#and yeah the formatting seems mostly fine

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]

Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.

For Horrorfest request:

Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)

Word count: 1024ish

notes: yandere, bad decisions

It isn’t fair. It simply isn’t fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair. 

“I didn’t know–” you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing. 

After all, you’ve sold your soul to the devil.

Well, correction. You’ve sold your soul to a devil. 

A devil you hadn’t seen in years, and hadn’t expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time. 

Everything seems simpler, doesn’t it, when you’re not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?

–

“And… all I have to do is sign your book?” 

How weak you must look–how human, how mortal–to the demon standing in front of you. The bandage he’d wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good. 

He’s not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coat–doesn’t it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that you’re soaking in the reality of it all, mostly you’re focused on the book in his hands.

A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them. 

The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs? 

“And agree to make a trade.”

You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone else’s life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesn’t come to that. 

“What… do you want to trade for?” You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistake–and yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.

The demon snorts.

“Didn’t your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?”

“Um.” You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. “Yes. But I just–well.” You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; that’s why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. “I figured it’d be better if you just tell me what you want from me?”

The demon’s gaze narrows. 

“What makes you think I would want something from you, little human?” He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. “How arrogant.”

He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to–

“But there must be something you don’t have,” you blurt out. “Even demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?” Oh, it’s stupid, and unbearably human, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are. 

The demon parts his lips–and then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.

“What an unusual thing to say,” he murmurs.

He’s going to leave. He won’t make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, you’ve done all this for nothing. 

“All right. I’ll make a deal.”

You can’t hide the surprise on your face.

“You-you mean it?” Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. “But–what will you trade for?”

The demon smiles primly. “Something you can’t even feel.  You won’t miss it once it’s gone, I promise you.”

Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesn’t help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you can’t feel and won’t miss… maybe a talent you didn’t know you had? Or one you did, but won’t miss after he’s taken it. You always did like singing, maybe he’ll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or he’ll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.

“Deal!” You blurt. 

He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesn’t have fangs, but that doesn’t make it less unnerving.

The book’s pages glow when he holds them out to you, and they’re warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.

You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.

The book snaps shut.

You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you don’t quite know what it means–

“Chrollo.”

–

You can’t feel a soul, and who knows when it’s gone? Not you, certainly. Though there’s something jittery about the realization that you’ve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.

Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?

All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection. 

“Don’t be so sour with me, dear.” The pet name makes your stomach roil. 

That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like it’s coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.

How hot it must be, where you’re going.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the fine print.” 

[thinking-through-some-things]

Curious about your EPIC rework because I was also disappointed by it

like i mentioned in my other post here (before i gave up), this definitely isn't the only possibility; you could focus the musical around something else. for my version, though...

as i said, i would build the musical around the idea of duty vs desire, and tie that into mercy vs ruthlessness. i think it would focus less on odysseus's guilt overall, which seems to be the real focus of the musical, and focus it more in this direction. still plenty of angst, but a little more pointed.

a lot of my changes probably take the musical further away from the odyssey. i'm actually not too concerned about trying to faithfully follow the source material; i think it's more important to actually tell a coherent story, and when you're abridging the material, you need to cut stuff. just be clear that's what you're doing.

(also i'm not going to cover everything i think needs to be fixed. mostly just elements to support my theme.)

i think it's a given that the saga format doesn't work for the final draft of a musical. no shade, it was a really smart way to gradually release the musical. ultimately though, it limits the story because then they were blocked into sticking with a theme, and you end up with too many epic finale songs... but i'll stick with it to help organize here. i'm just not sticking with a "theme". mostly because i'm getting rid of the wisdom saga to better distribute its songs.

unsurprisingly, i've written far too much and it's poorly organized, so this is just act one. i'll reblog with act two.

act one

overall, i would say act one is by far the stronger of the two. i'm probably going to cut at least 30% of the current act two, but act one mostly just needs editing. some songs might need more work, but mostly they still get to stay in the same place. add some spoken dialogue and you've got a pretty decent start.

the troy saga:

most of the troy stuff is fine. i think it helps to set up this idea of ruthlessness, and shows the peacekeeping side of odysseus. could it be stronger? yeah. but i like it setting this whole thing up. i have 2 main changes here.

