#you're impossibility blasphemous

[m4g0rtz]

Today's polish is much greater than the sum of it's parts. It's a black base with holo flakes and a blue shimmer and yet somehow all together it was so pretty and unique! Sometimes the Holo would be so twinkly and other times that blue shimmer would completely take over my nails. I really liked it matte too! This is You're Impossibly Blasphemous from Bees Knees Lacquer.

[octuscle]

Hotel room: filthy chav tf

It was an imposition. An absolute imposition. Having to spend the night in a youth hostel was unbelievable. But in a triple room? Without your own bathroom? Using a communal shower room? That had to be a joke. Yes, his company had to cut costs. There was a new travel policy that banned five-star hotels and business class flights. All well and good. But a youth hostel?!?!?!?!! He called the travel agency and insulted his colleague in the worst possible way. She just replied dryly that everything else was fully booked because of the trade fair and that she had even written Alexander an e-mail asking if the booking was okay. And he had replied with a curt "yes". Unfortunately, there was nothing more she could do, he was still on the waiting list for two hotels. But if there was no answer by now…

Alexander moved into his room. It smelled like a lad's changing room in a community school on a council estate. Of course, he had no idea what it smelled like. But that's how he imagined the stench. Without greeting or acknowledging the teenager lying on the bed playing with his cell phone, Alexander went to the window and pulled it open. "Oi, did someone crap in yer head, mate? Shut that window, innit?" the chav yelled at him. "I don't understand a word you're saying," Alexander replied and began to unpack his suitcase. I don't know how the chav could live like this, he thought to himself. He needed order. He then changed into his bedding, which he saw as a further humiliation, and lay down on the bed. The chav was listening to music so loud that Alexander could clearly hear the bass. He found it more than annoying. But he tried to ignore it. He put on his headset and called his fiancée. Alexander assumed that the chav lying in the bed above him couldn't hear anything, as loud as he was listening to music. So he complained without a care in the world and blasphemed about the young man with the disturbed relationship to personal hygiene and the impossible haircut. "Honey, I have to stop, I have to get out of here and have lunch somewhere civilized." Alexander ended his phone call. He looked up. And he was looking at a dirty white sock.

"Oi, I'm Callum, but me mates call me Cal. So you call me Callum. Did ya just say my smell's botherin' ya? I thought posh gits like you love the scent of real man's feet." Alexander almost threw up. Without saying anything, he jumped up, grabbed his coat and left the room. He had a lunch date with an old school friend at a trendy steak restaurant. It was supposed to distract him and save the evening as much as possible. As he stood in the subway, he wondered what the devil had possessed him not to take a cab. It smelled almost as bad here as in his hotel room. Suddenly he realized that the smell was coming from his armpits. Damn, had he forgotten the deodorant this morning? The journey seemed like an eternity. People wrinkled their noses. My God, that was embarrassing. In the restaurant, he went to the toilet first, wet a towel, took off his shirt and jacket and wiped his armpits. In the stress, he didn't even notice that instead of a white microfiber undershirt with a V-neck, he was wearing a worn-out, yellowed fine rib undershirt. The waiter eyed him a little disparagingly as he brought him to his table. His friend was already sitting there and stood up to greet him. Alexander gave him a fist bump. His friend looked irritated and returned the greeting. "My best man, what kind of ghetto attitudes are these? At least it goes with your casual footwear." Alexander looked at the floor. He was wearing rather expensive-looking sneakers. And white socks. He stammered something about a suitcase that had gone missing and that he'd been a bit stressed. His friend grinned a little disparagingly and poured Alexander a glass of red wine.

The conversation was somehow wooden. Marcus told stories from their school days. But Alexander couldn't remember any of them. The wine was quite tasty, the steak was too rare for him, but he didn't dare complain. With lots of ketchup, it was fine. When the waiter asked if he should pour more wine, Alexander replied with his mouth full "Oi mate, gimme a big beer, yeah? And some mayo with them chips." The rest of the meal passed in silence. All you could hear was Alexander smacking his lips. And after he had finished, a loud and passionate burp. Marcus looked horrified at first. Then he laughed uproariously and burped at least as loudly. "Blimey, mate! That was a good one. Now off for a fag and a fart outside?" "You can proper bet on it, mate. Got a spare cig for us?".

Marcus and Alexander had to put their last few pounds together to pay. The waiter looked disgustedly at the stale bills. "You got a problem, mate? Our money not good enough for ya? What's it gonna take for a blowie, eh? Would ya prefer that?" Alexander could barely stop Marcus from starting a fight with the waiter. He waved for security. A few minutes later, the two chavs were thrown out the back exit.

The evening was still young. Alex called Cal to see if he would like to have a beer in the pub at the youth hostel and watch the game. Cal replied that he had just taken a punter up to the room and had to fuck him first. Blimey, Cal was always lucky. Mack suggested he stand by the mess hall exit. Maybe you could pick up a customer there too. Alex looked in his wallet. He was broke again. He could do with a few pounds. They had at least managed to scrounge two fags from a passer-by. The evening was off to a good start. And at some point it would end with a hot threesome in their room.

Pics found @maennersneakersockenfuesseskins and @belgiquecuir

[infernally-fond]

Orb of Infernal Envisioning - Unused Lines

I hadn't seen this mentioned prior - but there are some (to my knowledge) unused lines for the Orb of Infernal Envisioning in Helsik's shop for any interested.

Disclaimers, disclaimers -- if something doesn't make it into the final text of the published work, it's perfectly reasonable to ignore it for the sake of implications/theories that result from what is explicitly in the text/game itself.

This is just for fun. As is, you know, *all* of this. So.

If Raph's alive:

Narrator: *Your reflection looks back at you, smiling. As the skin burns and peels from its skull, the smile grows wider and wider and wider...*

Narrator: *The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Narrator: *Within the crystal, you see the devil Raphael sipping from a goblet of blood-red wine. He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you?* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Narrator: *The image within the ball drifts through the corridors of an elegant house. Corpses hang from the walls.*

Narrator: *With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving.*

If you've been a Bad Client (TM):

Narrator: *You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.*

Narrator: *The ball replays the final moments of Raphael's life over and over and over and over...*

Narrator: *Within the ball you see Raphael, broken and bloody, dangling above the maw of the archdevil Mephistopheles who is preparing to devour him.* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Screenshot of the above:

I'm by no means a lore repository - no amount of hyperfixation can make digesting it en masse particularly easy for me. But! I'll tie my thoughts to this nonetheless.

First, we have our canon line: "...He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you? *denotes: final phrase as incredulous and a little scared"

So we have the writers prompting us to at least entertain the idea that Raphael is placidly aware that you (or someone) is looking in on him - and he smiles! No big deal, favored client! Cheers to you, etc, etc. You're meant to be ill at ease here. I doubt any of us do - but, you're meant to. The average person would.

We'll block these out temporally because it was my first instinct to do so. :)

Past Events -

We have the play-by-play of Raphael's last moments. (GLaDOS voice: "You know, after you murdered me?")

To any player who would have seen this, this is real. Verifiable. The orb is showing you a true thing that happened, and you know because you were there. Doesn't get better than that.

Even if he doesn't ultimately die and there's some grand plot hitherto unseen, the beatdown replayed on the big screen is correct. You'd know if it wasn't.

Premise 1: The orb can show you accurately represented events.

Current 'Events' -

Example: Your reflection has a lab accident moment.

The use of reflection is critical to establish the point in time. You move to the left, it moves to the left. It's right now. And, right now, your skin seems to be melting off your face.

Unless there was an intended accompanied face-melted ending that would have accompanied this dropped line, this was written to be scary and provably false. Tav, touch your face. Exactly.

So:

Premise 2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact.

Future Events

Ex 1: "*With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving."

'With the clarity of truth' is an obvious bid to double check any accusations of falsehood, and we're diligent enough to play along.

The only condition to checked to trigger this text is for Raphael to be alive -- regardless if you take his deal, go to his home, etc.

For all roads to lead to Player-Character-buffet seems unreasonable. Impossible, even. Unlawful. I'm calling a lawyer, hang on-

And so we hit a debate on how to interpret the sense of 'truth' you feel from the orb. I think this line reads best from the equivalence of failing some Wisdom check -- you are very sure it's true, but it's an Orb of Infernal Envisioning. Click again. You just saw your reflection melt.

So I think this is a lie.

So we expand Premise 2 a little.

Premise 2, v2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact. This includes false visions of the future.

Ex. 2: The Blasphemy.

*The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Right.

So this has to be the future, because unless you are electing to do some very wild shit while looking into the orb, this is not the current situation.

There is a lot of vagueness here - but, I think that because it is so vague and any variety of Tav/Durge/Origin character can see it and have this response. This is a run-of-the-mill, customized vision of torment meant to get the desired reaction.

It's not about truth, it's not about warning. It's just the infernal variation of a jump scare.

If the content of the vision can be customizable in this fashion, it reveals something else - it's not a specific lie, a specific truth, or any quality of the content itself that 'matters' to the orb. No, what matters is the reaction. Your soul feels stained, doesn't matter how.

Varying Perspectives

Across these, we see the vision in the orb take the perspective of someone following/viewing Raphael (Wine-Snob-Hour, Looped-Death, Saturn-Moment), following/viewing you (Lab-Accident, Dead-Dove-Do-Not-Ohhh Yikes), some unanchored POV that isn't dead-phael ("You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.")

