor might as well have joined them.

Finally, the elevator dings and the doors open. Rosie cuts herself off, mid-sentence and steps onto the floor. Immediately, she notices the small amount of Overlords present - obviously there’s the Vees, but Zeezi and Zestial were also present, and while not technically Overlords, Odette and Carla are floating around the general vicinity of Zestial as well.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Carmine’s girls if that’s okay with you, Vincent. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been able to talk to them and just look at how much they’ve grown! Honestly, Carmilla needs to start making ‘em sleep in the drawer, y’know, get ‘em to stop growin’.”

Before Vince can respond, Rosie unlinks their arms and makes their way over. Zestial broadens his chest when he notices someone talking to them, but immediately relaxes upon realizing who it is. Carmilla must have asked Zestial to watch over them while they were here, and Vince doesn’t blame her. Who in their (non-horny) mind would willingly stay around Valentino.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you around here,” a voice says into Vince’s ear.

Vince stifles a flinch while he fans away the pink smoke emanating from behind him. 'Speak of the devil.' “I have personal business I need to attend to with the Vees,” he lies.

“Hm? And what could be of trouble now?”

Vince turns around. Valentino didn’t even bother dressing for the theme, still wearing the same stockings and pimp-jacket he usually wore. He assumes that Valentino doesn’t see him roll his eyes. “I need some dancers for a couple concerts.”

“And what do you have to offer me, instead?”

“I continue to give you business instead of finding some souls of my own.”

Vince could have been nicer about that, he supposes, but he wasn’t too keen on dealing with Val’s bullshit tonight. Val’s eyes narrow for a second before he takes another pull from his cigarette.

“How many are you looking for this time?”

“Twenty, maybe. Ten at the least.”

“Hm. Alright, then. I’ll send them by you by the end of the week. The usual spot, I presume?”

“Of course.”

Just when Vince thought that Val would leave him alone, he smirks and blows some more smoke in Vince’s face. This time, he curls his wing around to block it from reaching him.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you’re not more of a dancer yourself, ruiseñor ,” he all but purred, looking Vince up and down. “You have fantastic hips . For a man, maybe not, but for Vega -” he reaches to trail his free-hand down Vince’s side, but Vince raises his microphone to block him.

“Don't touch me,” he bites.

They glare at each other, neither moving from their positions. The smoke from his cigarette swirls around them and Vince can’t help but let the surrounding air chill.

“H-H-Heyyyy! What’s going on here?” Vox’s voice breaks the tension as he slips in next to them.

Almost instantly, Vincent relaxed. He lets Vox move his microphone away from Val, who’s arm he also moves back.

Immediately, Vince notices Vox’s change from his usual attire. The navy blue with electric pinstripes he usually donned was replaced with a sparkling turquoise. His red bowtie deepened in shade but remained nonetheless, this time with gloves to match. The top hat, of course, stayed the same. It’s simple, at least by Vox’s dorky, overdramatic standards, but it somehow works.

“Tonight is not a night for fighting,” he says, looking between the two of them. “Val, why don’t you go talk to Velvette? She said she wanted to have a word with you about your outfit.” He’s more hostile now that he’s only addressing Valentino, causing Vincent to force back a laugh.

Val crosses his arms and pouts, all the while still glaring at Vince. “Fine,” he states, taking another pull. “But be careful,” he teases, getting in Vox’s face, “You don’t want your bitch getting upset.”

Vincent tilts his head, unsure of what Val is implying as he walks away. Vox groans and mutters something indiscernible under his breath about Val before turning to Vince.

“Drinks,” he implores, gesturing towards the bar. His charming smile is back, although not as wide. Vince ponders for a second if it’s genuine.

Vincent returns the smile, ultimately unable to tell, and turns in the direction of the bar. Vox puts his arm around Vince’s back as they walk together. Vince lets him.

The bar is decently crowded, but a group of three sinners move out of the way when they see them coming. Vox leans an arm on the bar and orders two martinis. Vince mirrors him for a second before leaning his back against the bar and placing his microphone between them.

“It’s been a while since Vincent has made an appearance. It’s only been Vega for at least a year, now,” Vox jokes

It’s a shallow attempt at breaking the ice, but Vince chooses to humor him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Vox at an Overlord meeting. It’s been Velvette for at least six months now.”

Vox laughs. Vince is unable to tell where it’s coming from. “Yeah, well, what can I say? VoxTek has been busy with the Extermination having been moved up and all that jazz.”

“So have I.”

The bartender comes back with their drinks. Vox immediately takes a sip of his, but Vincent only pulls him closer.

“How so?”

“TV and porn aren’t people’s only source of entertainment. People also enjoy listening to music and going to concerts. I spent all of the six months leading up to Extermination Day touring the city.”

Vince was surprised Vox didn’t know - half of his dancers on that tour were Valentino’s and at least a fourth of the outfits he had worn were from Velvette’sSex on the Beach collection. Still, Vox looks as though this was his first time hearing about it. He hums in acknowledgement and looks away from him. Vince, content with the silence - their conversations are never good for long, anyway - looks down at his martini and contemplates actually drinking it.

“Do you ever dream of touring the other circles?”

Vincent’s head snaps up to look at Vox, again, who is still looking away from him. He looks distant. “Pardon?”

“The other circles. Greed, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Sloth, Gluttony, do you ever dream of touring them? Seeing what they have to offer? Expanding your reach, your power, your career?”

Finally, when Vox finishes speaking, he looks back at Vincent. For a second, Vince forgets what he came here for. There is something undoubtedly genuine in Vox’s eyes and it actually scares him. Everything about Vox, all of the way down to his name, is fake. So why is he being real ? Vincent looks away first, this time.

“Doesn’t matter. Sinners can’t leave Pride,” he responds. Hell was Hell, after all; even dreams have their limits and contorts into nightmares eventually.

Vox hums again before putting a hand on Vince’s shoulder. Vince almost doesn’t let him.

“Do you want to?”

The reality of why he’s here hits Vince like a truck. He pulls away from Vox as he collects his thoughts. “Why did I even begin to think that you would just want to talk? You even said you wanted to form alliances,” Vincent says, more to himself than Vox.

Vox stands up straight. “Technically, we already have an alliance, this would just be making it official.”

“You provide me with dancers and clothes every once in a while and in return I let you use my songs in your commercials and movies. That isn’t an alliance, that’s polite business.”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Vox asks, voice partially digitalizing.

Vincent looks Vox over. His fake persona was back. Maybe Vince shouldn’t have reacted the way he did, then this conversation could be pleasant and one of them might actually have a chance at changing their minds. He narrows his eyes.

“You have 30.”

“You have a lot of inference. Specifically, you have a lot of influence in the realm of entertainment. The Vees do entertainment. Movies, social media, television, fashion, and you bring music . It works well, together. We would work well together.”

“Twenty.”

“It’s obvious that you’re powerful. You let this,” he grabs Vince’s microphone, “Inhibit your powers or use it as a crutch or something , but imagine what you could do if you fully unleashed. I want to help you with that. The Vees want to help you with that. You don’t keep many secrets, obviously you must be one dangerous opponent if your demon form has yet to see the public’s eyes.”

“Five,” Vinent counts, yanking his staff out of Vox’s hand and already turning around.

“I want you with us.”

Vince freezes.

That’s… New.

“You are everywhere . If it’s not Angel Dust or that damn hotel on a billboard, it’s you. And I don’t know when that stopped being annoying, but it did. I want it to stay that way. The Vees have a plan. Valentino may not like you and Velvette may not really talk to you, but I want you to be a part of it. Don’t make me hurt you, Vincent - Hell needs more Angels like you.”

Vincent turns around, mouth agape. Suddenly, if feels as though the rest of the party - the rest of Hell - doesn’t exist, He got what he came here for: a confirmation that the Vees were up to something and even an, albeit loose, idea of what that plan entailed. By all means, he should be leaving. There should be absolutely nothing stopping him from leaving. Yet, he’s stuck to his spot, frozen in time.

Vincent didn’t like Vox, or any of the Vees for that matter. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. They were rude, disrespectful, egotistical, brash, dramatic, know-it-alls who, unlike most Overlords, directly profited off of sinners’ suffering. It’s not like he could say too much - he was in Hell for a reason and was close friends with Rosie, the Overlord of Cannibal Town - but he was known as ‘The Angelic Demon’ for a reason. He had to have some standards, and the Vees didn’t live up to a single one.

But, just as Vox said it had for him, somewhere along the line it changed. At least, in terms of Vox. There was a fondness in the fights and comfortability in the competition that transpired between them. Their back-and-forth between Vox2Night and live performances had become his favorite part of performing. Vox was the only reason he even downloaded social media - so that their silly feud could continue on their off-hours. Every time he visited Vee Tower on behalf of business with Valentino or Velvette, they found a way to talk, alone for a little bit before things eventually turned sour and they stopped interacting for a while, only to rinse and repeat once one of them did something overly petty. It was a nice routine that was built on definitely not hate, Vince realizes now, and obviously Vox had to have felt the same way.

Because now they were here.

Vox looks genuine again and Vince loses the ability to form words. It’s scary how open and vulnerable he’s being when there’s still so many people around. If Vince didn't know any better, he’d assume Vox was begging him to accept the offer. Vince almost accepts it.

“Is there something wrong here, darling?”

The illusion of solitude shatters as a woman - a sinner, Vince concludes since he doesn’t recognize her - with blue hair, a sleek, black dress, and fire around her neck walks up to Vox. Recognition and fondness flashes in his eyes for a second before he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.

“Just talking with Vincent about joining us, again. We could always use someone with such a strong hold on the music industry on our side,” he responds, and Vincent can’t tell whether it was a complete lie or not. More importantly, if it wasn’t, whether he had fallen for something that was never even there.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s very keen on the idea,” she glares, and Vincent takes the hint.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it, Vox. I appreciate the offer.”

Vox’s expression shifts to that of shock for a second before his usual facade slips back on. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind.”

Vincent turns to leave and find Rosie, but not before grabbing his martini and downing it in one gulp. He wanted, no, needed to leave. After all, he had gotten what he had come here for.

.

“I don’t like the way you look at them,” Vera states, slipping off her gloves and tossing them aside.

Vox yells from the bathroom as he undoes his bowtie. “Excuse me?”

“The Angelic Demon. You look at them the way you look at me. I don’t like it,” Vera repeats, more annoyed this time. There’s no immediate response, so she scoffs to herself and sits down to take off her heels.

“I don’t look at anyone the way I look at you,” Vox reassures, exiting the bathroom. His suit jacket is hung over his arm and his gloves have disappeared as well

Vera deadpans, “Alastor.”

Vox hesitates as he opens his closet. “That’s different. He’s… unobtainable. And a bitch.”

Vera finds it in herself to laugh at that, but doesn’t loosen up for long. “They aren’t unobtainable. Bitch? Arguably. Probably. But not unobtainable.”

“And how do you know? They have never once even begun to consider any of my offers.”

He sits down on their shared bed beside her now as he unbuttons his shirt. Vera raises her brows.

“They said they’d consider it, this time. Besides, there has to be a reason why you keep offering and they keep listening.”

Vox’s eyes widen and he looks away. He doesn’t respond.

Vera scoffs again and mutters, “Exactly.”

They finish getting ready for bed in silence. The air is thick with tension, but Vera doesn’t say anything - she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. Just as she’s about to turn off the lamp on her bedside table, Vox speaks:

“I love you. You do know that, right?”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“But you said-”

“I didn’t say anything except that I don’t like how you look at them. I was letting you know; there’s no need to put words in my mouth.”

Vox frowns but doesn’t say anything else. He turns off his lamp, which signals Vera to do the same. Vera sighs as she closes her eyes.

“And I love you, too. For the record.”

.

Vera sits outside of a coffee shop, waiting for Vega to walk by. She had checked the security cameras in the area immediately surrounding Cannibal Town - where Vega had been known to frequent - and was banking on her walking down this street like she usually did on the way to whatever studio or club she was working at that day.

Vox didn’t say anything about her when they had woken up that morning, seemingly forcing himself to forget that their dispute even happened.