1) every time odysseus mentions penelope and telemacus, he needs to mention anticlea. the musical has a bad habit of not introducing characters/elements until they're relevant, and i think it suffers for that. including odysseus's mother in the list of people he wants to get home to makes her death more impactful. i was so confused when she showed up the first time; she needs to be in here from the start.

2) to go with my theme, i would do this: the reason odysseus needs to kill the baby is because the baby would grow up to kill him; however, that doesn't necessarily mean ithaca would suffer. zeus can word it really carefully - i don't think that distinction needs to be immediately clear to the audience, but after you know how the story ends you can go back and realize that when you re-listen to it. this doesn't require much tweaking, but it helps to really set up the idea of making decisions for the greater good vs for selfish reasons (maybe he could have raised the kid? and only he would have died in the end? i want the audience to question this!)

moving into the second half of the saga, i think we need to introduce odysseus's men earlier. maybe a scene of him commanding them in troy? since i'm talking about a full musical instead of the current format, this might just be dialogue, not a song. but i think we definitely need a little more of polites before he dies. i don't really like having odysseus start out untrusting and jumpy, which is how he comes across to me in open arms. it doesn't make sense for this to be a lesson he needs to learn now, after being king of ithaca for well over a decade. originally i was just going to cut him, but my fiance persuaded me to let him stay. plus his death to polyphemus is a very brutal turning point.

instead, i would have a song/scene where we set up eurylochus and polites as odysseus's two advisors, two different sides of his leadership. you could rewrite open arms to fit here. polites argues for presuming peace, and eurylochus views things with suspicion and wants to attack first to keep the men safe. this really helps set up mercy vs ruthlessness. it shows odysseus is already a leader who balances peace and action, and it makes polites's death all the more tragic, because he represents the death of odysseus's inclination towards peace.

finally, i find athena's introduction and focus on being ruthless in this and the next saga confusing. she's mad at him for not being less emotional and more ruthless, but i don't see what that has to do with him being a "warrior of the mind". instead, i would make it clear that she thinks he isn't being cautious enough. she's mad because she thinks he isn't being shrewd, not because he's being nice.

athena and eurylochus should be coming from the same place: we need to be overly cautious and strike first, because that's how you stay safe. and rather than having a jumpy odysseus being taught to trust people by his soft bestie, i think he should be a general, exhausted from fighting for 10 years, jumping on the idea of relying on trust so he can relax and not feel so jumpy. his duty is to balance these two ideas, mercy vs ruthlessness, but because he chooses only mercy without remaining vigilant, polites dies and now he only has eurylochus to give him advice, meaning no one else is trying to suggest mercy. (i don't think eurylochus is bad - actually, he clearly prioritizes the crew and is always suggesting whatever is best for them. but often what is best for you isn't the best for those you come across, which is why it's the leader's job to balance those two things - again, the theme i'm going with in this version.)

anyways, athena needs to focus on pushing odysseus to be more suspicious and calculating, not more ruthless. she scolds him at all the same points, but now it actually makes sense. i don't love their flashback, but i don't have suggestions to fix it, so we'll leave it alone for now.

the cyclops saga

not too many notes here. getting to see the crew more gives it a little more weight (the stage production needs a tiny dialogue scene where you get quips and comments from nobodies so they're a little more recognizable when they die! make people even sadder!), but this is a really chilling series. the exposition bits need rewording (and again, a stage production has the benefit of 1) spoken word, and 2) stage directions so you can just show things happening).

odysseus's convo with athena needs work. as is, this doesn't seem like a good place for "what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use." this is supposed to be the stance athena takes at the end of the musical, but this particular act of mercy seems to lead to the death of most of his men in the very next act - which really makes it weird that athena apparently agrees with that sentiment.

i don't hate everything about this line, especially if we actually see athena ruminating over the line over the next 10 years. but it needs to be clear that it is not mercy but pride that leads to the death of his men. or, if we want to make it about mercy instead of pride, it shouldn't be as the sort of threatening brag that it currently is; instead, frame it as "even now, when we've beaten you, we're still choosing to let you live. because i, odysseus, king of ithaca, have chosen to show you mercy." obviously yes it's still his pride, but then when everyone blames his "mercy" for getting his men killed it makes more sense.