The visions mostly occur in the House of Hope; Cambion dinner is in Mephistar, your reflection is presumably in the Devil's Fee on the Material Plane.

We're not fixed to see any specific time, in any specific realm, to see any specific person. And we're not even guaranteed to see any specific degree of lie.

So what's the point of this fucking thing?

Provable fact is used one time across this set - the first thing we covered. You killed Raphael.

The only time the orb tells you the verifiable truth, it does so "over and over and over and over..."

Because it hurts you. Or, well, it's intended to.

That's it, that's the whole thing. The only time it evokes the (known) truth is when said truth torments you. Otherwise, it's scary what-ifs, cheap jump scares, and the corpses of imps and debtors you had a hand in creating.

All of this can be context to slightly reframe the vision of the moment before filicide with Mephistopheles. All of these visions are brief and so what one selects to provide details of is very revealing.

In this vision you're granted two adjectives:

You see Raphael, broken and bloody, about to die again.

If we stick to the expanded interpretation that the orb shows only what will get the desired reaction, this isn't narrative to resolve a loose thread. It's not closure. It's shown because the orb manifests what is expected to make you suffer - or at least take pause and sort of steep in the disquiet of the consequences for a moment.

Reaching waaaay across the narrative and very out of my lane for this post, so much of the tone in the HoH arc is campy humor, but I don't think this was meant to be.

The specific call out to watching him die 'over and over and over and over', to his 'broken and bloody' form is not flippant language. It's certainly not campy.

I think the tonal shift for this conclusion (while pretty jarring, I gotta admit) is meant to be pretty somber for Raph.

But many players have just bounced down the sequence of "lol he's a bottom" to "Haarlep said that's twice as long as-" to "omg he sings his own song" to victory and, then -- "wtf someone's eating him?"

It's an odd pivot. People have to be primed for sympathy, and I certainly didn't read the writing for the orb as intending to pull at something uncomfortable in the player post-HoH when put in context with the high-score-streak of chamberpot-humor. I can only back into that interpretation when looking at the full set of narration the orb was set to provide at some point.

Kinda wild.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Currently obssessing over 0308 (as usual) and the way punishment/judgement is represented as fire in Fuuta's MVs and rain/water in Amane's. The parallels are driving me insane I swear.

Punishing someone else.

Being punished (I assume Fuuta is supposed to be burning here).

Like okay okay listen.

CW: Online harrassment, doxxing, child abuse, cults and indoctrination, burning and drowning.

What do these things represent in the MVs? Well, like I said, it's punishment or judgement. They're these suffocating, overpowering forces of nature which feel like they swallow you whole, right?

[Backdraft] Flames closing in, are both sides losers? Flames closing in, can’t douse this FIRE

Alight, enmeshed, their eyes closing in Dodging seems impossible Bust out, explode that counter uppercut Swallowing me whole, can’t douse this FIRE

Amane may not mention water in her lyrics, but the visuals are clear enough.

But obviously they're so so different. The fires in Bring it On and Backdraft always have human origin. It's Fuuta weilding the fire swords, it's Fuuta who uses the highly flammable spray paint. In fact, Fuuta uses the username Pazuzu, a wind demon, and wind very easily causes fires to spread and worsen (more on the Fuuta-Pazuzu connection in this post by milk-ly I highly recommend you read!). Fuuta for a long time had control of the punishment and judgement dealt out to others, he controlled the fire.

But humans don't control rain. It always comes from nature, and in Amane's eyes, from a God. It's an immutable fact of life, punishment shall come because it is ordained by a higher power.

Right? You get it?

And there's more. Because rain and water in general is a necessity. It's something humans can't live without. Even if it's unpleasant or annoying when it does rain, people should always be grateful that it does. Even if it's inescapable, it's a gift from God. It's love.

[Magic] But it’s not scary at all, because it’s love I can really think it’s great. See, isn’t it a great thing?

Please get my girl some therapy.

Okay so that's all well and good. But probably the most important difference is the aftermath.

Because for Fuuta, fire doesn't leave anything behind, but ash. It's a completely destructive force. Even if something new can take the burnt object's place (see: agricultural uses of fire), the old object is completely destroyed. It's unforgiving, nothing good can come from being burnt.

[Backdraft] An ever-victorious FIRE, burn so high 'till it becomes ash

With just one mistake and I’m out of chances Bless me, please, with one more chance

Fuuta's lives in a world where judgement is damning. Just one mistake, and you're already burning, and no one can douse the fire. That's how it's always been for him and the people he attacked. Nothing good comes from being punished, and there are no second chances.

But rain isn't like that. After the rain comes the rainbow, right? After punishment comes reform, after being judged, one can become a better version of themselves.

The thing that ties all the Purge March scenes with a rainbow is the theme of punishment, of rain. It first appears when Amane fumbles the Gozake flag, later when Amane heals the cat, then the last two images are after her victim killed the cat. It's the good following the judgement, the "improvement."

[Magic] I won’t say “I’ve had enough” Will you laugh with me and forgive me? I promise! I can only become a better girl!

I wonder why she won't say she's had enough punishment...

[The Purge March] The “It can’t be helped”, from the scum who can’t be helped That makes them doubtlessly, clearly, absolutely, unequivocally, beyond any doubt, GUILTY

Oh right! Because saying you won't be able to change after punishment is blasphemous and makes you "scum who can't be helped"! Right!

Please get my girl some therapy.

Okay, and why's all this paralleling important? Like sure it's neat, but this is all stuff that can be gathered individually from each MV, why do we gotta relate it to one another?

Well, because it makes it make so much more sense.

[Fuuta] Brat, you’re on the side who weren’t forgiven too, right? ……so why can you still stand? Don’t you can hear it too? The voices blaming us. ……I don’t have the energy to do anything like this. [Amane] It goes without saying. Because there’s something far more important than the voices of people we can’t even see. People are able to get back up again. As long as there’s something to guide them. Kajiyama Futa, by coincidence today happens to be your birthday, correct? Don’t you think it’s a good opportunity to be reborn?

Of course Fuuta wants to believe Amane! Because if her religion is right, then he does have a second chance!

Bless me, please, with one more chance

The use of "bless" here really became quite ironic huh. (Disclaimer, I don't have a good way of checking if there really is a religious implication in the original Japanese lyric and I actually think there isn't)

He's going through the punishment here, and he's reforming! He probably wouldn't dox anyone again after what happened with Killcheroy. Suddenly, his Guilty verdict isn't just an unforgiving fire which will consume him whole and leave nothing but ash. Instead, it's just a tiny bit of rain, and as long as he holds out, he can see the rainbow. If you feel like you're standing in an inferno, wouldn't you rather be in the rain instead?

I've always been worried about how Fuuta would react to a second Amane Guilty. I'm pretty sure Amane herself would only cling to her beliefs harder, because when the rain turns into a storm, the rainbow becomes even more necessary. If after all she's gone through she still believes in her faith, there is zero chance in my mind a second Guilty would help at all. The question is what the hell would Fuuta do if Amane suffers so much and the only thing she has left is her religion. The issue is that Amane's religion, given everything I talked about, seems like it would love martyrs, so if Fuuta is already starting to believe, he's only going to be... more impressed? Maybe? By Amane.

[Magic] I won’t say “I’ve had enough” Will you laugh with me and forgive me?

Yeah that line again.

And I don't know man, I really hope he doesn't end up attacking Shidou in Amane's stead, but I think it's not all that impossible. And it would also be very funny I think, a small part of me wants to see the reaction of people who voted Amane Guilty to protect Shidou if that happens.

Would Amane Innocent help? Not by itself, probably. But if Amane gets into a better mental state, it's possible Fuuta would be able to sorta start getting her to realize some of the bad parts of her cult and hopefully a Trial 3 inno on Amane would be enough to start a path to healing.

Listen, Shidou can survive a stab, and he can tell someone else how to heal the other injured prisoners. He and the others can probably come back from Shidou's injury. I don't think Amane can come back from a second Guilty if I'm honest. Given the Situation, I hope I'm wrong, but I am so so worried.

Come on Fuuta make a Timelines post asking us to inno Amane like Haruka did with Mu. Do it. I know it didn't go well last time but you know.

Anyways, Inno Amane please- take care!

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Since I won't be writing the sequel to Blade that Severs Hierarchy, but I thought some people might still enjoy the snippets I have, I will just post them on here, with the disclaimer that unfortunately they are not going to be a full story. You're free to use your imagination.

The idea is that Jace used his telepathy to forcefully remove Norn's influence from the oil, abruptly undoing the mind control implanted in the Phyrexian forces... all at once.

Norn isn't doing all the direct control herself. In reality, her understanding of Phyrexian biology is poor, let alone ichor magic. She's puppeting the armies by using a number of elite ichormages as proxies, who are the ones actually maintaining the spells.

The defenders of Ravnica did not understand what they were seeing. One moment: the choking porcelain sea closing in on all sides, each centurion moving in flawless concert. The next: a spasmodic ripple propagating through the invaders' ranks. A twitch of a jaw here, an arm there. Like marionettes snipped free, one string at a time. Then, all at once, chaos erupted. Those Ravnicans infected enough to understand the invaders' language heard sobs, prayers, pleas. Phyrexian soldiers looked wildly around themselves with sudden awareness of where they were, screaming the names of people long gone from their sides. Metal rang and cracked as centurions wrested their way from the ranks like trapped animals, breaking formation and fleeing deeper into the city. Compleated Ravnicans stared into the faces of their opponents with sudden, horrified recognition. "No, no, no!" "What– what have I done–?"