Vera didn’t forget.

She didn’t entirely know why she was here. She didn’t entirely know what she was going to do, either. She does know that it’s dumb to act this impulsively, but something was telling her that Vega was going to accept Vox’s offer this time and she needs to let her know her place, Overlord or not. Vera laughs bitterly at that thought. Since when was she the jealous type? And since when did she consider Vox something worth being jealous over?

One of the flames around her neck shoots off to the side, taking her away from her thoughts. It hovers on the other side of the street. A few seconds later, Vega passes it.

Vega navigates Pentagram City too carelessly for an Overlord, but Vera isn’t complaining. It made her easier to find, after all. Just as Vera is about to slip out of her seat to tail her, Vega turns to cross the street.

“Shit,” she swears and attempts to hide her face in her cup of coffee. She attempts to tell herself that it’s a coincidence, but she knows she’s been caught. Not once in any of the archived footage had Vega stopped here.

Only when the flame returns to her neck does Vera look up. Of course, Vega slides into the seat across from her. She’s smiling politely and Vera is already annoyed.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yes.”

They lock eyes for a second. Vera’s gaze hardens, daring Vega to leave. Vega laughs and looks away.

“I’ve worked both with and against the Vees long enough to know when I’m being watched.” She pauses, waiting for Vera to say something. Vera says nothing. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

“And who am I, exactly?” Vera pushes, leaning forward. Maybe this was good. It took away some of the impulsivity but still let get done what she wanted to get done - intimidate Vega.

“Vox’s bitch,” Vega laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Valentino’s words, not mine.”

Vera scoffs. “Of fucking course he said that.”

“So you’re not Vox’s bitch then?”

Vega is smirking, arms crossed. Vera glares the best glare she can while taking another sip of her coffee. “That’s a way to word it.”

“But you’re not fond of it.”

“ No. Who the fuck would be ?”

Vega bites her tongue. “What would you like me to call you? I’m Vega, as I’m sure you-.”

“I know your name. I’m Vera.”

Vega looks Vera up and down at being cut off. She was wearing a burgundy leather jacket with  a black tank top and her hair was up in a ponytail. Vega couldn’t make out the rest of Vera’s outfit, but she was sure it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary, either. Save for the flames circling her neck, she didn’t look like much of a threat. Humming to herself, she pushes out her chair and stands up.

“Excuse me, where do you think you’re going?” Vera asks, standing up as well.

Vega looks over her shoulder, walking away. “Leaving. You’re not who I expected to be talking to, nor are you a threat to my well-being.”

“Oh, I’m a threat. I may not be an Overlord, but a reputation means a lot to someone who is. Don’t underestimate the kind of power I have on these streets just because I’m not invited to your special meetings,” Vera growls.

Vega huffs. She doesn’t believe that Vera is bluffing - she’s seen first-hand the kind of things that can be done to someone’s power because a sinner with none gets determined - but she still doesn’t think that her bite is necessarily worse than her bark.

“There isn’t anything you can do,” she starts, looking back in front of her to cross the street again, “That the ‘Angelic Demon’ can’t do to herself by agreeing to work with the Vees.”

Vega doesn’t wait for a response before crossing the streets. And when Vera yells, “Leave him alone!,” she doesn’t dignify her with one, either.

Vera watches as Vega crosses the street and turns back the way she came. Once she’s out of sight, Vera leaves the cafe as well and starts to make her way back to Vee Tower. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Vox, even if he is a concern, it’s that she doesn’t trust Vega. Whatever her reputation may be, when it comes down to it, she’s a sinner. And while Vera is 100% sure she can handle whatever Vega throws her way, that doesn’t mean she wants to have to catch it.

.

“I don’t get your point!” Vox yells, slamming his fist against his desk. He turns around and throws his arms out. “Vega joining us helps us. All of us.”

“Oh really?” Vera yells back, running her hands through her hair. Her flames are scattered around the room, floating in place. “Because the speech you were giving her at the party sure didn’t seem like it was to benefit all of us!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, we’ve been together how long and you don’t know I’m good at manipulation? And obviously I have her falling for it if you did!”

It’s been like this since Vera got home. Velvette was here, originally, but she left once they started raising their voices. Valentino called to ask Vox about something or another, but was quickly hung up on. He sent someone up to bother him but then that worker was friend almost to his second death, so now they were completely alone. They were both sure that they could be heard throughout Vee Tower, but neither was exactly keen on quieting down, either.

“Shut the fuck up, Vox, you and I both now that that wasn’t manipulation,” Vera sasses, crossing her arms. “Because if that was manipulation, then everything us has been as well.”

“That means it was good manipulation, Vera!!”

“You think you’re so slick, you know that?” Vera says, walking up to Vox. “You can admit whatever you want to yourself and you can deny whatever you want to yourself, but everyone around you can see right through your screen. You love her, or at the very least are interest-.”

“Oh my Satan, you are such a fucking HYPOCRITE!” Vox interrupts, voice glitching. He grabs the hand that Vera is pointing at his chest to stop her before dropping it and continuing, “You don’t get to stand here and yell at me about how you think I’m going to fucking cheat on you with that prude when you have Jericho in your fucking life. If you think I don’t see the way you two look at each other, the way you two touch each other, then you must think I’m the stupid one and fucking newsflash, I’m not.”

Vera backs up. “Me and Jericho aren’t-”

“Anything that you’re going to say, I’m going to call bullshit on because, first of all, it’s bullshit, and second of all, I’ve definitely said the same things about Vega. You don’t trust me? That’s fine, but then you’ve lost the trust I have for you. Which is insane , by the way, because you know how few people I trust. I fucking love you, Vera, so much that it scares me, but what goes for you in this relationship I am trying to have for you goes for me, too, so if you get to have your side-piece, then I get to have mine.”

Vox stares at Vera, waiting for her to say something, anything, but when she’s silent, he groans and starts to make his way towards the elevator.

Vera wants to say something but isn’t sure what exactly to say. Vox isn’t right. He can’t be. But maybe he’s not wrong, either? She hasn’t thought about what she and Jericho were to each other, so it’s not impossible to say that maybe there was… Something there that they hadn’t put a proper label on. But for Vox to bring it up now was fucking absurd , right? Jericho was one of her only still-living friends, it was wrong of him to imply that he shouldn’t be a part of her life.

Before she can get her thoughts together, the elevator door shuts and Vox is out of sight.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, Vera notices him show up on one of the screens on his desk. She sits down and notices camera footage from the lobby as well - Vega was standing at the secretary’s desk. She frowns to herself and pulls herself in closer to the desk. The flames return to her, floating closer to the screen as if watching, as well.

Okay, so maybe Vera was a bit hypocritical. But if anything, she was territorial, and this bitch was not about to take was hers before she could correct what was wronged.

.

Vega leans against the front desk of Vee Tower. The day had gotten unbelievably slower since she met with Vera, having gotten back to Cannibal Town to discuss potentially, temporarily joining the Vees with Rosie. Just her luck, Alastor was also there, and was incredibly upset at the very prospect of one of his allies joining the Vees. It was a mess and a half of a conversation, with the verdict being that Rosie would continue to be friends with her, and while any agreements - not deals, never deals - she had made with Alastor will continue to be upheld, any camaraderie they had had would be no more.

So, in other words, she pissed off the Radio Demon.

First a sinner with fireballs around her neck and a romantic attachment to Vox threatens to destroy the reputation and therefore status she’s built for herself, and next, one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords is no longer on friendly terms with her.

Fucking fantastic.

Now, she was waiting for Vox to be free. Apparently something had come up last minute, and the addition of a fourth Vee was just so much less important than whatever he had going on.

Not that she was upset that she wasn’t one of Vox’s priorities.

Because she wasn’t.

Vega is brought out of her thoughts by the elevator dinging. Vox exits, looking incredibly annoyed, but freezes in his traps when he notices Vega.

“Uh, Mr. Vox, Sir? The Angelic Demon said she had important matters to discuss with you-”

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, cutting off the secretary and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “You’ve thought about my offer, I presume?”

“I think you’ll be happy, for once.”

Vox gestures in front of him to the entrance. “Walk with me, why don’t you?”

He wraps around her back and begins to lead her outside. Vega notices the cameras following them. Vera, she assumes. Leaning in slightly closer to Vox - if Vega had any flaws, pettiness was definitely one of them - she walks with him.

The cameras outside of Vee Tower continue to follow Vox and Vega, as well as the other cameras in the surrounding area.

“So,” Vox starts, still sounding on edge from his fight with Vera, “Has your answer changed at all, or did you not wanna say no to my face.”

He’s attempting to make humor of the situation, but there’s disappointment there. For a second, Vega feels guilty at repeatedly saying no, before remembering that she’s only saying yes this time for more information. She’s not becoming a permanent part of the Vees, so there’s no need to feel any sort of guilt.

Right?

“It has changed, actually,” Vega answers, pushing that train of thought aside. She pretends to not notice Vox freezing for a second. “I don’t have confidence that what you’re planning is going to work, but there’s always a chance. And if I’ve learned anything from this awful place, it’s that you have to do what it takes to survive. I’m in.”

Vox freezes completely now and turns to face Vega. For a second, he’s back with Vera, thinking about everything she had said. But then the second passes and he forces himself back to the moment and sticks his hand out.

“Shake on it?”

“I know better than to shake on something, down here,” Vega teases, so Vox drops his hand. She looks behind him and sees one of the security cameras from the club behind them focused on them. She smirks and holds out her arms. “How about a hug? A little bit of my style and a little bit of yours.”

Vox doesn’t hesitate before closing the distance. Vega closes her eyes for a second, feeling a sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t expecting, before opening them to continue staring at the camera.

When they pull apart, Vox rewraps his arm around Vega’s back and pulls along the sidewalk with him. “I came down here for some air, so how about you continue to walk with me and tell me what exactly it is you expect from a partnership with the Vees. I’ll message my employees to start setting up one of our vacant floors for you.”

Vega laughs before winking at the next camera she notices following them, fully aware of the double-meaning of what she’s about to say next: “Of course, what else are partners for?”

Vera stands up, knocking her chair over in the process, and rushes to one of the couches to find where she left her phone. She’s not one to make an empty threat. Pulling up her contacts, she scrolls down to the J’s and clicks on one.

“Hey, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I’m gonna need your help with something.”

She pauses, looking back at the computer screens and zoning in on Vox. He’s completely rid of the frustration and anger he was displaying earlier and his arm has now dropped to be around Vega’s waist.

Two can play at that game.

“Actually, Jericho? Make that two things.”

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter IV.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The beginning of the end...

WORD COUNT: ~7.5k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The start of a very wicked love triangle, slowburn slowburn slowburnnnn, mentions of religion (Catholicism), porn WITH plot !!!, some characterization, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: this took me longer than i anticipated solely bc i hate rereading my writing lol i'm tryin suuuuper hard to get javi's characterization down so i hope i'm doing him justice fr 🙏🏽 the plot is slowly getting started and i'm just rly hype for it bc i love the whole southern gothic vibe like it EATS!!! anyways feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

“You know, most guys woulda thrown in the towel by now.” Paloma tells him, legs steadily peddling her bicycle as Javier drives in his cruiser alongside her. 

“Most guys are idiots, querida.” He replies cooly, one arm dangling lazily out of the driver’s side window and his aviators sitting pretty on the bridge of his nose.

Paloma’s laugh rings out beautifully and he can’t keep himself from smiling. “S’no wonder they quit on you. You’re stubborn as hell.” He grumbles, thinking of the various times that she’s rejected his offer to drive her wherever she needed.

Initially, Javier’s behavior bordered on being a downright nuisance, deliberately encroaching on her personal space with excessive proximity. It wasn’t entirely due to his duties; rather, he found amusement in witnessing her irritation. The combination of her sharp retorts and accompanying eye rolls became an addictive response he couldn’t resist provoking.

It was entertaining, to say the least.

Amidst his constant patrolling, Javier got to learn more about her little by little. Details like what her routine consists of and how she interacts with others.