(coming back to really hone in on the idea that mercy isn't the problem here - maybe eurylochus notices something is off before polyphemus starts singing, tries to point it out, and gets brushed off as being too suspicious and bloodthirsty? yet again, i find the musical's stance on mercy confusing. is it good? they seem to want it to be - that's definitely what open arms implies, especially since it gets repeated so often. except the musical stresses that mercy is *why* everything went south here, and it rarely actually shows mercy working. it's confusing. i think this whole thing should feel more like odysseus was reckless, the only thing athena calls him that actually makes sense, and that's why this didn't work. the characters don't need to say it directly, but the musical needs to better frame it that way.)

(an aside, but they still grab sheep on their way out? obviously they're still starving but like. i'm side-eyeing the way everyone (in the musical) acts like he was so "merciful" for leaving polyphemus alive, but even after he learns the sheep are polyphemus's friends and their deaths are what drive him to violence, he still makes a point of stealing and killing them... this isn't a serious criticism i'm just poking fun at it. but hypocritical much?)

athena's anger in my goodbye makes no sense to me - not that she's not justified, but that her reasons make no sense. she calls him "sentimental" and "soft", but that's absolutely not the problem here. she should yell at him for being prideful and cocky. accuse him of sparing polyphemus just to feed his own ego, or of being short-sighted - she mentioned the danger of leaving him alive in the last song, why not bring that up again? why doesn't she scold him for foolishly giving up his name? it's really weird that she keeps harping on the idea that he's "emotional".

odysseus's retort is good, but also a bunch of people just died so it's weird that he's so confident about how right he is. "my friend is dead, our foe is blind. the blood we shed, it never dries" from the last song, and "unlike you, every time someone dies I'm left to deal with the strain" in my goodbye are really good lines. more of his position needs to come from his exhaustion, because odysseus is smart. he's a brilliant general. this does a better job of explaining why he's making so many mistakes early on, and why he's pushing back against athena so hard despite the fact that he just fucked up real bad. he was wrong. he should have acted faster like she warned him to. but making him a man, exhausted from a decade of fighting, desperately trying to grant mercy where he can? his pushback makes more sense.

also, him jabbing at her for wanting "to be known" and being alone? really weird. the musical frames athena as this loser whose only friend was odysseus. i don't get it. especially when you're calling her a goddess who doesn't understand feelings right before that? which is she, a powerful goddess or a lonely girl? stick with him accusing her of not understanding human emotions and interactions. it still gives her a reason to stick around - she can be offended by the insinuation that there's something she doesn't understand, and it gives her a reason to dwell on his comments and eventually change.

the ocean saga

eurylochus needs to call odysseus out; if he'd listened to him, if they'd acted faster against polyphemus, they might not have lost those men, including polites. obviously that might not be true, but it feels like that's what his position should be. it's really weird that they're nervous about the wind god because "your luck might run out" rather than "you did just make a bad call that got people killed". especially when odysseus says "i took 600 men to war and not one of them died there." sure, not there, but you just lost a couple to a cyclops. this more deliberate questioning makes the sidebar with "i can't have you planting seeds of doubt" a little more serious. it's not just "what if you're not lucky," but also "what if you're not as sharp? what if you're making mistakes and bad calls?" the luck thing works for the rest of the crew, but eurylochus's role in this musical is to question odysseus and challenge him as a leader, to make sure odysseus is doing what will keep the men safe.

eurylochus questioning odysseus more pointedly makes the betrayal in the next song make more sense. we should already have the sense that he's starting to doubt odysseus's judgement. his "luck running out" doesn't really explain why you're doubting him with the wind bag; but if you think he's hiding things or making bad decisions, suddenly it makes a lot more sense. i think the implication in the show is that it's just curiosity, and we don't even hear eurylochus asking about it. now, if we have already established eurylochus is already questioning odysseus's judgement, it's a little less weird when we learn he's the one who opened it.

again, we need a mention of anticlea, and she should sing with penelope and telemacus.

honestly? basic take here but i like ruthlessness. i'm fine with not changing my theme to use a better word because this one is a banger. and the one animatic with him as a creepy horse? more horse poseidon imagery, please.

i think poseidon needs to call out specifically how hypocritical odysseus is more. lean into that "false righteousness". the problem is that he isn't being "nice" or "merciful", at least not in those moments, not in how he's currently behaving. most of this interpretation is already there; honestly, just changing the delivery of some of the lines would go a long way. "you are far too nice" needs to have the last word almost spat out - poseidon doesn't actually think odysseus is nice; nice is just a word odysseus is hiding behind to justify his actions. i'm sure it could use more work, but at a glance i really like this one.