--

Back in New Phyrexia, wrapped in her red silken gown and ensconced in the safety of her palace, Elesh Norn hissed through her teeth. What she was seeing was impossible. Blasphemous. Entire sections of her Ravnican invasion force had gone dark from the grid, flickering before they lost contact entirely. "What is the meaning of this?" she snarled, seizing the nearest ichormage by the throat. The Phyrexian went limp with terror in her grip, whimpering as she lifted them to her face level and tightened her hold until a thin rivulet of oil trickled onto her perfectly manicured claw. She leaned in closer, baring her rows of sharp teeth. "Answer. Me." "I– I don't understand, Mother," they gasped. "Anomalous interference– Spontaneous–" "Then figure it out," Norn spat, hurling the mage to the floor with a resounding crack. Her lip curled, watching the pathetic creature scramble to their feet and desperately wipe their bleeding faceplate as their compatriots struggled not to watch. She would call a servitor to scrub the oil from her floors.

[illneverrecover]

static voice pt 2 | kth (M)

➛pairing: Demon Taehyung x Fallen Angel Reader (ft. bff Angel Jin) ➛summary: It's been weeks since his healing, and yet you still have a lingering demon house guest - something your best friend isn't going to let you ignore. However, with more time that passes, you realize... do you even want him to leave? ➛genre: Angel/Demon!AU, fluff, humor, eventual smut ➛word count: 3741 ➛rating: 18+ for this installment, please check each part for rating as there will be smut ➛warnings: cursing, some quick descriptions of violence, some heavy petting. ➛notes: Demon Taehyung demanded a full story line, and here we are. Shout out to static voice anon who started this whole thing by sending a simple ask -- you have no idea how much your encouragement means! And as always, sending love to @allbutmemorywillfade who sent in the original prompt which lead to the creation of these sweet dinguses, and who has been nothing but supportive & kind. You're too good to me 🖤 This is rough edited and unbeta'd bc I have no patience whatsoever. ➛song: Mine - Sleep Token & I Can See You - Taylor Swift ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @quinnkoo, @thatlongspringnight​

It’s Sunday morning, and there is currently a demon folding laundry on your bed.

Everything about that sentence should be blasphemous, and yet, it’s become normal. Well, normal for you. Certainly not normal for any other Fallen you’ve ever known. 

Taehyung’s brow furrows as he concentrates, sorting the mass of clothes first into piles before making way to fold each piece. His hands are precise, fingers lining up each seam as he works, eyes only leaving his work to dart towards the TV playing something in the background. He liked having something on for noise, he had explained, and who were you to question someone willing to fold your clothes?

Jin would say that your use of that argument is what led to having a demon for a roommate in the first place, which is exactly why you keep these kinds of thoughts to yourself - you didn’t ask for that kind of negativity. 

Not that there was any downside that you could see. Sure, you hadn’t asked Taehyung what his plan was yet, but you also hadn’t needed to. He was the epitome of a perfect house guest, slotting into your life easily and effortlessly. He was considerate, always offering to assist with any healings that he could; from triaging those who showed up at the door, to talking with them softly while you worked, easing their anxieties with a few kind words. And in those difficult sessions where there was nothing for him to do, he offered what he could - his presence, his reassurance.

It made you feel safe, knowing that he was on your side, no matter what you opened your door to. 

“Does this need a hanger, or am I supposed to fold this?” 

Taehyung holds the garment pinched between his fingers, eyes peering up to meet yours. It’s a black silky dress, mostly held together with string and a prayer, and you know for a fact it was something you hadn’t worn recently - let alone put in the wash. 

Heat creeps up your neck, and you fight the embarrassing urge to rip the fabric out of his hands and throw it out the window. The demon blinks at you with wide blue eyes, and you wonder not for the first time if he’s fucking with you. 

The other thing about Taehyung is that he’s impossible to read. His ability to go from the aloof affectionate demon who cuddles with your cat to the flirty winky man who drops innuendos in your kitchen leaves your head spinning. Worst of all - at least, to you - is that nothing has happened since that night at your place four weeks ago. Other than a few lingering glances that leave you questioning, Taehyung has made no more comments about his desires, which you try not to think about. Even if it’s driving you crazy. 

“That needs a hanger - though I have no idea how that ended up with the laundry, I haven’t worn it in ages.”

It was something you had purchased on a spontaneous whim, back when you had first become Fallen. It had made you feel sexy, powerful; and you had nowhere to wear it, so it had lived its life mostly stuffed in the back of your closet. 

“Oh, I put it there,” Taehyung says, nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I was going through your closet to see if there were some things you could donate to that shifter that you healed two nights ago and found it crumpled on the floor. It was too beautiful to leave in that condition.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, you instead fix him with a glare. 

“Oh? So you were aware it needed a hanger,” you grumble, though there’s no heat in your tone. “And what am I supposed to do with it now? It’s not very practical to wear for healing,” scoffing, you nod towards the dress. 

“I disagree,” Taehyung sniffs, placing the garment on the hanger before laying it down on the bed delicately, smoothing it over with a palm. “I think the sight of you in that dress could be healing in more ways than you could imagine.” 

Suddenly, the air in the room was stifling and you forget how words work, instead just blankly staring at the demon on your bed. He looks up at you, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, and before you can formulate a response, a loud sound interrupts from the other room. 

“HEY! Lucky, you asshole, I’m trying to walk!” Jin yells, clearly fighting a battle with the cat in the foyer of the apartment. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“In here!” you call out, moving to grab the dress off the bed and put it in the closet before the angel sees. You’re not sure why you feel the need to hide it from him, but the last thing you need is him doing something to embarrass you - especially after Taehyung managed to fluster you so thoroughly. 

Jin bumps the door open with his hip, his arms full of plastic bags, various groceries sticking out of each. “These are the groceries I owe you after eating all your last ones,” he announces, eyes scanning the scene he’s walked into. “I want it to be known for the record.”

“Hi, Jin!” your demon roommate greets, moving to stand. “Want me to put these away for you? I was just finishing up laundry.”

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, and you do your best to ignore the pointed question he was daggering into your skull, instead answering for him. “That would be great, Tae. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tae,” Jin echos, sliding the bags easily into the blonde’s arms. “We’ll  meet you out there in a second.” 

You’re about to mouth off about how Jin isn’t your father and he doesn’t get to order anyone around, least of all you- but Taehyung is already acquiescing, leaving the bedroom with the soft click of the door.

“So, he folds your laundry for you now, too? What’s next, he gets your dry cleaning? On Wednesdays, are you going to drink wine and do face masks?”

Tsking, you cross your arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jin. We both know I don’t have dry cleaning, and face masks are part of Smut and Skincare Sundays.”

This time, the angel doesn’t hide his annoyance in his glare.

“Come on, you know what I mean. I get why you haven’t kicked him out, but…” he sighs, plopping himself on the edge of your mattress. “What are you doing? What is he doing? What’s the end goal here?”

It’s what you’ve been asking yourself these last few weeks, and yet you’re no closer to coming to answer now than you were before. All you know is that you enjoy having him around, and something about the unreadable lanky demon being nearby gives you a sense of peace you haven’t felt since before becoming a Fallen. A feeling of comfort, of safety - and you’re terrified of losing it. 

“I don’t know, Jin. I just know that I don’t mind having him around,” you avoid his eyes, instead rounding the bed to finish putting away the clothes. “It’s nice having help with the healings, especially with the late night calls. You know I don’t like being alone here.”

You leave the other piece unsaid - that you don’t like being alone, at all. That Taehyung’s warm, infectious laughter and mischievous charm added light back into your once dark, monotonous days. That it felt like he belonged there - but that you have no idea how he feels, at all. 

The silence is heavy, as if Jin could read your mind, but if he does he doesn’t say anything, instead letting loose a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to be a hard ass or anything, but I am trying to look out for you.” 

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“I know that, too.”

“At least promise me you’ll talk to him about what his plans are? If he intends on staying here indefinitely, or…” Jin pauses then, as if he doesn’t want to even go down the route. “Whatever. But promise me you’ll discuss it?”

He reaches out then, stopping you in your tracks until you meet his eyes. There’s no longer any annoyance there, just genuine concern, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel any more at ease. 

“Yes, Dad,” you tease, shaking your hand free with a grin. “I promise I’ll talk to him. But it’s certainly not going to be in front of you, so it’ll have to wait for tonight.” 

“Fair enough,” Jin moves to stand, reaching for your door. “Just make it soon, okay?”

He closes the door behind him, and you hear his voice joining Taehyung’s in the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Why are you so scared to talk to Taehyung? It has nothing to do with his status as a demon, something you barely noticed outside of his beauty; you could tell he was a genuine being, regardless of his beginnings. And he’s easy enough to talk to, has been nothing but a perfect gentleman of a roommate. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s because it’ll be an awkward conversation, one that has the potential to make him feel awkward as well, something that you don’t want in the least. But if you’re honest - truly, deeply honest - it’s because you’re scared that he will leave, and you’re not sure that you want that at all, anymore. 

Actually, you know you don’t want that anymore.