It’s abundantly evident that Paloma is adored by nearly everyone she encounters. Her kindness, wit, talent… beauty. It’s thoughts like these that had him second guessing how he was approaching the sheriff’s orders.

It was making him feel like a stalker, honestly, so he decided to pull back a bit. She is grown, after all, and she’s reminded him of that fact almost daily. 

So, Javier gave her the space they both need. Not following her around everywhere or posting up outside her job. During his downtime, he is able to put more analytical attention on the current homicide case. Starting with the guy that had lingered at Nina’s funeral.

He asked around, trying to get any information about a potential boyfriend or anything of that nature but came up empty handed.

Paloma grins proudly at his words. “You say stubborn I say strong-willed. I do appreciate you easing off, though.” She looks over at him and he admires how pretty she looks beneath the sunlight.

Brown hair clipped up into a messy updo and a soft, yellow sundress adorning her body. A hidden gem in this vast and obscure town.

“‘Least I could do. Helps me think, too, drivin’ around.” Javier keeps himself from reminiscing on his days in Colombia and the endless amount of stakeouts he’d been apart of. Sure, his ass would get numb and most of the time they acquired nothing but it helped him analyze any and every detail he could examine; often the copious amount of time he spent trying to piece everything together lead to a bigger break in the investigation.

He’s just applying the same technique here. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to make anything out of it all.

“Ah, so the car is your go to spot? Mine is the abandoned tracks over by Montrose. For some reason, I think better there… if that makes any sense.” The conversation continues easily and naturally. That is another thing he’s come to learn about her, Paloma is very amiable.

“It makes sense, muñeca. You shouldn’t go by yourself, though. Don’t know who could be followin’ you all the way out there…”

“I think it’s an officer that goes by Peña and I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.” She teases him and he rolls his eyes, letting out a dry chuckle.

Javier really wants to urge her to let him take her to work but he knows she’ll challenge him.

Thinner strands of her hair stick to her neck and other damp areas of her face; the sweat on her thighs which he can see gleam beneath the hot sun each time she pedals. That leather seat she’s sitting on must be uncomfortable.

“I’m sure he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t run into any trouble. Which is why I think you should let me give you a ride to the library before you pass out and die of heat exhaustion tryin’ to bike there.” Javier tilts his head to the side to look at her and she stays quiet, thinking over his words before letting out a defeated sigh.

“Fine, but only because it’s hot as shit and I may or may not be jealous of the A/C in your cruiser.” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips as she caves in, rolling the vehicle to a smooth stop and putting it into park so that he could mount her bicycle to the back of it.

Javier’s eyes trail over her form as her back is turned to him, grabbing her things out of the small basket. If her father knew the scandalous thoughts he had about her— he’d have him quartered and drawn. That does have a wave of guiltiness wash over him since the man is trusting him fully to look out for her and her wellbeing.

Which he is, in that regard Romeo has nothing to worry over, it’s Javier’s attraction to her that’s messing with his conscience.

It doesn’t help that Paloma plays into it, feigning innocence when she gets a reaction out of him. Maybe he shouldn’t be so reactive.

“I got it.” Javier insists, taking ahold of the metal handle and brushing up against her as he does so. He feels her body stiffen at the sudden touch yet he keeps a satisfied simper at bay.

“Thank you, officer.” She recovers smoothly with that intriguing timbre she uses when they banter flirtatiously.

It is so wrong yet so right of them to continue whatever this is. Seeing just how far they can take it before the inevitable happens. Javier will hold off as much as he can, really he will, for the sake of his job and budding friendship with Romeo… if she ever decides to be explicit in her demands, however, it’s going to take a lot of willpower to not give in.

Once the bike is secured and she’s in the cruiser, he hops back into the driver’s seat and begins the drive into town.

The ride is silent at first, Paloma shoving her face in front of the small vents on the passenger side and letting the gust of air cool her down. He catches glimpses from his peripheral as she digs through her bag to pull out a satin handkerchief, wiping her face and neck, then her thighs.

He can’t help as his stare follows the motion of her dragging the fabric along her smooth and sweaty skin. Almost jealous of the damn thing, imagining it to be his touch instead.

“I wouldn’t be in this predicament had my car been fixed…” she breaks their silence, peeking over at him as she fixes up her hair. It’s clear he understands the implication behind her words.

“I did volunteer myself to take a look at it, didn’t I?” Javier responds as she sprits some perfume onto her wrists and behind her ear, rolling on some deodorant and just like that Paloma’s freshened up. Now the cab of his cruiser smells like her and it’s going to drive him fucking insane.

“If I remember correctly, yes.” He stops at an intersection, finally being able to look at her properly. 

“You free Saturday?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Paloma’s eyes twinkle in pure mischief.

“Your dad would kill me if I did that.”

“In front of the whole town, too. Make an example outta you.”

“I’m tryin’ to steer very clear of that, so no, baby, unfortunately I’m not askin’ you out on a date. I’ve got time to stop by and take a look at it before I go in for my shift.”

Paloma purses her lips in thought as Javier trudges forward, the terrain changing from dirt road to asphalt as they near the library.

“Yeah, you can come by at lunch. Daddy’s out all weekend on some huntin’ trip with his friends so… I’ll be home alone.” It’s tantalizing, the way she drops that tidbit of information at the end. Javier is well aware of Romeo’s absence but he hadn’t stopped to think what that meant for him and Paloma.

As if there is a him and Paloma.

She flirts and eyes him like she would let him have his way with her but she is also strong-willed and and clever enough to be leading him on.

He’s just now built some rapport with her and he doesn’t want to jeopardize it. They can continue flirting without crossing the physical threshold. 

“Alright, nena, I’ll see you at lunch Saturday.” He’s in front of the main entrance to the building now.

“It’s a date, officer.”

“You must want me dead.” He huffs.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.” She pauses, biting down on her lower lip, “It’ll be our little secret.” Paloma whispers before opening the door.

He begins to swell in his pants as her voice drops into a whisper, words coated in seductive suggestion at the idea of them fooling around inconspicuously. 

“Wait, your bike—” He’s already reaching down to unbuckle himself when she stops him, leaning in through the open window of the now closed door.

“Don’t worry about it. You can take me home later. I get off at 6.” She winks at him, pulling back and turning on her heels to walk inside.

Javier slumps in his seat, head falling back against the headrest as he reminds himself how fucked he is.

When Saturday afternoon rolls around, Javier’s heart is racing in anticipation of his alone time with Paloma at the Leighton residence.

All week he’s been plagued with profane scenarios of what could potentially unfold. Partially because he hasn’t gotten laid since returning stateside but also for his unwavering carnal desire for her.

The fact that she is irrevocably off limits only intensifies his yearning. He wants Paloma so bad because he can’t have her.

That’s lead to him finishing into his fist in the shower, images of her kneeled before him with her mouth wrapped around his cock at the forefront of his mind.

The first time it had happened, he felt like a damn teenager getting off to a crush. But then it continued to happen and at that point he just let his fantasies run amuck. 

It’s not like he’d ever tell her or anyone for that matter, so his illicit imagination will continue to be just that: fleeting thoughts. Guilty pleasures only he can indulge in.

He pulls onto the property with ease, cutting the engine and sitting there for a minute to collect himself. It’s embarrassing for Javier to give himself a pep talk at his grown age, ‘keep your shit together’ his new mantra.

With his metallic toolbox in hand, he’s ready to knock against the screen door when he hears music playing faintly nearby. He follows the tune, rounding the corner of the wraparound porch to the backyard.

The music is recognizable now, a Fleetwood Mac song and his eyes fall on the girl lounging peacefully.

Paloma’s in a hammock, her long legs crossed over one another and hanging from the side. She’s reading a romance novel, he notes, from the incredibly cliché cover of a buff man with a half dressed woman in his grasp. He can faintly hear her humming along to the song, fingers tapping in rhythm against the hardcover of the book.

“Hola muñequita.” Javier greets suavely which has her peeking over her book then smiling wildly when she sees him.

“You made it!” Paloma excitedly stands from her spot, allowing him get a better look at her. She’s got on a red bikini top and a jean mini skirt. He wasn’t prepared to see this much of her bare skin and it throws him off entirely. So much for that pep talk.

It is a magnificent sight, though. Thankfully his sunglasses shield her from his wandering gaze, but with the intensity of his stare, she can probably feel it.

Javier knows her figure is divine, all the different outfits she wears both around town and on stage showcased her assets tastefully. However, seeing her in a top that’s almost too small and a skirt that’s definitely too short has those desires of his ramping up viciously. 

It doesn’t help that she’s got a dainty, golden cross necklace hanging from her neck. It rests tantalizingly against the smooth skin right above the swell of her breasts. So many things he fantasizes about doing to her and none of them holy. The piece of jewelry reminds him that he needs to back off. 

Amidst his leering, Javier notices a faint scar running from the left side of her hip up to below her breast and he’s curious to know how it got there.

“You had an inclination that I wouldn’t make it?” He returns to the conversation before it’s painfully obvious that he’s checking her out.

Paloma smirks, meeting him halfway as he descends the steps of the porch to approach her. Her hands cross behind her back and she stares up at him through her mascara coated lashes. “Figured you’d probably wanna spend your Saturday afternoon at home instead of playin’ mechanic.” She sways lightly and he narrows his eyes at her. 

He can see right through her act, not that she’s being very subtle.

“I’m a man of my word. Already been puttin’ off this visit longer than I should have.” He can’t help himself from bringing his finger up to twirl a strand of her hair, enjoying the silkiness of it against his touch before letting it fall softly against her.

If they hold their gaze a second longer, one of them will break and while Javier is certain that it’d be blissful, it would also be a mistake.

“Here, I’ll take you to her. She’s in the shed.” It’s like she can read his mind, nudging her head in the direction of the small structure and she turns to begin leading him there, in which he follows wordlessly, not being elusive at all as he gets a better look at her from this angle. The skirt is just barely covering the curve of her ass, and a flash of red is revealed each time she takes a step.

He bites down on his tongue harshly, adverting his gaze and thinking of literally anything else to keep his erection away.

He surveys the area of the backyard, not seeing a pool or any body of water nearby and he wonders why she has the bathing suit on.

Not that it should matter to him. She’s probably just tanning, you pervert. It’s hotter than hell out today.

Paloma’s humming again as she goes to remove the wooden plank that keeps the door of the shed closed, grunting as she struggles to pull it free. The soft sounds she emits do nothing but make it harder for him to show some fucking resilience.

“Do you need help—” Javier’s cut off as she successfully slides the thick piece off, resting it against the metal wall and dusting her hands off on her skirt.

“Appreciate it, though.” She flashes him a toothy grin, the wide doors creak as she pulls them open; revealing a beautiful vintage car. 

Javier lets out a low whistle, perching his sunglasses on the top of his head and placing his toolbox on the ground as he walks around the vehicle to get a better look at it.

His hands fall to his hips, circling the area slowly and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re tellin’ me the mechanic didn’t jump at the chance to fix this thing?”

“Like you said, most men are idiots.” He can’t help but laugh, exhaling from his nose.

“S’always interestin’ to see it in practice.” He returns to the front of the car, propping open the hood and getting a better look inside. “You got the keys?”

“In the visor.” She replies, “Good luck tryin’ to get her to start. All she does is stutter before given’ out entirely.”

Javi makes a note of that, acknowledging her with a hum, already seeing a few things out of place and he’s eager to get to working on it.

Before turning to law enforcement, Javi had the inkling to become a mechanic. Plenty of his uncles worked in auto shops and he has vivid memories of spending hours there with them learning everything he could under their supervision.

Experiences he holds near and dear to his heart, it’s part of the reason why he’s so clever and dexterous.

“I’ve got some stuff I gotta get done. Try not to miss me…” Paloma’s voice rings out and Javier hadn’t noticed that he zoned out.

He glances at her over his shoulder, “I’m more interested in gettin’ to know Darla, if I’m bein’ honest with you, hermosa.”