it goes without saying that the ending sucks ass though.

i can't imagine anyone thinks that was a good ending. idk how to fix it because the current one is so bad it's hard to think of any way to have something good there. you just can't have the jaunty "open this bag" music in there at all. i know they like to mix in motifs and call back to other songs, but it fucking kills all the momentum in what is otherwise a very dramatic song - and we need to be able to take this song seriously, because it's what the entire rest of the musical is based on. i'm open to a completely different ending, but if you want it to stay relatively close to the current staging: poseidon and odysseus stare each other down. poseidon asks "any last words?" and you think odysseus is about to say something dramatic and instead... he yells "eurylochus!" poseidon is confused, but eurylochus responds with "captain!" and, understanding what he's asking for, throws odysseus the wind bag (he helped odysseus close it, so maybe he got it then, or at some other point, idk). and then odysseus opens the bag in poseidon's face. then everything poseidon does is the same, the effect is the same, you just don't get the musical equivalent of a wet pool noodle slapped across your face.

the circe saga

first! an addition! the musical wants athena to be a foil to odysseus, but they do such a poor job of exploring her character or logic at all, it just doesn't work. her character revolves way too much around odysseus. she says goodbye, and then we see her 4 sagas later (half the musical) where, apparently, she's decided odysseus was right because... maybe if she'd agreed with him they would still be friends. and then she defends everything he's done... look, i'm getting rid of god games, so i won't go into that now. yeah, odysseus is still what prompts her to change her mind in my version, but he's just the start of that journey. she's going to have other reasons. i want to add in a couple songs throughout the musical, just to show the transition a bit. additionally, they can help show time passing in odysseus's story by breaking it up a bit.

this first song is a small one. it's just telling us what athena is thinking and what she's going to do. it's basically her mopey and angry that odysseus insulted her. but she's a goddess of wisdom and intellect, so she's kind of intrigued - maybe there is something to learn about leading with kindness. i haven't decided how she ends up back in ithaca, but she's decided to investigate this. i know the popular (not academic, more fandom-related) interpretation of greek gods is that they're all stubborn and that's the whole point, but for the sake of this story and the theme (and also the character), i think athena should take the stand that if there is wisdom to be gained, it is her duty to learn it. again, this one is pretty short - a verse of angry, and then she talks herself down, and then she's setting out to investigate - a little bit to learn something new, maybe a little bit to prove odysseus wrong.

the athena song can also go at the end of the circe arc. i was going to put another one in there, but the pacing and time line don't match well, and monster is definitely the finale to act one. i wanted to fit something along the lines of the start of the wisdom saga in here, but i think i'm going to put it at the beginning of act two, so. only one extra song for now.

onto the actual saga: i think it's done pretty well. some of the phrasing is awkwardly fit into songs, but that might just be me, and it's overall not egregious. i will confess that "she had us in just two words" "come inside" "damn" does make me giggle every time like a 12-year-old boy. i didn't mention it in my post on the musical's women because i don't think the text directly addresses it, but there's a definite implication that circe is as harsh as she is to protect her nymphs from sexual assault, which they might have faced before. removing the undertones of that from her relationship with odysseus was the right call - i don't think that's a conversation this musical actually wants to have, and it muddles her justification for how she handles the men.

circe is also gives us someone to compare odysseus's leadership to; she's basically the only other leader of a cohesive group that we see. her harsh policy stands in direct contrast to odysseus's earlier choice to start with unchecked "mercy". in turn, her nymphs are safe. we see her later learn that there are times where you can extend mercy and trust, so she even has character growth. (you could make a very interesting comparison between circe & her nymphs and the sirens, but that's a discussion for outside of the musical, so i'll leave it for now.) i wouldn't be surprised if other people have criticisms, i just haven't been able to find basically any critical discussion of the musical, so.

you could mostly leave this saga alone, but i'm inclined to take my red pen and make some bigger changes. i'm just not sure how to. i really don't like hermes and the flower being inserted here - again, i think there's too much bloat in the musical of "oh here's a thing that's in this specific bit, clearly just because that's what happens in the odyssey, and then we won't talk about it again." hermes does appear in two songs, but actually, does he need to? i'm of the opinion that the musical needs fewer characters so that it can better focus on developing the ones that actually need to be in here. the only problem is that odysseus needs the flower from hermes to explain why he has magic in the next song. okay, so what if no magic is used, and he just uses his wit to convince her? except that's basically what the plot of the next song is. so at this point i've basically gotten rid of two songs and completely changed the third, and that doesn't really work. or need to happen.