The answer seems simple enough, then - have the discussion, ask him to stay. 

But why does the thought of asking him make you feel like you’re swallowing glass?

“You better come out here if you want to help pick dinner!” Jin yells, and shakes you from your thoughts. 

Joining them in the kitchen, you see they made quick work of putting away the groceries, leaving the counters clear with the exception of a few paper take-out menus. 

“Grocery shopping exhausts me,” Jin explains, nodding towards the array of menus. “It’s my treat, just let me know what sounds good and I’ll go pick it up. I promised Tae I’d stay for a movie.” 

After settling on a local Thai place, Jin calls in the order before heading out, demanding that you both are on movie selection duty in his absence. 

Plopping yourself onto the couch, Taehyung joins you, sitting side by side so close that your thighs are pressed together. Ignoring the building heat his proximity brings, you quickly grab the remote, scrolling through various streaming options trying to settle on something that you’d all like. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung interrupts, voice low.

“Of course.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?”

Tearing your eyes from the TV, you focus on his ethereal face illuminated in the flickering light of the screen, on the intensity in his eyes. He looks distant; his gaze still bright, but more serious than usual, more lost. 

“What do you mean, Tae?”

He sighs, a mixture of resignation and something more. “I mean, what if I wasn’t a demon? What if I hadn’t been injured, or it had happened in another district with a different healer? What if you hadn’t Fallen? Would our paths still have crossed?”

His eyes are a bright cerulean blaze, more solemn than you’ve ever seen him before, and it has you frozen in place. It feels like he’s asking you something much bigger, much more vulnerable than he’s letting on, and it makes your throat tighten. 

Meeting his stare, you reach for him, taking one of his hands into your own. “I believe that some connections are meant to happen, regardless of the circumstances,” you reply, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “We could have made different decisions, but ultimately, our souls found each other and brought us together.” 

It’s then you realize just how close you are, how close his face is to your own, how his body is pressed up against every inch of your side. The intimacy of your words and your bodies has you feeling exposed, and yet you can’t seem to pull away. 

Taehyung’s gaze meets yours, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “You really think that? That some connections are destined?”

“Of course I do,” you nod, and his answering smile is almost blinding. Sliding his hand away from yours, he instead launches into a hug, pulling you to his chest. 

“Thank you for saying that. You really have a way with words, you know,” Taehyung murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You have no idea how much peace your presence brings me, Angel. It’s something that I thought I’d lost forever.” 

His words have your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your tongue thick with the things you want to say. You’re even more affirmed in your decision to ask him to stay, pulling out of his embrace to do just that, when a loud knock at the door startles you both. 

“Hello? Is this where the Fallen healer lives?” a male voice calls out, one you don’t recognize. “Please, I just need some healing - are you home? Hello?”

Moving to open the door, you wait until you hear Taehyung follow in step behind you before answering. Leaving the chain lock in place, you open the door enough to peer into the hall. “Yes, how can I help?” 

A demon stands there – the tiny horns barely visible in his dark hair – black like his wrinkled suit. He was dressed like he either just left some sleazy bar or was on the way to one, though based on the stale whisky scent emanating from him, you’d guess both. 

He gives a low whistle, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Damn, they didn’t mention how pretty you are, just that you were the closest healer. If I wasn’t so hungover, I might try to shoot my shot, but at the present, I-” 

“Nevermind, I’m not home,” you deadpan, moving to close the door, when the demon's foot stops it from shutting completely. 

“Please, wait! I’m sorry, you’re right, that was rude of me–” he starts frantically, clearly not wanting you to leave. “Listen, I’m just really, painfully hungover, and I have a big meeting I have to get to with some guys that I do not want to piss off and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. I just need a little healing, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His hands wring together, and you notice how much his teeth are working his bottom lip, the tinges of his fear evident despite his bravado.

Glaring at him, you sigh heavily before peering over your shoulder to lock eyes with Taehyung. If all he needed was a little hangover cure, it should be simple enough of a healing without taking too much of your energy, and then he could be on his way. Easy enough. When your demon gives you a reassuring nod, you turn back to the stranger. 

“Fine, a quick healing, and then you leave me alone.” 

“Yes, of course! Thank you, seriously,” he continues, pausing as you unlatch the chain and open the door to let him inside. “I really appreciate it.” 

Standing in the entryway, it’s once he closes the door behind himself that the stranger finally notices Taehyung, eyes narrowing. “What’s another demon doing here?”

“He helps me,” you reply, giving the same simple answer you give anytime the question is asked by a creature looking for your services. At the end of the day, it’s none of their business who he is and why he is with you, and the less information given, the better. “We’ll do the healing down the hall.”

Moving to get your supplies, you go to show him to your workspace but he’s still paused, glaring at Taehyung. 

“What, he helps you, you help him, that kinda thing?” he sneers, speaking to you but still only looking at Tae. “Can’t say I blame him, you really are a looker. I bet you’re really fun to play with.”

Temper snapping at his words, you spin on your heel to point to the door. “That’s it, you’re done. Get out.” 

Before the demon can utter a reply, Taehyung is in his face, as if he was waiting for your unspoken signal to spring into action. Holding him in place with a fist in his suit jacket collar, he shakes the demon once, walking him backwards toward the door. “You heard her. Leave now, and do not return.” 

“Come on! Can’t you take a little joke?” the asshole shouts, any pretense of niceties fully falling away. “It’s just a quick healing, you sensitive bitch!” 

You can feel the change in the atmosphere when Taehyung tenses, his form seemingly trembling with restraint as his pupils blow out until his eyes are black. “You’re going to regret that,” he murmurs, a sinister smirk on his lips.

A bright light has you covering your eyes, slowly blinking until you can make out the form of Jin, his wings fully spread and an angelic dagger in tow.  The Thai food was still in bags in his other hand, Jin clearly returning from his trip only to walk into a different kind of battle.

Dropping the bags by the door, he saunters into the room.

“He’s right, you will regret that,” Jin says, voice even, “but you’re going to have to deal with me now, instead.” 

Plucking the demon out of Taehyung’s hold, Jin tugs him into a headlock, placing the blade at the bottom of his throat before turning toward the door. “Taehyung, why don’t you make sure our girl here is all taken care of while I take care of the trash, will you?” 

He waits for Taehyung’s nod, and then Jin looks at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you affirm, stepping closer to Taehyung. 

“I’ll come check on you guys later.” He nods, and then he’s out the door, a bright light streaming through the cracks as it closes. 

And then, it’s just the two of you.

Taehyung immediately springs into action, arms sliding around your shoulders as he guides you to the couch, draping a blanket around you once you settle. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, he continues his task, moving next into the kitchen to put the take out in the oven to keep warm before putting the kettle on for tea. Finally, he searches through the newly stocked pantry for a sugary snack, something that will appeal to your sweet tooth. 

“What sounds better, sour gummy bears, or those nerd cluster things?”

“Sour gummy bears, please,”

Soon, the coffee table before you has a cup of hot honey lavender tea and a little bowl of sour gummies, and Taehyung is settling beside you, reaching for the remote to find something to put on TV. You feel cozy snuggled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you and your overly affectionate demon beside you, and it’s then that you realize just how comforted you really feel.

Effortlessly, without you realizing, Taehyung knew what to do to soothe you, knew the actions that would bring you peace after something stressful had happened. He didn’t need to be asked, or told – just sprang into action to support you, asking for nothing in return. There was only one other person who had done that for you, even before becoming Fallen, and that was Jin. 

The thought has your heart thrumming in your chest.

Pressing play on some vampire show, he then leans back on the couch, pulling you with him until you’re resting cuddled into his chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, eyes questioning. “If it’s too much, I can go get some pillows instead.”

It’s his thoughtfulness that finally breaks you, has tears welling in your eyes as you stare into his depthless gaze.  You can’t hold it back anymore, the question you were going to ask, and you blurt it out before you can doubt yourself. 

“Taehyung, will you live with me?”

 His eyes widen in surprise, and you feel your stomach drop, scrambling to explain. “I don’t know what your plans are, or how long you wanted to stay here… But I’ve come to realize that I really, really like having you around, and I don’t want you to go. So I wanted to ask, would you stay here with me?”

The surprise in his gaze fades, leaving behind wonderment, adoration. 

“You want me to stay?”

Not trusting your voice, this time, you just nod, giving him a watery smile.

Taehyung scoops you up, practically pulling you into his lap and  immediately wrapping you into a big hug, squeezing you so hard your lungs fight for air. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to stay with you.” 

A deep chuckle reverberates in his chest, and you can’t help but join in, his laughter and joy infectious as he crushes you. “No one has ever asked me to stay before.” 

You go to pull away, to move back to your spot on the couch and to continue this conversation, but Taehyung’s arms lock you in place, holding you to him. 

Brow furrowing,  you go to question him, but then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is electric, sizzling down your spine and through your veins until you’re dizzy, until you’re consumed in nothing but the feeling of him and his mouth moving against yours. You’re drunk with it, on the precipice, and when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, you let him tumble into your mouth, salvation be damned. 

“Well, what do we have going on here?”

Jin's voice startles you both, interrupting the kiss. Breathing heavy, you go to slide off Taehyung’s lap, but he is having none of it; instead tucking you in closer and giving the angel a proud grin. Rolling your eyes, you stay put, working to get your heart back to a normal rate. 