Paloma had to excuse herself before she quite literally jumped on Javier and had him take her against the hood of her car. The way he looked with his hands on his hips, eyes focused on admiring the vehicle had left her in a trance that she was sure if she stared any longer, she would have started drooling.

Something about the promise of seeing him sweaty and greased up had her mind spiraling with different erotic fantasies that would surely send her to straight to hell.

So she properly lets him be, busying herself with a few chores she has to get done before leaving for the creek with Sloane later. It is the first time Paloma will be meeting August and she’s nervous even though she doesn’t look it.

She finished the book Slo had passed on to her in a matter of days, intrigued to learn more about August’s ideas and the concepts he’s clearly very passionate about. When she relayed this over to Slo, the middleman between the two, she wasted no time in conjuring up a plan for them to meet. Originally, it was going to be more intimate with just the two of them but Paloma stressed that she was not ready for that so Sloane was quick to make it a group affair by suggesting they hang out by the creek.

It’s why she is currently clad in a bathing suit, with the summer at full send; being down by the water seemed like the best way to spend the latter half of her afternoon.

Right now, though, she’s more focused on not trying to fuck her dad’s friend slash co-worker.

Some time passes, and when Paloma takes a look out in the direction of the shed, she sees that he’s ditched his flannel, leaving him in a white undershirt and his broad shoulders are now on full display as he leans over the hood.

That’s when she sees it. It glistens beneath the sunlight, a silver pistol tucked between his jeans at his lower back. She knows officers carry a weapon on them at all times, but the unorthodox placing of Javier’s further adds to the appeal of this alluring man. God damn him and his desirability. 

Paloma’s mind now wanders to the repeated wet dream she keeps having, the one where Javier takes her on the wooden railing of the porch. Specifically, the variation where he’s kneeled in front of her, her dress covering his face as he devours her entirely.

She interlocks her fingers in his hair and tugs at it, in which he responds by wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it harshly. That leaves her wailing and panting his name over and over and over again…

The force in which her thighs clench together is enough to snap her out of her delusions. She’s no better than a man, really, and she huffs to herself as she reenters the house to grab the six pack of beers, her guitar and notebook before sauntering over to him.

She’s more than capable of handling just being around Javier without thinking sinfully. It’s why she’s walking like a woman with a purpose, trying to prove to herself that she can be totally normal about this… budding friendship she has with him.

“How’s it goin’ in here?” Her voice cuts through the sound of the radio that continues to play softly. She brought it in here for him to have some entertainment before she hurried off to the house.

Javier pulls back, lips twitching up into a smirk as he eyes the beers in her hand. “Goin’ fine. Whoever you took her to really fucked it up. No wonder he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s everythin’.” Back of his hand wipes sweat from his brow, some of his hair matted against his damp skin. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

“Never said that. I just said on occasion.” She reminds him, popping the cap off of two beers then handing him one. He thanks her softly, wiping his hand on the already stained rag and tucking it into his back pocket. 

Her knees almost go weak at the action, but she’s a woman on a mission, remember?

“So what’s the occasion today?”

“It’s hot as fuck outside.” They share a laugh and tap their bottles together before taking a long sip.

“And the guitar?” 

Paloma sits on the wooden chair nearby, her spot whenever she comes in here to keep her dad company while he’s in the middle of building something. Most recently, some planter boxes she’d requested for their garden.

“I figured since I had some new company, I could play something for you. It helps move the writing process along.” She kicks her sandals off, tucking her legs beneath her and laying the guitar across her lap.

“I’m getting a peek behind the curtain of Paloma Leighton’s illustrious writing process? Well, I’m truly honored,” he remarks, dripping with sarcasm. She rolls her eyes at his jest but can’t help but chuckle, taking another sip of her beverage and downing it in one gulp.

She catches the intensity of his gaze lingering on her throat, tracing the subtle movements with each swallow. Paloma can’t help but entertain the thought: does he fantasize about her as she does about him?

“Don’t feel too special. I’m always playin’ somethin’ for someone.” She sets the finished bottle aside, thumbing through her notebook until she finds the adequate page and folds the tattered front so that it lays flat on the thick arm of the chair. 

As she does this, Javier lights a cigarette and puffs out a cloud of gray smoke. “You do it all yourself?” She can hear the curiosity in his tone and for some reason, it makes her blush.

“For the most part. The band just helps bring it all together. They add the umph to it… s’not always the case, though. Sometimes I oversee the entirety of it. From the lyrics to the melody and everything in between. It’s real fun.” She begins to tune her guitar, brows pulling in concentration as her ears perk up to catch any inconsistencies until she’s thoroughly pleased with how it sounds.

Javier remains silent, his fond gaze lingering on her as he takes a drag from his cigarette. With practiced ease, he lifts the beer bottle to his lips, alternating between the two vices at a leisurely pace. As he delves deeper into understanding her, the allure intensifies, dangerously blurring the lines between flirtation and something more profound.

Something more. He’s trying real fucking hard not to see it like that. 

Javi’s never been inclined to seek deeper connections with his partners. Emotions and commitments tend to complicate matters, a burden he’s well-acquainted with in his already convoluted life. He sees no need to add unnecessary strain by entering into half-hearted relationships.

This is why he exclusively pursues sex, seeking gratification without the complications of emotional entanglements. His experiences in Colombia, where he didn’t mind paying for intimacy, epitomized this mindset. There, a mutual understanding prevailed: their encounters were solely about shared pleasure, with no expectation of anything beyond.

In the short months that he’s been here, Javi has finally began finding some kind of peace in Seminary, all things considered, and while fucking the sheriff’s daughter would be a bad move— catching feelings for her would be a hundred times worse.

“It’s a little morbid, m’still workin’ on it and it’s fairly short. S’just the chorus.” Javier nods, letting her know that he’s listening as she begins to sing.

“If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses, Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song. The sharp knife of a short life, Now I know there’s no such thing as enough time.”

Her voice is softer, southern accent complimenting her strums on the guitar and while he enjoys the electrifying performances she puts on stage; he loves hearing her like this.

Rich and smooth. Like miel (honey).

“You’re right, it is morbid.” He comments, truthfully, and Paloma lets out a breath.

“I tried not lettin’ what happened to Nina get into my writing. No need to keep dwellin’ on it but damn is it hard to keep it away. Figured I’d just get it out of my system and get back to workin’ on my other stuff.” 

“There’s nothin’ wrong with dwelling on it…” He begins tentatively, already sensing a pang of regret for broaching the subject. Once more, he finds himself grappling with the challenge of articulating his thoughts effectively.

“I know, but for my peace of mind it’s best I just get on with it.” Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, fingers plucking at the guitar strings again.

For the next hour or so, they immerse themselves in conversation, delving into a wide array of topics. While Javier meticulously tends to the car’s engine, Paloma remains by his side, offering her company. Amidst their discussions, they explore trivial details about each other’s lives: favorite movies, food preferences, and other basic facts. Through these exchanges, Javier learns of Paloma’s irrational fear of reptiles, her affinity for sleeping with her windows open, and her distinct preference for waffles over pancakes.

Javier indulges in the easy flow of their conversation, sharing with her his fondness for spy novels, his penchant for card games, and reminiscing about his favorite arepa spot in Bogotá.

The latter captivates her, drawing her focus entirely. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you lived there for such a long time. It’s just unimaginable to me... A completely different country... so fascinating.” She muses, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

He’s eager to shift away from this subject, recognizing her genuine curiosity and good intentions. However, he’s apprehensive about delving into discussions about his past work and experiences, topics he’s not ready to broach. With a brief, dismissive response, he seeks to subtly steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Yup, lotta crazy shit…” He returns his attention to the engine and Paloma catches the hint and doesn’t say much else after.

“Paloma!” The sudden call of her name has them both turning their heads to the opened doors of the shed where he sees a girl her age standing on the porch, searching the area until her eyes fall on the two of them and she beelines in their direction.

“I’ve been knockin’ on your front door like a crazed woman for the past five minutes! There’s a random truck parked out there, what’re you doin’—” When the girl’s gaze lands on Javier, her entire body language switches and he raises his brows at the change. “I didn’t know you had company. Who’s this handsome fella?” 

Javier is accustomed to captivating the attention of women, especially the striking ones. They consistently cast him that same flirtatious glance, their gestures taking on an added want of attention. This encounter proves to be no exception. With her bottom lip captured between her teeth, she checks him out not so subtly, her gaze lingering on his toned arms before returning to meet his gaze, a playful spark dancing in her eyes.

Maybe this is exactly what he needs: a diversion to divert his attention from Paloma. Despite his intense desire for her, he knows it would only lead to complications in the future.

Pursuing women younger than himself is not the path he wishes to tread, especially since he (allegedly) left his playboy days behind in Colombia in pursuit of a fresh start.

Yet, amidst his longing for Paloma and the current lack of romantic encounters, Javier finds it difficult to view things in this new perspective.

Always thinking with the wrong head. It’s his achilles heel.

“Javi. What’s your name, gorgeous?” He smirks flirtatiously, wiping his hands clean on the rag again and reaching out to take her hand in his in a handshake.

“Sloane.” She squeezes his hand gently before letting go, sultry smile still present on her countenance.

“Sloane, pleasure to meet you sweetheart.”

Paloma doesn’t like the nasty feeling she gets as she watches the interaction. It’s clear as day that they’re flirting, and honestly what did she expect out of her best friend, and now, charming acquaintance?

She’s well aware of his rapport in Colombia and the daily flirtatious behavior towards her. Paloma’s also aware of how willing Slo is to fuck anything in her line of vision. Yet, not being on the receiving end of the former is odd and has her feeling things she doesn’t want to feel.

What really has her skin crawling is the way he calls her sweetheart and introduces himself as Javi. He’s never told her to call him that.

Honestly, she probably would have felt more green if he had called her hermosa or any of the other Spanish names of endearment he’s reserved for her. 

Reserved for her? She sounds so possessive. 

Sloane giggles, “You’re the one who’s been followin’ her around all over town on daddy’s orders, huh? P, you didn’t tell me he was this hot. I woulda told you to count your blessings had I known.” They exchange a look that Paloma really can’t stand catch sight of, so she interjects.

“Sorry I lost track of time. Javier’s been lookin’ at Darla tryna fix her.” His name rolls of her tongue smoothly and this has a smug smile sprouting on his face. 

No cowboy or officer or Mr. Peña. Just Javier.

She gets up from her seat, sliding her sandals back on and leaving her belongings where they lay.

“There’s a part or two that’s missin’ but it shouldn’t be hard to get ‘em. Other than that, my work here is done.” He turns his back to the two girls and Sloane mouths over to her.

Oh my god?!

Paloma shoots her a look as Javier slams the hood of the car closed.

“Thank you, Javier, I really appreciate you doin’ this for me.” Her tone is genuine, despite the jealousy that had consumed her just then.

“No problem, cariño, I’ll let you know when I get my hands on those missin’ parts.”

“That sounds great! How much do I owe you for—” He cuts her off with a wave of his hand, collecting his things. 

“Don’t worry about it. M’doin’ this out of the kindness of my heart. S’what you do for a friend, right?” Speaking of hearts, hers skips a beat at being considered a friend and she feels her cheeks getting hot. Get a grip!

“Yeah, I guess so.” Paloma refrains from saying thank you again, not wanting to overdo it but she really is appreciative of his hard work.

Maybe she could find another way to show just how much she appreciates him doing this for her.

“Gabriel’s waitin’ for us out front, baby. We’re already runnin’ late.” Slo’s voice snaps her back to reality and she nods. Javier clears his throat and side steps her.

“Hope y’all have fun. Be safe, hermosa. Call me if you need anythin’.” Warmth spreads within her chest at his words, which would have annoyed her had they been coming from anyone else.

There has definitely been a shift in their dynamic, but she can’t quite place what it is. The bitterness she felt just then definitely a factor.

“Sloane, darling, hopefully I’ll see you ‘round town soon.” And just like that, the warmth is gone as he addresses her best friend, a wink thrown in her direction before he’s leaving the two girls in the shed.