“I would say I’m surprised about the whole kissing thing, but I’m not,” he continues, moving fully into the living room to face you both. “However, could you tell me why in the hell you were both glowing?”

[stephensmithuk]

The Hound of the Baskervilles: The Curse of the Baskervilles

CW for discussion of crimes against humanity.

Devonshire is a historical alternative name for the county of Devon, these days not seeing that much use. Devon and next-door Cornwall have a friendly rivalry going over various things, including the order in which you put cream and jam on a scone. Cornwall does jam first, Devon cream. Getting it the wrong round in the relevant county can attract disapproving looks.

Mainstream Christianity believes that the only sin that cannot be forgiven by God is "blaspheming against the Holy Spirit", which is a continuous and arrogant rejection of it. It is generally deemed impossible for a Christian to actually do because if you worried that you've done it, you're not rejecting the Holy Spirit.

The Great Rebellion is the then standard name for what is commonly called the English Civil War or less commonly, but more correctly the War of the Three Kingdoms - England, Scotland and Ireland all being their own kingdoms under a single monarch, Wales is a principality. Lasting from 1639 to 1653 and including a whole bunch of conflicts, including two English Civil Wars. Various videos explaining the whole rather complex affair with varying degrees of comedy can be found on YouTube, but the popular version is that a bunch of republicans (Roundheads) with short hair fought a bunch of monarchists with long hair (Cavaliers). To quote Arnold Rimmer, it ended "1-0 to the pudding-basins" and King Charles I ended up losing his head in public.

Edward Hyde, 1st Earl of Clarendon, a key member of the governments of Charles I and Charles II wrote some memoirs of the whole period. Initially written between 1646 and 1648 as a defence of the former, his fall from power and exile in 1667 (he was made to carry the can for the English defeat against the Netherlands in the Second Anglo-Dutch War despite having little involvement) resulted in a massive expansion and re-write of The History of the Rebellion, which generally runs to no less than six volumes. One can compare it to Winston Churchill's The Second World War it seems - interesting, but watch for bias.

A yeoman in this context was a commoner who owned the land that he farmed, as opposed to being merely a tenant. Indeed a third of all farmland remains run by tenanted farmers; including much of Dartmoor, which is owned by the Duchy of Cornwall, the land holdings of a (male only) heir to the throne.

A maiden is traditionally an unmarried girl or young woman, with a strong implication of virginity to boot.

Michaelmas is a Christian festival held on 29 September in honour Saint Michael and all the other angels. It was traditionally associated with the end of harvest and a bunch of other stuff, including the legal calendar. The Lord Mayor of London (not to be confused with the Mayor of London) is elected on this. Traditionally the meal eaten here included goose, but it has very much fallen out of fashion in modern Britain.

A carouse (also a verb) is basically a long drinking and dancing event; "Carouse" turns up as a skill in some RPG systems i.e. the ability to do this effectively without ending up on the floor next to your vomit.

"Terrible oaths" here mean foul language.

A league is three statute miles, so she's got to get nine miles or 14.9 kilometres. That's a rather long way to go, especially in the dark.

A flagon is a large vessel for containing drink, about 2 imperial pints or 1.1 litres in capacity. You can either use it for pouring (in which case it will have a spout) or drinking from directly.

Trenchers were flat wood or metal plates used for serving food. In medieval times, they would be made of stale bread. After the meal, these and the juices, leftovers etc. would be generally given to the poor. Eating the trencher yourself was considered rather vulgar.

"Wench" has had various meanings over the years. In Shakespeare's time, it was a neutral or even endearing term for a young woman. It then evolved into a female server, particularly at a tavern (with the associated sexy costume, although I am not sure when that became a thing) and from there to being a term for a prostitute, with "wenching" becoming a verb to mean using the services of them. With an associated meaning of a promiscuous woman. It is not clear whether the writer is using the term or Hugo is here. I can see the latter using it in a rather venomous way.

A kerchief is another name for a bandana.

The pistols of the period were single-shot weapons requiring reloading with powder, wadding and shot. Even with regular practice like in an army (where this was a major part of drill), you'd be looking at a 15 to 20 second reloading time. It was commonplace to carry two pistols (a brace) as a result, at which point the fight was either over, or it was time to get your sword out. Some went still further - Blackbeard, who was going progressively crazy with syphilis, is recorded as carrying six loaded pistols on him.

There were 16 fatal dog on human attacks in the UK from January to September 2023; a sharp rise blamed on the American XL Bully breed, which was promptly banned in England and Wales as a result.

Providence means God's intervention in the universe.

"Which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which is threatened in Holy Writ" is a reference to the Commandment about not creating graven images or idols, either the Second Commandment or part of the First depending on your denomination; Anglicans put it as the Second.

"The probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon" is going to form part of a post discussing late Victorian elections, because I could go on all days about those. Central Devon was a narrow Conservative hold in 2024, by the way.

Nouveaux riches is French for "new rich", commonly rendered as "new money". The "aristocracy" on both sides of the Atlantic (see The Gilded Age) looked down on the new millionaires who were being created by the Industrial Revolution, such as railway tycoon Cornelius Vanderbilt.

The discovery of diamonds at Kimberley in 1867, followed by gold at Witwatersrand in 1886, led to a vast boom that turned what would become South Africa from an agricultural economy to a wealthy industrial one... most of that wealth ending in the hands of white people, of course. Indeed, it led to the actual creation of South Africa in the first place.

Inquests are held in England and Wales after any death that is violent, unnatural, a possible suicide or in custody. These were at the time conducted with a jury, but this has become much rarer since 1927, when a coroner can do it on their own in many cases. In the case of a murder, an inquest will be opened and adjourned to allow the police to investigate. This process can take quite a while; after the Manchester Arena bombing of 2017, a full public inquiry into the event was held and following the end of that in 2003, the same judge then conducted an inquest into the death of the bomber himself, as was legally required. No public hearings were held in this case to avoid attention and save public money. The conclusion was officially logged as "suicide while undertaking a terror attack that murdered 22 innocent victims and injured many others", Sir John Saunders clearly that merely putting "suicide" was insufficient.

The Gypsy and Traveller community have long been associated with horses, with the Appleby Horse Fair being held every June in Cumbria. The RSPCA have a large presence at the event to deal with any animal welfare issues, issuing warnings and will take animals away or prosecute people if required. The 2024 event saw two horses worked to death, the official website posting the RSPCA's request for information on those responsible.

I've discussed Bushmen/San in one of my posts on The Sign of Four.

"Hottentot" is a now-offensive term for the Khoekhoe nomadic pastoralists of Southern Africa, often grouped with the San. Its use in the 1964 Mary Poppins film has seen that movie reclassified in the UK from a U (universal) to a PG.

They are split into the Northern Khoekhoe or Nama, located in Namibia and Botswana, and the Southern Khoekhoe or Cape Khoe found in the SW coastal regions of South Africa. At the time this book was set, these were, respectively:

German South West Africa

Bechaunaland Protectorate (de facto independent until 1891 when the British took active control)

The Cape Colony

Two years after publication, separate Nama and Herero rebellions in the former against colonial rule (the German aim being ethnic cleansing) were brutally defeated, with the peoples either shot dead, driven into the desert or placed into concentration camps. They were subjected to medical experiments, skulls being taken to Germany for use as demonstration of "racial inferiority". The similarities between this genocide and the Holocaust are clear, although the precise connections are debated by historians.

It is estimated that up to 80% of the indigenous population died as a result.

Germany has in the last decade offically recognised this as a genocide, agreed to pay €1.1 billion to the affected communities and has returned the human remains held in German universities or teaching hospitals.

On a final note, Mortimer failing to mention the footprints around the body might be considered perjury.

[greater-than-the-sword]

hi fellow christian writer. could you please help me? I'm writing a fanfiction of a movie where there is this character who has the power to see the future - the character already came with this power. And the bible says seeing into the future is a sin. The movie takes place in old times south america (?), so heavily christian/catholic (-based (?)). I'm really trying not to write or do anything that is blasphemous.

(I'm really sorry for my English too)

I know you're talking about the movie Encanto, and I've never seen the movie, so I don't really know how I would handle it if I were writing a fanfiction of it. Perhaps someone else who has seen it would be better qualified to analyze this aspect of it?

Usually I've seen future telling handled in a few ways in fiction.

The precognition route Common for superheroes, this involves people predicting various potential, but not at all certain, futures based on what is currently happening. A future, but not The Future. Kind of like what people do in real life to extrapolate the future, but enhanced to superhuman speed and acuteness. I don't think that's what is going on in Encanto, though.

Time slippage In this trope, the character has some kind of tie to time itself behaving in an abnormal manner causing them to see things from different parts of time. This is common on Doctor Who, for example. As time itself is a created phenomenon, this could reasonably incorporated into science fiction written by a Christian even though it couldn't happen in real life. After all, most magic powers in fiction are essentially people doing impossible things that in *real* life would be attributed to spiritual beings. But it doesn't inherently have to be that way in fiction.

The Merlin In the King Arthur myths, Merlin was some kind of changeling or intended antichrist who was born with Satanic powers, but was baptised as an infant and now still has some kind of intrinsic powers that he uses for good. See also: Hellboy; that warlock from Santa Claus is Comin' to Town

Divine visions Last but not least you can have your character be the recipient of straight up divine prophecy, in a fictional universe. This happens all the time in fiction as well, See: Tolkien's entire work.

Personally I think Time Slippage might be your best route but again, not having watched the movie I can't be sure.

[scholastic-dragon]

TMNT Stocking Stuffers

This could be taken as completely platonic or you could be dating one of them, or maybe even all of them!

Bay!Turtles x Gn!reader

Gathered 'round the TV

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: spelling mistakes, like 2 swear words, good family moments,

Summary: you find out Raph has never seen the 'Santa Clause' movies

It was early December, a thick layer of snow covered anything it could stick its claws into. It was freezing and if you wanted to keep your fingers and toes you had to wear a minimum of three layers when leaving your apartment.

Living in the sewers had its problems, but the middle of a very cold winter was always the worst. With help from Donnie, April and Casey, a heater had been placed in each and every room.

It was nearly impossible for these boys to retain any heat so they were bundled as tight as they could manage. You were used as a personal heating blanket everytime you came over: not that you minded extra turtle cuddles.

But tonight was different. You were sitting pressed into Mikeys side, a thick blanket wrapped around your laps, cups of hot cocoa in both your hands.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" You drawl, scowling over into the kitchen, ignoring how Mikey shrunk down to avoid your gaze.

Raph sighed, moving into the kitchen doorway, leaning on his side and crossing his arms. "I don't get what the fuss is,"

"Say. It." You ignored how Donnie and Leo chuckled quietly from the other couch.

"I don't like the Santa Clause movies,"

You gasp, pointing an angry finger at him, sitting up more, leaning against the back of the couch. "That's blasphemous, you'd get burned at the stake for saying that to my family,"

Leo and Donnie fully chuckled at that, almost choking on their own drinks. To avoid you spilling yours, Mikey gently took your cup and set in on the coffee table, not bothering to hide his grin.

Raph scoffed, rolling his eyes with a large grin and turning back into the kitchen.

"What about it don't you like?"

Raph answered from the kitchen, standing -conveniently- out of your eyesight, you heard him moving around, getting some kind of dish and a few snacks. "I just get bored, the CGI was so bad I never finished it-"

"You've never watched it all the way through?!" You interrupt, hitting Mikeys shoulder when he covered his mouth with his fist to keep from laughing too loud.

"You know what, no, no," You shake your head, turning back to face the coffee table, getting out from under the blanket to snatch the remote from Leo's lap.

"Hey!" He wanted to be upset, but he was really intrigued to see what you were going to do.

"I'm putting it on, and we're all going to watch it and you're going to change your mind!" Sitting back down next to Mikey, you flick through the streaming services until you find Disney+.

"I'm not watching the movie," Raph laughs back from the kitchen, still out of eyesight.

"Yes you are,"

"Listen, I've tried, but I-" He tried to argue, failing to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Raphael get your ass in here and watch this movie with us!" You turn your head and gasp. At that exact moment, Splinter had wandered out of his room with an empty mug, he paused by the doorway with his eyebrows raised.

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what he would do.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear," You quickly blurt out, hand covering your mouth. It was a 'rule' in the lair to not swear in Splinters presence, he found it a bit rude and disrespectful and asked to keep it to a minimum when he was around.

Raph peered out of the kitchen, holding a plate of cookies and a few candy canes.

Splinter sighed, glancing at Raph. "I believe you should listen to them, lest you wish to, how do you say, get knocked on your ass,"

Donnie had taken a sip of his hot cocoa and laughed right into the mug, getting it all over his lap and on his glasses. Leo's jaw dropped and he covered his mouth, praying he didn't laugh.

Splinter smiled at Raph, patting his shoulder as he walked last him to refill his mug. Raph shook his head, sighing and sitting down in his arm chair by Mikeys side.

"You're gonna watch it," You pointed a finger at him. "And you're gonna like it,"

"Yeah, yeah," He rolled his eyes, shoving a whole sugar cookie into his mouth.

❤💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

The end credits rolled, taking the remote you paused it, turning dramatically to Raph.

"Well?"

Raph scoffed, raising a hand out of his blanket to scratch his chin. "It was a movie,"

"Don't play that game," You felt Donnie start laughing beside you: during a break in the middle of the movie, he and Mikey switched spots. "What did you think of it?"

Raph rolled his eyes, throwing his head back against his chair. "CGI is still bad,"

"It's what makes it charming," You press, elbowing Donnie in the ribs. "What else?"

"What is this NCIS? What's with all the questions?"

"It's not fair of you to make that joke since you haven't watched that show either-" Donnie mused, head flying back as Raph threw a pillow at his face.

"Alright, you want my honest review?" Raph ran a hand down his face.

"Yes,"

"I think you're annoying, and too obsessed with Christmas,"

"That's it!" You stood, lunging toward him, but Donnie wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back down onto the couch.

"Calm down, Killer," Donnie mumbled, barely straining to keep his arm around you.

"You're gonna get it," You glare at Raph, tapping Donnie's arm to let you go, he does and you slump back against the couch, arms crossed.

"Oh, I'm so scared of a 5'2 firecracker,"

Leo and Donnie jumped up this time to stop you from pouncing.

❤💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

A few days later you were coming down to the lair with a handful of different flavors of candy canes to try with Mikey.

He kept sending you tiktoks and links to crazy and disturbing flavors and you had -somehow- found most of them.

Stomping the snow off your boots and switching them for the slippers you kept there, you set out to look for the guys.

"Guys?" You call, the living room was empty and peering into the dojo, you see Mikey, Leo and Splinter meditating. You quietly, close the door and leave them.

Setting the candy canes down in the kitchen you head to Donnie's lab, excited to tell him that you found coffee flavored candy canes (I'm sorry I don't think these exist, sorry for getting your hopes up)

As you walk down the hall, you pass by Raphs room, hearing something playing and noticing the door was ajar.

Opening it a little further you see him laying on his side taking a nap, he's facing you, phone in hand playing a movie.

You smile, walking into the room and pulling his blanket up to cover his shoulder, glancing at his phone you see 'The Santa Clause' playing.

Standing up, you smile even wider. "I am so going to use this against you,"

❤💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @strawberrycakeblog

[link-eats-rocks]

Linktober Day 9: DIETY

After another day of begging Hylia for help, Zelda is feeling mutinous towards the diety. All she can see is the very real hero before her.

Her legs trembled from the long walk. Her knees burned from holding her weight for hours. And her throat hurt from all of her crying and begging.

It felt so pointless– nearly insane to talk to this carved, lifeless stone. She may as well be asking for help from a fence post.

Maybe it was those blasphemous thoughts that held Zelda back from unlocking her powers. Certainly if her father had a glimpse into his daughter's bittered mind, he'd say so.

"Princess?"

Zelda's shoulders slackened even as she caught and held her breath.

That soft voice gave Zelda a rush of energy the likes of which no statue could imbue.

Link's hand hesitated at her arm, causing his fingers to whisper against her skin before he committed to taking hold of her.

"Yes, Link?" She coughed. She'd lost her voice and her words came out as a weak crackle.

"It's far out of my place to interrupt and speak my mind, but I don't think it's safe for you to sit here any longer. You look starved and cold and tired." He took a knee beside her and tilted his head to catch her eyes.

When she relented, letting him see her tears, he gave her a smile that was warm like candlelight.

She smiled back and he strengthened his stabalizing grip on her arm.

"You're not likely to unlock your sacred powers while lying in bed with pneumonia, no?"

She bit her lip. "No," she whispered, amazed at how quickly he could cheer her up after hours of intense distress.

The kind, beautiful blond had pulled her from a bad dream.

"Come on. Let's get you a hearty meal and good long rest, hm?"

Again, she could only just hold back her tears. She was so exhausted it was almost impossible to keep from crying.

Link placed his other hand on her back, his face pinching in concentration, and Zelda did her very, very best to stand up on her own.

She cried out as her knees buckled. Her legs had no strength in them, only pain. Her muscles only ached with effort for a second, though, before Link's arm was hooked under her legs and he pulled her up and into his arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she groaned, sitting up rigidly, holding her head up. "Thank you for helping me up and catching me but I'm certain I can walk now so—."

"Princess, it's a bit of a walk back to camp. Try to relax."

Zelda's face flushed and her throat tightened. "Y-You don't intend to carry me all the way to camp..."

"You've done enough work for today. I'll take over here." Somehow, he struck a balance: not giving her orders, yet still ending the conversation.

She sighed and wrapped her arm around his neck then relaxed naturally into his hold. Her head was on his shoulder. She hadn't even realized she had a headache until she rested it. She sighed again more heavily and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Link."

"Of course, Princess."

She barely noticed as he climbed the steps out of the temple and down ancient cobblestone paths until they were free of the sacred grounds. From the moment they were back on the dirt road, Zelda faded to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of a crackling fire and forced her eyes open. She was on her comfortable fold-out cot with 3 layers of blankets tucked up to her chin.

Zelda turned her head on her pillow to see Link cooking something over the fire with his back to her. The smell of meat and veggies and butter and spices made her mouth water. She hadn't eaten all day in order to show her devotion.

It didn't make sense. When she thought of Link carrying her all the way here, tucking her into bed, and cooking a meal, that seemed a much more accurate description of devotion.

Truly, Zelda was hopeless. She didn't understand this Hylia one bit. The feeling of disdain must be mutual...