“Okay, you have a lot to catch me up on. Frankly, I’m pissed you haven’t sent him in my direction. I mean, look at him. That’s a whole man right there, dear lord I was about to cum just by shakin’ his hand!” Paloma cringes but she doesn’t let it show, instead pulling excitement from their afternoon plans to uplift her mood.

“How about we get goin’ before Gabriel ditches our asses and we’re left walkin’ all the way down there.”

It’s not much longer after that that they make it to their destination and Paloma rejoices in the feeling of the cool water against her hot skin. She ditched her mini skirt along the way, currently sitting in a more shallow end, head falling back against her shoulders as she soaks in the sun.

She can hear Gabriel and Sloane splashing around nearby, and she contemplates joining them when the sound of her name gets her attention.

“Paloma, yeah?”

She head snaps in the direction of the voice and her breath gets stuck in her throat once she sees the source.

He stands tall, his figure slightly lanky but gracefully lean, his golden locks tousled. His eyes, a light shade of blue and captivating, hold a magnetic charm.

With a quick glance, she takes in the intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his skin. They seem to complement him perfectly, she muses, adding an extra layer of intrigue to his already handsome appearance.

And for the second time in such a short period of time— Paloma finds herself subtly squirming in her spot, a familiar sensation stirring within her legs.

This man, though, much more age appropriate and everything about him screams intriguing.

“Depends who’s askin’.” She can’t help but tease, one eye closed and her right hand coming up to block the sun from hitting her face directly. She’d forgotten her sunglasses at home and that annoyed the shit out of her once she realized.

“A friend of a friend. May I?” Gestures to the empty spot in the shallow water besides her and she nods, “You’re much prettier than I remember.”

Eyes follow him as she lowers himself besides her, their bodies softly brushing up against one another and she shivers slightly despite the blazing temperature, “We’ve met before? No way, I definitely would have remembered you…”

“Technically— no we haven’t met but… I was with Slo that day at the library. M’August.” He introduces himself and her stomach knots.

That’s when it hits her, a very vague recollection but a recollection of him nevertheless.

“Right, wow, that feels like forever ago.” She shakes her head, gently swaying her hand beneath the water. Suddenly, she feels much more nervous. She’d spent a good part of her week obsessing over his book and now he’s sitting right next to her while they’re both half naked.

His explicit poem comes to mind and she shakes that thought away quickly before her whole body turns into a bright shade of red.

“Time is a very tricky concept. You want these?” He conjures up a pair of shades and her brows raise at the action. “Noticed you’ve been scowlin’ ‘cause of the sunlight.”

A small smile spreads on her lips and she nods, he passes the accessory over to her and their fingers touch briefly against each other and she swears she feels fireworks.

Paloma really has to stop being such a helpless romantic. That never ends good for anyone involved.

“Thank you, August. You’re so observant.” She slips them on and lets out a small sigh, her head falling back between her shoulders.

She can feel his eyes all over her, but she doesn’t mind it. “Slo tells me you’re a fan of my work?”

She can’t help the laugh that slips from her lips and her eyes widen once she realizes that that wasn’t the most appropriate reaction for her to have. “That… came out really wrong. I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head at herself, “I did enjoy the Paragons of the Sacrificed book.” Is honest in her opinion, looking straight ahead at the glistening body of water to avoid further embarrassment by looking at him.

“Don’t apologize, I know Slo has a tendency to… over-exaggerate.” They shared an amused laugh at the expense of their friend but it’s all in good fun. She feels some of her nerves lessen.

“I am happy to hear that you enjoyed the book, though. S’the whole point why I wrote it. Sharin’ new things to new people.” He explains.

“New things, indeed. You cited a lot of notable publishings. Got me lookin’ more into the history of religion… I can’t help but feel a little ignorant, y’know? So much knowledge out there and I’m so… uneducated.” Paloma scoffs at herself, self depreciation at its finest.

“Oh, that just isn’t true, little dove.” The nickname has Paloma looking over at him; he’s gives her such a warm and charming look that sends the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. “Is it alright if I call you that? Seems very fitting… paloma is dove in Spanish.” A fact she’s very well aware of, since her mother reminded her about it all the time growing up.

“Yeah, I quite like that. No one’s ever really called me it before.” She replies almost sheepishly and he brings his large hand down to rest on her knee which has her breath hitching in her throat.

“Doves represent peace, love and purity … your parents sure did somethin’ namin’ you that.” His squeezes his grip on her knee briefly before pulling his hand back.

Pure? That’s possibly the last word she’d ever used to describe herself.

“As I was sayin’... throughout your life, others’ opinions have shaped your perspective. Eventually, you decide to see the world through your own eyes. Do some explorin’ of your own. It might take time to reach this realization, but what’s important is your willingness to learn and challenge conventional beliefs. So much knowledge out there, s’up to you to seek it and form your own opinions. S’way better than just followin’ what other people want you to think. Bit hypocritical comin’ from me considerin’ the group I lead but that’s different.”

Unbeknownst to Paloma, she finds herself captivated by every word that escapes his lips, hanging on to each syllable as if they were precious gems. His voice carries an irresistible attractiveness, his words akin to twinkling stars scattered across the vast expanse of a darkened sky.

He’s leading her to him… towards something in the same way constellations help sailors navigate the sea. 

They spend the rest of the day just… talking. He delves deeper into the intricacies of a group he belongs to—individuals adrift in the world, much like himself. Together, they’ve traveled through the majority of Texas, exchanging stories and delving into philosophical musings, united in their quest for deeper meaning and connection to something greater than themselves.

That leads Paloma to learn that he’s from Fayette, which is a few towns south, and that he, Sloane, and Gabriel all grew up in the same trailer park together. They’re the closest thing I have to a family is what August tells her and she feels sentimental as the statement tugs at her heartstrings.

She also learns that all three of them have a criminal past, which surprises her entirely and he explains to her that it was during their adolescence and it wasn’t anything major. Just stupid shit to pass the time.

She believes him without asking any further questions.

It’s not until they’re both getting bitten up by mosquitos that they decide it’s time to head back.

“It’s finally nice to put a face to the name, August. I hope I get to see you again… maybe read another one of your books?” Paloma bites her lip as they walk side by side.

“Likewise. Next time I’ll make sure to bring it to you personally. Don’t need Slo playin’ messenger and misconstruing our words.”

They make it back to Gabriel’s truck, he and Slo leaning against it and sharing a joint as they eye the duo. Paloma slips her skirt back on.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time. I need a shower, bad.” Sloane huffs, passing the joint to Paloma whom rejects it which gets an eye roll out of her friend and then handing it over to August who accepts it with no hesitation.

Paloma sees a motorcycle nearby and her curiosity gets the best of her, “S’that your ride, August?” She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking at him. He lustfully eyes the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders before nodding.

“Sure is. You ever been on one before?” Thick smoke emits from his lips and nose as he passes the joint back over to Gabriel who finishes it off wordlessly.

He’s so quiet, Paloma observes, but her attention returns to August.

“No. They look real cool, though.”

“You should let me take you home. Give you your first ride on one, little dove.” The offer is rather suggestive and she doesn’t mind it. She’s very interested in getting to know him better.

Paloma would have taken him up on it had she not been wearing the outfit that currently adorns her body. “Maybe next time.” She smiles at him softly and he nods, she looks away sheepishly as she blushes.

They share their goodbyes then she’s piling in to Gabriel’s truck after Sloane and on her way back home.

The day’s events echo through her thoughts as she gazes out of the window, Javier’s presence now intertwined with that of August’s. A sense of excitement bubbles within her, unfamiliar yet exhilarating—the attention she’s receiving is unlike anything she’s experienced before.

Two distinctly attractive and intriguing men have unexpectedly entered her life, each leaving an indelible mark. Rather than overcomplicating matters, Paloma resolves to embrace the moment and allow things to unfold naturally. It’s a thrilling prospect, injecting a sense of excitement into her life that she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

“Oh fuck.” Paloma curses as she sees her father’s vehicle parked by the front yard and him sitting out on the porch.

Looks like he’s gotten back from his hunting trip early. It is nearing ten o’clock and she knows she’s about to be interrogated on her whereabouts. 

She’s relieved that she hadn’t taken August up on his offer to bring her home on his motorcycle. Now that would have sent poor Romeo over the edge.

“Oh, baby, I feel for you.” Slo pats her thigh compassionately and Paloma groans. Dread creeps up her spine making her wither uncomfortably.

“He wasn’t supposed to be back ‘til tomorrow mornin’. Ugh, he’s so not goin’ to let this go.” The truck stops and both Gabriel and Slo flash her an understanding yet somber look.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘kay Slo?” The girl nods and they both hug before she’s exiting the vehicle and preparing herself for what’s to come. Paloma tugs her skirt down, noticing that it had ridden up much higher than what was appropriate. 

“Where the hell have you been, girl?” He asks once she’s close enough to survey him. He’s drinking, that’s never a good sign.

“We went out by the creek and—”

“The creek? With who? At this time of night? Paloma, how can you be so reckless. Especially with what the hell has been goin’ on around here?!”

Anger contorts her features, her expression tightening with indignation as he addresses her as though she were a wayward teenager, rather than a capable woman out in the company of her friends.

“And dressed like that.” The tone in his voice makes something within her snap and she crosses her arm with attitude, getting defensive.

“Like what? I was by the water and I’m wearin’ a bathin’ suit. S’that illegal now?” Paloma is so ready to go inside, shower, and get in her bed.

“Is this what you do when I’m not around? Sneakin’ off lookin’ for trouble in the dead of night?”

“It’s only ten and I really didn’t expect to stay out this long. I got preoccupied. Why are you makin’ such a big deal outta this?” She defends herself and it’s ridiculous, really, that she even has to.

He doesn’t say anything else and she just rolls her eyes. “I’m goin’ inside.” And that’s exactly what she does, walking right past him and indoors where she intends to take a very long, hot shower to help her forget about this spat of theirs.

Their arguments follow a familiar pattern: he erupts with emotion, then retreats into silence. Occasionally, he offers apologies, while other times, they linger unspoken. Paloma, however, is well-versed in navigating her father’s dramatic outbursts, having grown accustomed to them over time. It’s not the theatrics that trouble her; rather, it’s enduring it that proves challenging.

The shower runs while she takes a good, long look at herself in the mirror. 

Paloma finds herself approaching a crucial juncture, feeling increasingly prepared to confront her father in a heart-to-heart conversation. This discussion, she knows, will culminate in her revealing her decision to leave town and prioritize her own needs for once. While the thought of causing her father pain weighs heavily on her heart, she recognizes the necessity of taking this step in order to forge her own path in her life.

The steam rises from the hot water, gradually filling the room with its thick, swirling embrace. Paloma’s reflection blurs and fades amidst the steam, prompting her to shed her clothes. With each layer discarded, she feels a sense of liberation, a moment of vulnerability before she finally steps into the welcoming cascade of the shower.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Eleutherophobia Deleted Scene

@eomund42 #might have to post as a DVD extra or whatever  

Yes please!

[This fragment was originally part of Chapter 6 of How I Live Now.  I got rid of it because a) the conversation around Jake’s table was getting too long, b) the tone doesn’t work given how the chapter opens, and c) I accidentally left Rachel and Effilit unsupervised in the yeerk pool, so I needed to retcon that the Tobys were guarding her while everyone else was at the house.]

“Food?  They had enough kandrona for years.”

“Not the yeerks, the hosts!”  I stood up, pacing as I talked.  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spotted it before.  “The Blade ship only had space for a few months’ worth of food storage, and I know that at least some of that was taken up with bark for hork-bajir or taxxon meat for taxxons.”

Marco made a gagging noise which I ignored.

“Visser Seventeen didn't bother restocking those stores or even checking them.  Humans are omnivores, that’s a big part of what makes us so useful,” I continued, “and the yeerks always assumed that they could feed a human body just about anything that didn’t poison it and it would keep going.”  I turned around, making eye contact with Eva.  She was nodding slowly.  “But what if that’s not the case?  What if they ran through the human food supply they had on board and couldn’t find any alternatives that had all the vitamins or amino acids or whatever that a human body needs?”