"Dinner's ready," Link said, interrupting her gloomy thoughts.

"It smells wonderful."

"I'm glad if you have an appetite. You need to eat up to regain your strength."

She felt too tired to sit up and eat, but Link had gone to a lot of trouble. She'd be compliant. She sat up on her elbow and her head sparkled while her vision blurred. Again, Link's hand was on her.

Maybe being sick wasn't so bad with Link around...

No, she shouldn't think like that.

"Mm. I'm sorry." She felt her head drifting sideways.

A hand cupped her cheek, holding her upright. Link blurred into focus before her and her mouth went dry.

His thumb was on her cheekbone, his fingers at her temple. His eyes sparkled with worry.

Zelda's gaze drifted to his lips, rosy, slightly parted, full and kissable.

He licked his lips and she hummed a trembling breath, a powerful longing washing over her.

"Can you sit up a little, just for a moment, while I get your food?" he whispered.

Had she really lost her mind or was he closer than before? She could feel his breath against her face as he spoke.

"Hm?" She blinked a few times. "Oh, um, yes. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so helpless."

He traced his thumb across her cheek. "That's enough apologizing, Princess."

He steadied the backs of her hands as she held the bowl of simmered tomato stew.

Her arms ached and her hand shook, but she managed a few bites. She didn't have any appetite, but for Link, she finished more than half of the meal. It seemed to make him happy and, indeed, she did feel more clear-headed.

Then she drank two cups of water and felt like a new person. She collapsed back onto the cot with a sigh, turning towards the crackling fire.

"I think we'd better break up the trip another day," Link said quietly, sitting on a rock and stoking the fire.

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow and she blushed.

"And I suppose I shouldn't argue."

He gave her a small smile. "Just one day. We'll travel to the stable tomorrow since it's close by and rest up there. We can finish the trip after that."

Zelda stretched and rolled onto her back. "That doesn't sound so bad. It's a nice compromise."

"A compromise?"

"Mm. I want to get away from the shrine as soon as possible. But I don't look forward to returning home either."

Link just hummed agreement.

Zelda looked up at the vast starry sky. The moon was high. It must be close to midnight. "You must be tired too. I wasn't the only one having to sit still and vigilant all day."

"My work is quite different," he scoffed.

"Were there shrines where you grew up?" The question took her by surprise even as it came out of her mouth.

"Yes. Just a little one in the square."

"Did your family...go to it?"

Link actually laughed. "Is there a wrong answer, Princess?"

Zelda rolled back over to face him and grinned. "No."

He held her gaze for a bit then shook his head, returning his attention to the fire. "I was always more for throwing a rupee in a well if I wanted something."

Zelda laughed too. "Was that effective?"

"About half the time."

"Mm. Has Hylia beat." Part of her brain begged her to shut up just for the discomfort of being a few miles from the temple. She closed her eyes and that voice in her head grew louder until her heart was pounding. Sleepiness drowned out any logic to ward off the fear.

It was no use. Her panic had turned into an aimless dread and she drifted between waking worry and bad dreams.

When she finally roused herself enough to snap to, she opened her eyes and was met with darkness. That didn't help. The fire had gone out.

She scrambled upright and scanned the little camp.

The stick Link had been using had slipped to his side and his head had drooped forward.

Zelda gritted her teeth. "Link?"

He was a light sleeper. He sat up and looked around, evidently checking for danger. "Yes, Princess?"

Heat filled her face. "I'm scared." How shameful.

He scuffled towards her until he was sitting by the bed. "Bad dreams?"

She averted her eyes from him and nodded.

He was still and silent.

She could understand why. What was he supposed to do about it?

"L-Link? Will you...stay closer?"

She saw his eyes widen by the light of the moon.

"Of course."

Beside her cot was only a patch of dirt and scrubby grass. Still he started to lay down.

Devotion.

She grabbed his sleeve, entirely unsure of what she was doing. "Closer?"

She saw him assessing the distance. There was none between him and the wooden beams of her cot.

She tugged on his sleeve when he looked up at her in question. "It's okay if not," she said, barely audible.

"Are you sure?" There was a tremor in his voice.

"Only if you're alright with it."

He swallowed and his jaw tightened. He dipped his head as he stood.

Zelda peeled back her blankets and again Link’s eyes flashed with surprise.

"Princess?"

"Yes, Link?"

"You're awfully tired. You've had a long day so...I don't want to overstep when you might wake up to regre—."

"I won't. Promise."

He exhaled a sharp breath and slipped his cloak off his shoulders.

It sent her heart racing. She moved over as much as she could and he crawled onto the small cot beside her.

It wasn't as crowded as she'd expect. They were both small. Link seemed smaller than usual with his frame against her.

"You're shaking." She pulled the blankets over him and tucked them up over his shoulders.

"Oh," his eyes darted up and down her face. He looked terrified.

She felt a stab of guilt. "You're uncomfortable. I've crossed a line. I know I have. We can forget I ever—."

"It isn't that, Princess. I'm just afraid I'll cross more lines."

Zelda found his hand at his chest under the covers. She took it and pressed it to her racing heart. "I've done my best today to be righteous, to have pure light bestowed upon me. I have done my best. But the only person in my life who cares to hear my requests...is right here."

Link closed his eyes and his lip trembled. His hand tightened around hers and he drew the slightest bit closer. His lips brushed against hers and she gasped.

She'd never been kissed before.

"Princess?" he said against her mouth.

When she nodded, their lips brushed again and she realized she was shaking too.

"I know you can't, but tomorrow," he kissed her suddenly, "I'll throw a rupee in the well for you."

Zelda could swear there was a sacred light in her fingertips as they drifted to Link's neck. It was too bright. Everything was too bright. She shut her eyes tight as Link inclined over her with his hands on her face.

Her lips parted.

He kissed her hard.

Hylia made her feel weak.

If anyone could make her feel powerful, it was this legendary hero.

One place for all your notes- Get Microsoft OneNote: https://aka.ms/GetOneNoteMobile

[freya-fallen]

Word count: 634

Part 1

Sebastian is, overall, an attentive yandere to the one who caught his eye. While he and Ciel don't have mortal needs, he is still a trained butler.

Moreover, his sweet pet takes care of cats. How could he ever forget his darling when she provides such an important service?

It begins after that kiss. You can't just up and leave, you see. You have cats to care for, and finding a home without leaving them on the streets would be nigh on impossible.

Besides, Sebastian lets you know before he leaves you that first night that he "has sampled your soul and could follow it anywhere."

Those words have etched fear into your marrow. You recognize a warning even when it's sweetly coded. He enjoys the chase, remember, and will hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you flee. When he catches you, it will be with whetted appetite and sharpened claws.

No, better to stay.

His visits are sporadic at first: he'll appear in the night and pass like a shadow. You wouldn't even notice if not for the demon's hums of pleasure as he interacts with your feline companions. You try to stay in bed and will yourself to sleep. Only...

Eventually he starts coming into your bedroom, too.

"I know you're awake, little human. It's so cute how you play pretend. Tell me, would you play act if I laid beside you and stroked my talons across all that vulnerable flesh?” You cannot help the shiver that passes over you where you hide beneath your blankets. He chuckles and the tap of his heels resounds in the otherwise quiet room. “It’s lovely, how you tremble at my presence.”

The bed dips and groans. Feathers flutter against the duvet and talons hook over the edge to drag it down.

“Won’t you look at me, little mortal?” The being croons breath as hot as hellfire against your ear. You shake your head. “I’ll take a safer form for you.” Sharp nails tickle beneath your chin and guide your face forward. They dig in when you stubbornly refuse to look.

Reluctantly, you bat apart your lashes. The bloody crimson of the demon’s eyes glint down at you in his handsome face. His smile is a blade and his teeth gleam white in the darkness. It’s unfair that something so unholy is so beautiful, like blaspheming god’s creation.

“There she is, my pretty human. You know, you spend far too much time at that job of yours. It limits my ability to check in on you,” he complains.

Your brows rise. “I have to work."

“Hm. No, I don’t think you do. You’ll quit.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laugh. “I need money to live.”

He waves it off. “You’ll be fine, little mortal. Trust me; I’ll take care of everything.”

“And what would you want in return?” Your voice is a whisper as you ask it; you know better than to make a deal with a devil. “My soul?”

He dips down to nuzzle your shoulder, lips soft against bare flesh and send shivers of pleasure down your spine. It mixes deliciously with your fear. “Nothing quite so nefarious. I’d be quite satisfied with the delights of your body.” Sharp black nails tear aside the layers between you and his black-clad form insinuates against your body. “After all, you are such a delightfully responsive thing. Shall I make you mine now?”

Before you can reply, his teeth sink into you like a hot knife, and you’re lost.

After this night, he will relocate you to his shared domicile, cats and all. Ciel is no longer allergic, and will have the majority of the home without felines. He willl just have to learn to accept Sebastian’s new pet and her additions.

[gfguren]

hidan | !suggestive | cw: choking, mentions of blood, cursing, hidan being hidan

-playing chicken with hidan-

He's a streak of red amidst the dark forest, terrifying but beautiful. He smiles as he approaches and you realize he's in one of his moods. He always is when he returns like that, smiling and covered in the blood of another.

So deliciously sadistic.

He raises a bloodied hand, knuckles grazing the expanse of your jawline, gently - so gently it makes you nervous. Your breath hitches in your throat, wary of the tenderness that's so unlike him. And he notices, of course. A wicked smirk tears at the corners of his mouth, the moonlight making him look almost sinister. "Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?"

You know full well Hidan could snap one day, succumbing to the bloodlust that bubbles just below the surface; the insanity he suppresses just for you, his sweet, naive little pastime. And it scares you sometimes, if you're completely honest. But by the gods is it exciting, the outlier in your otherwise monotonous life.

"No."

It's the truth but Hidan tilts his head to the side, humming with doubt. And when his fingers move to encircle your throat, you stay completely still. He watches you, studies your expression, lower lip tucked between his teeth. He seems almost disappointed at your lack of reaction, pressing down harder, harder, harder until you fold, eyes fluttering shut and hand grasping desperately at his wrist.

"Please," you breathe. He considers letting you struggle, letting his knuckles turn white until your face is drained of color and the light slowly fades from your pretty eyes - but he doesn't. Instead, he graciously decides to release his hold.

But you shake your head, pulling him closer, forcing his fingers back against your throat. "More."

He pauses, the cogs in his brain screeching to a halt. One, two, three whole seconds pass before the pieces click into place and he throws his head back laughing. "Sweetheart," he drawls, suddenly intent on painting the shape of his fingertips into your neck, a pretty shade of violet. "Don't tempt me."

You know you shouldn't instigate the man, that he has neither brake nor moral compass; he could choke the life out of you without a hint of remorse and you know that all too well, but when you meet his gaze and see the bloodlust dancing in those vermillion eyes, well you simply can't help yourself.

Your hand moves faster than the angel on your shoulder can tell you that you're an idiot, wrapping your fingers around the chain dangling from his neck and tugging hard. His playful demeanor is gone in an instant and he rips your hand from the holy sigil.

"Playing chicken today, are we?" he growls, slamming his lips to yours, canines teasing the flesh of your bottom lip before he bites down. You flinch when he shoves his tongue against yours and you taste the tang of your own blood. His free hand tangles in your hair, tugging sharply until your head is angled just the way he likes. Your own hands fumble for support, landing clumsily on the firmness of his chest. He groans into the kiss, lips coated red when he pulls away.

"Blasphemous little brat." His grip around your throat tightens until tears well in your eyes and spots of black dot your vision. "Is this what you wanted?" You try to nod but find it impossible; he knows anyway, if the smug grin spreading across his face is anything to go by.

You look up at him through wet lashes, hand moving to cradle his face. You don't miss the way his shoulders relax, hold easing and chest rising and falling slower; as if you made him melt, like putty in your hands. Perhaps that's why you continuously test his patience, crazy as he is; betting everything on that little soft spot you know he nurtures just for you.

"You're fucking crazy, you know that?"

His hands fall to his sides and the cold air hits your lungs in full force. You laugh breathlessly, thumb caressing his lower lip. "I guess you rubbed off on me."

His eyes narrow but there's a playful glint in them when he nips at your thumb. You throw a sharp glare his direction, withdrawing the offended appendage back to the safety of your chest. He picks you up and you squeal, kicking your legs and playfully pounding against his shoulder. "I'll show you crazy," he grumbles, making his way towards your little cottage in the woods.

Oh please do.

[dandylovesturtles]

❤️📗👑

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

oh lord idk. uhhhh let's go with stuff I've written recently:

Blue sniffled again. Hiccupped one last time. His tears were drying up, and his little voice said, "S'okay, Daddy."

That's three sentences but whatever my writing style is short and choppy so I'm counting it.

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

I've had ideas. Not sure if I'll ever follow through though haha. I like fanfiction because you're a lot more free in what you can do (which sounds funny because you're working within the constraints of an existing story, but having that foundation already existing means you can go all kinds of places while skipping the setup).

A lot of the original fiction ideas in my head deal in false religions and false gods, and also gay stuff. "bisexual atheist project less challenge, difficulty: impossible"

like a woman who is an attendant to the oracle of the harvest goddess, who becomes quite startled when one night her lady comes to her in a fit and tells her that her visions from the harvest goddess have been a ruse all along and it's true for all the oracles but this time she did get a real vision from a god that isn't even supposed to exist, and suddenly she has to decide what she believes in the midst of a new paradigm where she and her lady are wanted for blasphemy

of the boy who commits a crime in his highly religious underground cult, sheltered in a bunker for 200 years following the nuclear holocaust on the surface above, who is sentenced to take care of the blasphemers who are kept in cells below the colony, where he commits the worst crime of all (talking to the blasphemers) and learns that one of them is locked up for asking dangerous questions like "we didn't harvest enough potatoes from our greenhouse to feed everyone in the colony but if everything is supposed to be dead on the surface than where did the extra potatoes come from"

wow definitely a lot of themes of blasphemy happening here lol

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

I'm a one-shot writer cursed with long fic ideas ;;

Thanks for the ask!

[ls00]

One thing people absolutely do not comprehend about Huey is the "plagiarism" aspect and what actually happened vs what you're led to believe.

Only someone who did not know Granin and his connection with Huey would claim that Huey stole his designs from the Soviets. What Huey did was something both he and Granin planned on doing together under the circumstances that they could, however those circumstances did not come to pass and instead Huey made good on what they had already worked on together on his own.

The issue comes when you consider 1) the era this was set in and the absolutely blasphemous accusations that'd be thrown if it came out Huey worked with Granin and 2) Coldman purposefully giving Huey classified documents that he should not have access to and that call into question his contacts.

It wasnt that Huey stole anything, it was that he was put in a situation where under no reasonable circumstances could he have credited his collaborator and not been absolutely flamed. Regardless of what he did, he was pushed against a wall when Coldman gave him the concrete documents he had already well discussed and had already been promised by Granin.

To act like he was just going around stealing designs (and acting as though he did not contribute in great part to the concept of what makes a metal gear, a fully functional metal gear) is so absurd and it's literally just a low blow against him considering it was impossible for him to in good mind actually source his collaborators and inspirations as they truly were.

He shows remorse and says he had no excuse in Peacewalker but for 1) the documents he used being sealed is a pretty damn good excuse and 2) Big Boss, while wanting him to hold himself accountable for plagiarizing, understood it was for the best and that Huey's part now was to just not do so again and ideally, not get fooled like that again.

Its funny how the biased against him that kind of reading is because again, Metal Gears as they became most useful was a combination of Granin and his design that wouldnt have worked without each other. The reason Metal Gears become as much of a pain in the ass as they are logistically is because they make full use of both Granin and Huey's strength. Without one or the other what you get is something just not nearly as effective.

[monstersdownthepath]

Something I always wondered: Given how hard it is to permakill a Rakshasa or an Asura (especially the latter since outside of GM Fiat it's literally impossible for anyone but another Asura), I'm surprised they aren't more notable in-universe. Given that the Asura's ranks can increase endlessly with no nope of meaningfully permanently culling their numbers, you'd think they'd be a bigger threat, but it seems like the big Three (Demons, Devils, Daemons) are always the movers and shakers.

You'd think so! But asura are kept relatively in-check by infighting, and the fact that their unusual habits often cause them to pause and consider their actions before actually enacting them--sometimes for years at a time. Asura Rana are noted to often be meditating on the nature of creation as to better understand how to undo it... than actually acting on what they know to undo it. Their measures are careful and thorough. Also, since one of their primary methods of enacting their will is to spread heresy, weaken faith, and instill blasphemous beliefs in others, all of which are subtle threats, you're not (as) likely to catch them building some kind of doomsday device that forces the heroic parties to charge at them.

They're more likely to be enlisted by forces more likely to act, like the like-minded Div and Daemons, or used in some way by the Devils.

There's also the fact that, since they live in Hell, they're beholden to Asmodeus' laws. Since Asmodeus wants to rule creation and the asura as a whole want to destroy it, the King of Hell himself has a vested interest in keeping them from doing anything particularly heinous. Or, at the very least, making it take even longer for them to do anything.

Rakshasa, on the other hand, aren't as notable a threat in-universe because they're intentionally designed to be disconnected, relatively small-time fiends. Even the CR 20 Maharaja and the Rakshasa Immortals themselves aren't creating armies to take over the world. Most of them are written to be content with whatever kingdoms they create for themselves, something they share with the similarly small-time personal-satisfaction-focused Oni.

[irkenheretic]

ANYWAY its been a while SO! FUN ANARCHISMA FACT: there's a song thats mostly normal except for ONE lyric that's, let's say, Very Blasphemous. the song was temporarily banned and then a new "approved" version without the offending lyric was released.

some cover artists will perform this song at concerts, as it sounds EXTREMELY conformist without the single offending lyric. HOWEVER some artists will hold the microphone out to the crowd for that lyric, causing some fans to yell the original lyric and some to yell the approved lyric. its impossible to prosecute because a) you cant tell who shouted what, b) you cant just mass execute people for Singing Bad Lyric, and the menial punishment youd get for a mild instance of spreading anti-empire rhetoric is NOT worth tracking down who said what and then accomodating ALL THOSE PEOPLE in jail, and c) the actual singer did nothing wrong because holding the mic out at key moments is a very normal thing to do at a concert

so this creates a situation where if you sing an anarchist song in its entirety, you may or may not be an anarchist. but if you sing the same anaechist song in its entirety except for the actual anarchist part, you're DEFINETLEY an anarchist