“They really don’t know as much about humans as they think they do.”  Eva offered me a tight little smile.  “Edriss wrote up most of the intel they have on us and... Well.  Edriss wasn’t a disinterested party, given that her life depended on her ability to convince the Council that humans were worth the Empire’s time.”

“That would explain why the Blade ship hasn’t been back sooner,” I said, resting both hands on the back of the empty chair.  “They’ve probably been hopping around between planets this entire time searching for a plant or animal source that’s close enough to Earth food.”

“Until they got desperate enough to come back here,” Cassie said.

I nodded.  “Humans can digest just about anything, but that doesn’t mean they can live off it indefinitely.  The yeerks probably found a few partial food sources, and they might have bought themselves some time by forcing one of the hosts to morph a large animal, become a nothlit, and then—”

Marco made his stop-talking-about-cannibalism gagging noise again, this time louder.

“Anyway,” I said, conceding the point this time.  “Maybe there’s no vitamin K in the universe in a form humans can use.  Maybe there’s no calcium.  I don’t know, but whatever it is they’re missing, they’d get desperate enough and have to come back here.”

“So this is a quick trip.  A grab and go.”  Cassie exchanged a glance with Jake.

“Which means that if Rachel doesn’t come back within a few hours they’ll probably leave without her,” Jake concluded.

“And that brings us back to Tom’s original point,” Eva said.  “We need to figure out where the rest of them are hiding.  Immediately.”

<Rachel can tell us right now if we figure out a way to get that thing out of her head,> Tobias pointed out.

Having arrived firmly back at square one, we all sat there in frustrated silence for several seconds.

“Could you contact your illusionist?” Eva said.  “Make, I don't know, a hologram vanarx to threaten it with?”

I glanced over at her.  That wasn’t a bad idea.

“Illusionist?” Marco said.  “What illusionist?”

“Your person who makes the holograms,” I said impatiently.

“We don’t have a person who makes holograms.”  Marco glanced at Jake, who gave a slight nod.  “I mean, maybe if Ax-man asked the Dome ship nicely they’d be willing to whip something up, but that’d take too long.”

Eva leveled a long, unamused stare at Marco.  “I may have been born at night, querido, but I wasn’t born last night.”

Marco looked away, shoulders hunching.

“Eva,” Jake said.  “Please trust us.  We’re telling the truth that we don’t have an illusionist.”

“I know perfectly well that you six did not whip up an entire fake hork-bajir valley in less than three hours using parts you found at Radio Shack,” she said flatly.  “Humans still don't have that kind of technology.  Probably not the andalites either.  So.  Who helped you?”

“Technically...” Ax said.  “Eck.  Nick.  Lally.”  He trailed off.  That appeared to be all he was going to say on the subject.

I looked at Eva.  Eva looked at me.  We were adults, I reminded myself, in a room full of kids.  There was no need to bristle with defensiveness, no need to feel like the only two losers out of the loop.

“You could make a hologram on that scale, with that level of sophistication, right now?” Eva said to Ax.

And now none of the Animorphs were looking at her.

<Those were special circumstances,> Tobias mumbled.

“And the current situation doesn't count as special circumstances?” I looked slowly around at each of them.  Jake wouldn't meet my eyes, but Marco leveled me with a hard, defiant stare.

<No, just…>

“You just can’t have the zombies knowing about it?” I asked.

Cassie stiffened.

Jake held up both hands in a placating gesture, looking between me and Eva.  “It isn’t possible, okay?  So leave it.”

I shoved forward to brace both hands on the tabletop.  At least three of them flinched.  “Just like it’s not possible for you to pull an exact copy of Cassie out of your collective asses?  Cut it and it’d bleed, but scan it for life forms and it’d pop up as inorganic.  Hang onto it for over two hours and it wouldn’t demorph, but take your eyes off it for a second and—”  I snapped my fingers.  “It’d disappear into thin air.  You mind telling me how you pulled that one off?”

There was a long silence.  Tobias had developed an apparent fascination with straightening his own feathers.  Cassie just looked annoyed with me.

“Didn’t think I’d notice that, did you?” I asked them, voice flat.

“To be honest?” Marco said.  “No, we didn’t.”

“It's not our secret to tell,” Cassie blurted. “We swear.”

Marco glanced at Jake again.  Jake looked at Cassie, who looked from Tobias to Ax and then back to Jake.  Jake looked back at Marco.

“Since Tom and I are clearly the only ones who give a damn about actually helping Rachel,” Eva said, “perhaps it would be best if we left the room.”

“Chee!” Marco shouted.

We all looked at him.

“That's whose hologram tech we were using,” he said. “The chee.”

It was progress, anyway.  “What’s a chee?” I said.

Jake muttered something about there not being time for all this, but looked up at me and said “There was this species called the pemalites.”

“Yeah, everybody knows about pemalites.”  I frowned.  “Wait, you’re telling me they’re not extinct?”

“They are,” Jake said.  “But they built robotic companions before they died.  And those companions, those chee, were specifically designed to look and sound and even feel like anything they wanted.  The chee can’t commit violence, not even to save a life.  But, yeah, they can make a copy of Cassie — or the hork-bajir valley — on command.”

“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” Cassie said.  “Their existence depends on their secrecy.”

I shrugged.  “I so do not care that the pemalites left behind a bunch of sex bots, and don’t think anyone else will either.  Can they help us?”

“Sex bots?  Sex bots?” Marco spluttered, twisting around to glare at me.  “They're not sex bots, you absolute sixth-grader.”

“’Chee’ literally just means ‘friend,’” Cassie said.

“And you can program them to look like anyone you want because…?” I raised my eyebrows.

Cassie opened her mouth halfway, and left it open.

“Jake?” Marco said imploringly.  “Tell me the chee aren’t sex bots.”

Jake patted Marco on the arm.  “The chee aren’t sex bots.”

“See?” Marco said to me.  “You are a disgusting human being, and oughta be ashamed to open your mouth.”

“Always am,” I said, smiling angelically.

<Anyway, it’s a moot point.>  Tobias glared at me.  <The chee wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire, even if we could contact them.  Which we can’t.>

“Why, what happened?” I asked.  

Jake suddenly became fascinated with the grain of the tabletop in front of him.  Cassie made a noise of annoyance in the back of her throat, also looking away.

“He was fine,” Marco said loudly.  “Jake did nothing wrong.”

“Who was fine?” Eva asked.

“No one!”  Marco waved his hands.  “I mean everyone!  Everyone was fine.  So don’t worry about it.”

I made eye contact with Eva.  Yep, right back to the feeling we were the nerds being tolerated by the cool kids’ table but not allowed in on the joke.

“Tobias is right,” Cassie said.  “We’re wasting time with this discussion.  The chee are well-hidden enough that we couldn’t find them if we tried.  And even if we did they wouldn’t help.”

“You can’t even ask,” Eva said tiredly.  “You don’t think it would be worth trying to ask for help.”

“They can look like anyone.”  Marco did look genuinely apologetic now.  “Anything.  Trees, rocks, the wall behind them.  They don’t want to be found, and so we’re never going to find them again.”

“Okay.”  Jake ran a hand over his face.  “Okay.  An illusion is a dead end.  We’re on the right track, though.  How else could we get a, um, a yeerk-eating-thing?”

“Varanx,” I provided.  “And we even if we had one for real, it’d just eat Rachel’s brain right along with the yeerk.”

“So that idea’s a bust, but…”  Jake looked around the table.  “But…”

<Is there another way to get it out by force?> Tobias threw in.  <Brain surgery, something like that.>

I winced.  I knew of 10 or 12 people who’d had yeerks removed by force.  Two had survived.  One was in a vegetative state, and the other was, well... Spacey Gervais.  Who lived up to his name.

“Is there anyone among our allies qualified to perform brain surgery?”  Ax looked at Jake.  “Your father, perhaps?”  Then he twisted to look at Cassie.  “Or yours?”

“Not on a human,” Cassie said, even as Jake shook his head.

“That’s also likely to be a dead end.”  Eva was leaning more heavily against the wall, but glared at me when I tried to nudge my empty chair over to her.  “Human brains are strange, and poorly understood by humans and yeerks alike.”

<Rachel’s a morpher.>  Tobias looked from Eva back to Cassie.  <She can heal from any amount of damage that doesn’t kill her instantly.>

“Or leave her comatose,” Cassie said.  “Or otherwise unable to make a mental image of an elephant and then will her body to become that.  And I don’t think Ben Carson himself could get an entire yeerk loose without taking apart most of the host brain as well.”

“No surgery.”  Jake rested both hands on the table, closing the discussion.  “No varanx, real or imaginary.  It seems like we keep coming back to persuasion as the best way to get it out.”

I hated persuasion.  Because I had an idea for persuasion, and I was going to pitch it to the group when hell froze over.

Hell froze over… or Rachel’s life was on the line.

I sighed.  “Yeah.  Fine.  I’ll do it.”

Cassie looked up at me.  “Do what?”

[toomanystars-jpg]

THIS IS A JOKE DON"T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY YOU FREAKS

TW: jerma, cannabalism, murder

ok so i wrote a short fiction piece about jerma being a cannibal and i got some responses asking me to post it, so here we are. I would love nothing more than to laugh along with you all about how ridiculous this concept is, especially since he's made bits about it before. i'll tell you something super important: JERMA IS NOT A CANNIBAL AND THIS IS FICTION. THIS IS NOT REAL.

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

The Confession of A Cannibal

Hello. My name is Jeremy. I’m a psycho, or that’s what people would call me if they read this. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I ordered exotic meat online. I didn’t know what it was, but it tasted like nothing I had ever had before. It was like chicken, but richer in flavour. The warmth as I tore the meat from the ribs settled in my stomach as any warm meat would. It felt like I was always meant to consume this meat of unknown origin. I got hooked on it; it was amazing. I knew I needed more. The meat became my personal heroin; making me suffer from intense withdrawals that shook me, if not physically, certainly mentally. I couldn’t think straight without it. I never knew food cravings could be like this. Truly debilitating. In a moment of weakness I ordered more meat from the site. I wanted to confirm what I had been eating, to know what had its claws around my neck; and this time it was a solely human feature: an arm. 

The package came in, and low and behold, the arm had a hand, ligaments, tendons, bones, and joints; everything but skin. It was slimy, and hard to hold. The only thing I could think of was how good it would taste fresh out of the oven. I cut off the hand; it crunched under the pressure of my cleaver. The sharpness of the blade made the fileting easy. The blade glided across the bones, the meat slapped the bottom of my empty bowl. I seasoned the meat and stuck it in the oven. I was so excited that I sat on the floor in front of the oven while it cooked. The cold hardwood flooring under my palms and feet was not enough for me to come to my senses and forget the amazing taste of human meat. I loved it with all my heart, more than I had ever loved anything before. When it was thoroughly cooked, I cut the cooked bicep into sizable chunks and laid it out over rice. I poured the juices over it too. I stored the rest in containers and placed them in a stack in my nearly empty fridge. The meat was soft and juicy. The rice soaked in the oily juice was heavenly; what they would’ve served in heaven if I had anything to say about it. I was so enthralled that I invited a friend over to share it with me.

My friend arrived after a long day of work, and he was starving. I dumped some rice down onto the plate, gathered extra pieces of the arm that I hadn’t eaten, poured on the juices, and gave it to my friend. After that, I don’t remember anything. I must have black out, because everything is blank. The next thing I remember is kneeling over my dead friend, my pants soaked with his blood. There was a bullet hole in his forehead, and a pistol next to me. Then I had a brilliant thought: Human meat was good, but what could be better than the freshest it could possibly be?

I grabbed my friend and carried him back into the kitchen. His dead weight made me realize just how much delicious muscle my friend had on him. I struggled to lift him up onto the counter, his limp body making him increasingly harder to maneuver. I cut off his clothes, but kept his underwear on. I wasn’t about to rid him of his dignity, nor was I quite ready for the most exotic meat the human body had to offer. I cut off his legs first. Blood got everywhere. It spewed and sprayed from his stumps, filling the air with the smell of blood. It covered my floor, which infuriated me. His arms went next. Again, blood covered the counter and the floor, as his limp arms fell from his torso. I wanted his ribs. I grabbed a garbage bag and cut him open. I began dumping out organs until nothing remained but his empty torso. I don’t know why, but I started salivating. I cut below the ribs and took his head off. I threw the excess in the bag. I cut off his hands and feet, I skinned all the parts, I took the meat off the bones. It took three garbage bags, but all evidence of him was in garbage bags, ready for the garbage truck to take away my friend’s remains. I cut up all the pieces, seasoned the meat thoroughly, shoved most of it in my freezer, and put some in the oven. I cleaned up the blood while it cooked. Wonderfully delicious smells of my friend’s body filling my small home, and I wish it could’ve stayed in my nose forever.  By the time the meat was done cooking, my living room and kitchen was spotless. The smell was now mixed with chemicals, which ruined my appetite. There was nothing that could’ve meant he was here, other than the mountain of digital evidence against me. I’m scrawling this while in bed with a full stomach. I know people are going to be looking for him, but I have no regrets. I feel no remorse. He was delicious.

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

hope you enjoyed my attempt at writing. if you're at all interested, i wrote this for school and i just wanted to write about jerma, and i remembered the "human meat in the fridge" meme. I'm honestly expecting some hate, because this is truly deranged. I read it out to my roommates and one of them was genuinely concerned for me. I feel like this should go unsaid, i am not a cannibal, i have though watched a lot of true crime so i know lots about the mindset of criminals, especially murderers (moidewers). i hope you have a wonderful day, stay safe, and you're welcome for making the most deranged thing you've read all day.

[banbuvssummerhome]

Lostboy.EXE

On the internet, there exists multiple levels depending on the depravity and exclusivity of certain cites, services and content. The surface web, the dark web, and the deep web. The surface web is the level you’re on right now, with things like Google, Yahoo, Facebook, etc. 

The deep web is stuff that’s below the surface, stuff that’s hidden from the public eye like government cites. 

And the dark web is what it says on the tin. From counterfeit items, luxury drugs to the most depraved content one can find from child sexual abuse to cannibalism to hitmen. Or luxury pickles. It’s a mixed bag.

Today we have a game that’s been rumored to originate from such a place, Lostboy.EXE. Look, it’s cliche, but we gotta start off with the classics.

I’m sure I don’t need to introduce 4chan, it’s the edgy and lawless image board that birthed Anonymous as well as several iconic memes, the posterchild of online degeneracy. But on August 22nd, 2012, someone would unintentionally drop what I can only describe as a bomb onto the message board. An anonymous user would upload a Mediafire link to a game they’d made for the /v/ and /x/ boards, intriguing the other anons. It was some innocent fun, all things considered. 

The game consisted of a single empty maze with several images of babies and religious imagery pertaining to demonic entities, you know, the usual for horror indie games. It doesn’t take a lot to unsettle someone. Just imply crimes against children and you got a free ticket to WTF-land. But otherwise it was a pretty boring game, so people in the board complained as per usual.

Imagine this: you’re the average 4chan user who just downloaded a shit game full of creepy ass imagery yet no gameplay. Just full of weird images of infants and satanic shit, you feel that you’ve seen either an edgy kid’s attempt at a game or something you shouldn’t have seen. Maybe if you played for longer you would’ve seen something truly fucked ala Sad Satan. You go to the message board where you found the link and try to figure out what the fuck you just walked into.

And then you see your full name, address, and phone number posted in that very thread. 

You see, what many users didn’t realize at first glance was that there were not one, but two links to the game, one of which being a fake malware version of the game that gave the second uploader remote access to the computers of whoever was unlucky enough to fall for the dupe. This way the anon who made the dupe was able to get their personal information and leak it into the /v/ and /x/ threads on the game. People got paranoid after this was found out–who knew what the hacker did with their computers, they could’ve taken pictures through their webcams or worse, filled their computers with illegal child sexual abuse material. Because 4chan is fucked like that. It wasn’t like the site was unfamiliar with csam being leaked onto their site, but some people weren’t as degenerate and didn’t want to be arrested for what was essentially a 2/10 indie horror. Admins would later delete the threads and put up a warning for users to not download any content found on 4chan.

It wouldn’t be until 2023 that the alleged creator of the original safe version of Lostboy.EXE was even discovered, a Twitter user by the name of rob_is_an_idiot, who was interviewed by the French Youtuber known as Feldup. Unfortunately we do not know what the fuck was said in the interview as we are not French and refuse to learn French. But we will link to the interview, of course.

Alongside this, Rob would make a Twitter post about the subject:

“I made lostboy.exe back in 2012 and shared it with 4chan's /v/ board, it was a gamemaker 7 tutorial reskinned. There was never any other version. The "virus lostboy.exe" was just a RAT virus, not the game. They simply renamed their exe to lostboy.exe.”

While the original link still exists, I highly discourage downloading the game unless you’ve got a good antivirus or lawyer. We don’t wanna accidentally distribute “cheese pizza” or viruses here, but if you wanna seek out Lostboy.EXE that’s your prerogative, not ours. But yeah, that’s the story of Lostboy.EXE as it stands–a simple game made for shits and giggles turned into a backdoor for malicious activity and an internet urban legend that until now has been left unsolved. The moral of the story? Don’t download shit from 4chan.

Ever.

Developer Interview: « lostboy.exe » le JEU PERDU de 4chan - Findings HS

[wutheringmights]

CTB Scrap - Miscellaneous Engineer Moments

Both of these scenes are too short to post alone. They are not from the same chapter, but they both feature the engineer.

Note: these are an unedited scraps, so the writing may not be up to snuff. Also, everything include was deleted for a reason, so please do not take it as canon to CTB.

---

Scene #1: Warriors Dreams of the Engineer

This is from the fever dreams sequence in chapter 18. In the final draft, Warriors dreams that the engineer turned into a dog that tries to eat him. Originally, I wanted to reverse to happen, minus the dog.

Why? Eh, I like cannibalism.

TW: Cannibalism

“Agh!” The engineer pressed his hands into his face. When he lowered them, a gash split him asunder, one so deep that Warriors could see the bone between the gush of blood. The engineer stared at the red on his hands before look up and seeing Warriors stare at him.

He laughed, his smile such a wonderful thing to gaze upon. “You really did all this?”

“Yes.”

The engineer laughed again. “You could have just asked. I’d given it.” He held out his hand. “Here.”

Warriors took his hand, relishing in the familiar comfort of the engineer’s grasp.

“You can do whatever you want with me,” the engineer said.

Warriors turned his hand over and bit into his wrist. Warm iron filled his mouth.

The engineer frowned. Gray eyes turned cold. “I’m going to kill you,” he said, as blood flooded Warriors’s mouth. “I’m going to fucking kill you—”

---

Scene #2: The Engineer's Speech

This was going to be part of the build up to the duel in chapter 19. When Link tries to convince the engineer to help him in the tent, the engineer was originally going to have a speech where he explained his perspective.

I cut this because it gave away far too much, but it was a painful cut. Hopefully, some of this will make its way back into the story.

“It’s the only way,” Link said. “Please, let me prove myself. Just trust me.”

“I don’t.” The noise the engineer made could have been called a laugh if it wasn’t so strained. “I don’t want to. It’s just... this is real. Everything is so fuzzy. I don’t remember my room, what’s on the walls. Or Nico’s songs, what the words were.” Somehow, his grip on Link’s wrist grew even tighter. “I studied so hard to be an engineer. I’m the world’s youngest. I’m so smart, but I don’t think my hands remember what the controls were. I don’t even remember what Zelda sounds like.”

“Instead,” the engineer said. “You’re there. In every crevice, no matter where I look, I’ve got you memorized. The child too. In everything I do, you’re both there, inside and out. I didn’t let it happen. I just woke-up, and I was someone else, all without me realizing.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “I almost ran away. I didn’t plan it. I just wanted to leave. This was months ago—in the spring. I’d just started walking. And I’d found a town. I was going to run there and never look back. Then I remembered the child. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him behind. I was so mad at you too, but I remembered you and I thought that maybe if I stayed, you would get better. You will be my friend again. You’ll…”

As he spoke, his hand traveled down his face, along his jaw until it rested on his throat. “You’re an asshole,” he said. “And I’m the fucking idiot you got dangling on a rope.”

Link didn’t know if there was anything to be said to all that. He started to drop his hand, but thought better about it. “Engineer—”

“Why should I trust you?” the engineer demanded. “After all this, give me one good reason.”

[groovesnjams]

1 / 50

"dazies" by yeule

DV:

Layered and allusive, "dazies" is one of the densest songs - on one of the most intense and elaborate albums - that I heard all year. It's a song concerned with trans identity and physicality and cannibalism (among other things.) These are, coincidentally and unintentionally, qualities it shares with last year's #1 song, Ethel Cain's "American Teenager", something that only registered for me about halfway through writing this year's posts but which is impossible to ignore now that I have. What is going on with transness and cannibalism in the 2020s? And what does it mean that these two artists - not frequently mentioned together - have both made that connection and both delivered the most unforgettable visions of the past two years? I am almost certainly not the person most qualified to answer these questions! But since as far as I can tell I'm the only one asking them, here we go: I would say that the current ascension of fascism and accompanying anti-trans movement has created a sort of pressure cooker environment that's intensifying connections that might otherwise be subtextual. So we're seeing similar themes bubble up more frequently than they otherwise might; Ethel Cain joked, "Funny, I never considered myself tough" and now yeule coos, "Violently biting off the flesh/ Of your own/ Of your own/ Body."

This is not exactly the same, to be clear: one of these characters has been murdered and the other is eating themselves alive. Both are fucked but consent and bodily autonomy only apply to the second. Conceptually, though, they're operating on the same frequency, delving in the same vein of ore. They're about the body as fuel, as substance and sustenance. And to be fair, all humans are worm food in the end! But transness - the sense that on whatever level our physical or perceived self isn't right - puts this fact on the surface; trans people are both the worms and the wormfood, consuming the self to become it. And this must happen within an era where the world - and more specifically, the people with power - hate trans people, and where trans people must try to simply exist knowing this fact, hating that they know it, and either letting it consume them or consuming themselves first. Violence is a form of control, and the threat of violence is one which trans people must carve out an existence under, and violence toward the self is one of the last refuges when nothing else feels controllable. (This feels uncomfortably pro-self-harm or pro-ana so let me caveat that there is a difference between bad things and good ones, and trans affirmation is firmly in the latter category.)

The self must perish so that it can be remade, and as we know, destruction is just another form of creation. So if consumption is destruction then self-consumption is simply self-creation. This post is starting to both spiral into itself and get away from me, so let's consider it a rough draft to be rewritten if this theme continues to find a home in future songs; destruction and creation never end; the point is that "daizies" was the richest and most rewarding and enveloping song I heard all year. Anyway. When yeule sings, "Violently biting off the flesh of your own/ Of your own/ Body" I'm pretty sure they mean something like all of this. And when those guitars howl and shriek I'm pretty sure that's what it feels like, too.

MG:

"dazies" (and all of tortured, beautiful softscars) is best homage to the Smashing Pumpkins we got this year, maybe ever! As someone who grew up relating hard to the original, what made the Pumpkins (and Billy, specifically -- I won’t apologize for him except to say that everything he does, everything, makes sense when you read the story of his life) so special was that they were openly hurting. It wasn’t under a slick veneer, it wasn’t intellectual, it wasn’t cool at all. It was just sobbing and screaming at the same time, and often there was a lot of prettiness in this painful offering. It's what made them acutely embarrassing, as well. I bought and sold Siamese Dream more times than I can remember; as soon as I accepted that I liked that record and that, yeah, I felt those ways and did those things and always cried to “Mayonnaise” I immediately felt a whiplash effect of self-rejection. Those were bad feelings, bad things, stop crying about wanting to be you. And it goes on! That psychic rubble falls to dust in the background of my mind but I no longer pretend to be someone who doesn’t love Siamese Dream. And I think yeule, and the broader acceptance and promotion of yeule as, like, not a joke, not something where we say “despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage HA HA HA,” you know, laughing at someone’s pain, suggests that no one has to pretend to not love Siamese Dream anymore. I think that’s great, that’s really beautiful. I hope that wave of acceptance extends and swells and begins to encompass the meaningful and not just the petty differences of taste and opinion.

yeule sings of “cries and cries and cries,” of hurting their body as a proxy for joy, of their “sick heart, sick mind” and it feels like some cycle is complete. The ouroboros is also an example of self-consumption and completed cycles, but this particular ouroboros feels more like running out of thread in a weaving, another piece is carefully attached and the project continues. The snake of unbearable sadness coils atop itself instead of taking its tail in its mouth. The old stories end and the new ones are joined to their endings through recognition of ourselves in the other. Today the kids can take comfort in yeule, a more perfect avatar for not being ok.

[tenebris-lux]

Trigger Warning: discussion of the mutilation of human corpses for cannibalism, and mentions murder and kidnapping. If anyone knows of better trigger/content warnings for the tags, please let me know. This post is pretty gross and has some disturbing questions, so turn away if these topics bother you.

Sweeney Todd kills people, then drops their bodies down the chute. Mrs. Lovett then has the task of making the bodies edible. She grinds the meat herself, cooks it, makes all the extra ingredients and creates these pies that taste SO good, her business shoots through the roof. All by herself. Does she also debone them? Does she use the organs as other kinds of dishes? How long does one full-grown person take and how many pies are they? How much can be used compared to how much has to be thrown out? It just seems like a LOT of work for one person to do.

And what if Todd has a really good business day? How long before the meat starts to go bad? They still have to get rid of the body somehow.

The original story, The String of Pearls, covers the workload a bit, because (spoilers from here on) Lovett would trick some guy looking for work and he’d have to help her or die while trapped. In the musical, she doesn’t get any help until she puts Tobias down there, but her purpose for doing that wasn’t for extra help, it was because he was getting too suspicious.

Also in the book, Todd & Lovett were doing it to get a shit-ton of money, and they’d been doing it for a while. It was purely a business relationship, and it eventually took its toll on Lovett. She became an alcoholic, and wanted to be done with the whole thing and move to another country away from Todd. Apparently she was fine with the murdering and making money off utilizing the bodies, but over time it drained her. There’s a possible argument there about how one person takes a life, but the other mangles the remains, and the question of which one can fuck you up more and how.

[random-bi-writer]

Secrets of the Maw Opinions and Theories

https://random-bi-writer.tumblr.com/post/703035769296683008/i-do-not-have-the-courage-to-play-horror-games

Check the Link first.

I’m not sure how long this post will be so I’ll just use those keep reading buttons just in case.

I know that it’s stupid to make theories only about the first game and this one when there are sequels but this is just for fun.

I have so many feelings after watching this game’s playthrough.

Opinions on Characters

1) The Runaway Kid (official name)/ Seven (fandom name)/ Sunday (the name I gave him) - okay first of. what the fuck. A horror game version of Frisk gets turned into a Nome? That is so messed up. I thought it was funny how Sunday just hugs random Nomes, but now...

2) Nomes - I have a different opinion of this paper guys now. God now I feel bad about the one that got eaten. I’m glad the developers made the choice of the player hugging them, they deserve it.

3) The Granny - Granny? What...THAT’S WHAT THAT WAS?! GOD, they just upgraded the nightmare fuel.

4) Shadow Kids - What are they? I’m not sure if they’re like the Nomes, maybe a different original species?

5) Six - I have a very different opinion on Six now thanks to context of THAT scene. It’s nothing that I think of her as a monster, it’ll make sense when you get to the theory section.

6) The Flashlight Girl - I’m not sure if this girl is dead or just decided to ditch her flashlight for some reason. I’m itching to know what happened to her.

Theories

1) Visions

This is the second time that a child woke up from a boss fight nightmare. I’m guessing that all children can somehow have future vision powers.

2) She doesn’t know

If I can come up to the conclusion that the Maw is a cannibal restaurant, then so does Six. That scene where she eat the Nome? She probably thinks that sausage is made from child flesh, which is fair, so she either has to choose from a child flesh or a random creature she’s never seen. If Six had known what the Nomes are, I’m pretty sure she would chosen the sausage.

This makes me think that despite her hunger disease, Six is still an innocent kid thrown into a terrifiying place and has no idea what the right decisions she should make to stay alive.

3) He’s still alive.

Sunday, or as you call him as Seven, is still alive and not the one who got eaten. Why? The ending of the first game. There was a Nome that just stared at Six leaving, it was so random.

If that Nome wasn’t him, why would the developers add that scene?

[lesbiansanemi]

Remember how at the end of part 1 of chainsaw man denji chopped makima into little bits and cooked her into various meals? Thought it was awesome she was like crying and begging "not like this" and denji did all that with no hesitation

Idk if your intention was to sound butthurt because I made a post about liking Makima because she was terrible… but you definitely sound butthurt that I made a post about liking Makima because she was terrible

This also feels vaguely like you’re just trying to deliberately reveal major spoilers as some sort of weird petty revenge, again, because someone said they liked “the bad fictional character.”

So 1. Grow up. Like for real? You don’t have to like her but at least learn to stay in your own damn lane

2. Now you just sound vaguely like you lack some reading comprehension because there was a lot more nuance going on with Makima’s death and Denji’s role in it and his feelings on it than “he felt no remorse”

Also yes, people can still like Makima knowing how awful she truly is because as I originally said, that’s the point, and you weirdos obsessed with making sure other fans hate her need to learn how engaging with media and taking part in discussions of media actually fucking works

Also desperately need you to understand you sent this to the “I think cannibalism is fun and sexy and romantic” blog. Do you know that. Do you understand that. My entire brand is writing gay enemies to lovers corruption arc demon slayer shit. I am not the guy to try and dissuade liking things because cannibalism was involved. Denji eating Makima was about how, even after everything, he still loved her too much to let her go. It wasn’t about hate. It was about his devotion to her winning out one last time despite everything she’d done

[stainlesssteellocust]

Rambling about fictional food. Again

Love the stuff about the alfar figuring out magic in prehistory, even before they learned proper speech

Just imagine them ripping open multiverse-spanning portals to find more berries and storing their food in Flintstones-ass temporal stasis grids it’s so funny

Being able to preserve your food with time-freezing is interesting, actually, especially when you consider how that might have affected other methods of food preservation. Yes you can make British-style jokes about them knocking over nations for spices, but it goes beyond that.

I wouldn’t be surprised if salting and smoking etc was originally done by slaves or other poor, marginalised alfar groups who weren’t able to use large amounts of mana. Slower, less reliable, ‘dirtier’ practices. Over the millennia the others would have noticed ‘huh that tastes good’ but it would still be a minor part of their cuisine for quite a while, so some of their stuff, especially low-quality snacks or rations, might be quite bland. This tracks: While she never mentions human food being better on average, First considers alfar time-stoppered military rations to be…not great, and is much happier eating a late night kebab while sober, which, er, wow lol.

Generally speaking I reckon the Host (or rather, the support structures they left behind to die) generated their own food, so mostly the stuff you can grow in a borderline-arctic nation…though considering greenhouses, biomodding and other forms of Literal Magic, who knows what they might have?

I have a vague thought that high-class alfar meals might be focused on minimally prepared and extremely fresh basic ingredients as a show of cleanliness and quality, with much of the flavour coming from sauces and condiments added at the eating stage. A steak that was time-frozen moments after being carved off the animal, still steaming from the beast’s body heat as it’s flung into a pan in front of you…the meat itself is unseasoned, or hit with salt and pepper etc moments before cooking, but the flavour comes from the multiple sauces and dips that are served along with it, which probably draw from alfar poor-people food roots somewhere way back in history.

I already figured they’d have slaves gather pure snow in winter to be magically preserved and used to make a shaved ice sort of thing as a summer dessert, it’s in one of the Cold Iron Bound drafts. Of course the elves are absolutely sophisticated enough to just freeze water in the summer, they just send the help to dodge monsters because they can. Absolute unhinged decadence.

Are there any strange holes in their knowledge? We know they don’t have paper, are some foods the same? Maybe, due to the preservation stuff mentioned above, they don’t really have cheese the way we do? In a cold European climate they probably did drink milk, but they might not have progressed that vital technology to the same degree as us. Cassie might look at blue cheese and be like “absolutely not that’s disgusting”, repulsed even though, as I said in a previous post, I’m not convinced she has a cannibalism taboo.

On the flipside, maybe they still have Silphium. They have a lot of extinct animals, after all. Cue Cassie badgering Alex to learn how to cook with Hing, since it’s the closest thing left. Poor guy. He doesn’t strike me as a kitchen natural but considering First finds cooking your own food to be actively bizarre, I think it’s probably going to be on him lol.

I reckon they have spices. Even in antiquity we were able to get some. Of course we don’t know what trade looks like on Alfheim (they want to call us Urukheim so) or how the Americas interact with Eurasia or anything, really. But the Morningstar Empire extends to Africa and into Russia, so they’ve got the grasp for it. And Cassie was ‘easy’ when they were talking Indian food IIRC, so I think she implicitly has some spice tolerance. Yeah not all Indian food is like that but it suggests she wasn’t limited by an inability to eat it.

…Maybe, considering their stoicism and hatred of emotional weakness, the elves one-upped each other by handling incredibly spicy food back home.

*cut to Cassie in a Thai restaurant, desperately maintaining a poker face while trying to convince Alex to swap dishes with her as if he can’t see the tears running down her face*

Alex: Look Cass I’m happy to walk through a sketchy portal with you, I’ll kill your family for you, I’ll eat and shoot and beat people to death for your sake, but you chose the spice level and you’re going to have to live with that decision

and yeah they totally eat their enemies hearts and stuff too

[notrailers]

Back with another multi-review post as I saw these films, but didn’t think they needed their own dedicated review because of the content of the film or because I didn’t find it compelling enough to warrant it’s own post.

First up is Glass Onion. This film was incredible, but because it’s a murder mystery, I believe it’s better to go in as blind as possible and let it wash over you. What I will say is that this the best theater experience I had all year. Luckily, I was able to see it during its one week theater run and I think I enjoyed it more because of that. This took the premise of Knives Out and bought in to the wackiness of the characters and made it bigger. While Knives Out is a smaller, intimate film, the novelty of the concept still puts it ahead of Glass Onion. With that being said, the second film buying all the way in to Daniel Craig’s Benoit Blanc and with him at the helm there’s no reason this series can’t extend to 7 or 8 entries. This is a great family film night murder mystery and I couldn’t recommend it more.

Next is Bones and All. I wanted to like this, but I was almost ready to walk out. Not because it’s about cannibalism, that aspect actually wasn’t gruesome enough, but because I was so bored. There was no chemistry between Timothee Chalamet and Taylor Russell and that is what this movie is dependent on. The best character is Sully, another cannibal, but he disappears for a large chunk of the movie which is a major flaw in the screenplay and/or the book. This film is either too grossed to be enjoyed by standard YA romance flicks or not gross enough to be liked by horror enthusiasts. It gets caught in the middle and is all the worse off because of it.

Third up is Violent Night. This movie was not good by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a fun, violent (hence the title), action movie. The plot is thin and there’s not much to spoil. You really spend about two hours watching David Harbour kill bad guys in various Christmas themed fashions. I don’t know how this movie will age, if it will be remembered at all, or if it’ll have annual runs on cable networks, but it’s definitely worth the watch.

Finally, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio. I typically don’t comment on streaming exclusive films because they’re more accessible than a film that is only in theaters, but GDT’s Pinocchio (and I guess Glass Onion too) is the exception because it was otherworldly. This is the best animated film of 2022 and I do not think it’s particularly close. He reimagined the story, expounded on the heartbreak that Geppetto felt, and set it in fascist Italy. He was allowed more liberty than Disney’s version earlier in the year and was not beholden to the original cartoon. Mix all that in with the fact this was stop-motion filmmaking and you’ve got yourself a masterpiece.