i stand by wanting to remove hermes. i think you can just give odysseus some line to eurylochus about having heard about a plant on these islands that makes one immune to being transformed by magic for a time. i don't think it's important - it's literally a small, one-time detail just to explain why circe doesn't immediately turn him into a pig. he doesn't need magic in done for - he can just fight with a sword while circe is slinging spells at him. and then you can still go into there are other ways.

the one change that i think does need to be made is that odysseus needs to spend a year on the island. he needs to be stuck here. it does mean you have to basically cut the song in half, but that just means the second part, where circe decides to help odysseus, needs to be a reprise. i think you have circe trying to seduce odysseus, and then she's shocked when he rejects her. the difference is that he doesn't fully win her over; instead, she decides to give him and the rest of his crew one year. for one year, his remaining crew recovers on the island and rebuild the ship, helping the nymphs with whatever tasks they ask and basically proving "not all men" are terrible. finally, odysseus shows that there's payoff to being a merciful leader! he saves all of his men! as they're finally preparing to leave, penelope shows up, we get the reprise, and she sends them to the underworld. all is well!

the underworld saga

or, all is not well.

this is where i spell out my theme: while a good leader is merciful, mercy takes time. and that extra time can be detrimental to personal goals.

this is why it's important to mention anticlea earlier, and why the crew spends an extra year on circe's island trying to save the rest of the men. taking a year to save his men makes odysseus a good leader, yes, but it might have cost him a chance to see his mother before she died. it doesn't matter when she actually died in the odyssey - what matters is that this is really what makes odysseus question the cost of mercy. this is where he starts to put his own desires over the safety of the crew, because the cost of taking too long is suddenly real - as is the cost of taking time to be merciful.

i actually don't have too much to add. some edits might need to be made to fit with other changes, but overall it's fine.

okay, there's act one! this is definitely long enough, so i'll reblog with act two. suggestions and conversation are welcome; again, my fiance already changed my mind on one part. i haven't actually see any discussion on changes yet, so i'm happy to consider other changes, or for mine to be challenged (by something other than "actually this is perfect").

[beazt]

I need some full post formatting and to give a synopsis not hidden in replies cause I am SHAMELESS about sharing any predictions or thoughts I have (and think tumblr might have eaten some of my replies) but a lot of this is bouncing off of discussion with @toastling so major shoutout (but no pressure to check out this long ass post lol)

long deltarune theory/prediction discussion, major spoilers and speculation ahead

(asriel + ralsei focus with consistent themes of grief)

disclaimer for people (mostly non-mutuals) who may join the discussion via this post: I have not completed the chapter 4 snowgrave continuation! I do not know what I do not know. discussing the spoilers with me is perfectly fine rn but if you say something that happens in that route without detail, I may not realize you are telling me an actual clear canon point if it blends in with your theorizing from my perspective. nothing wrong with that, I think it’s an interesting way for me to go into my theorizing before I get caught up. I haven’t sought much to read yet until I catch up, but loving discussion with where im at. I just wanna clear up that misunderstanding before it happens

Hypothesis: Roaring Knight = Asriel (or Dess!) aka: reflections and foils oooo shiny

this is perhaps my most scandalous speculation. I don’t want to call it a theory, none of my proof is solid, and I don’t believe in it enough to call it a prediction yet. But it’s a potential path, and no matter what foreshadowing we pick up there will always be twice as much we couldn’t have known until hindsight. idc how much of a stretch a theory is. if it’s fun or clever then hell yeah

my evidence is at least as weak as any other, I have a handful of coincidences and a dream to differentiate it from other ralsei or roaring knight theories that may fit better. but. I have been trying to figure out the deal with ralsei as im sure everyone has. what is his tie to asriel yknow? and when, what, where, is asriels role in deltarune??

Foundational sub-theory 1: Ralsei is *a* Dark **World** representation of Asriel.

semantics highlight: I also don’t think he is Asriel’s only dark world representation. I am convinced that Ralsei is not of typical/accepted darkner origin. When describing darkner/dark world lore, he often says things along the lines of “and that applies to me, too.” He may be a darkner, but I don’t fully believe that he always was, or that he was….. created? in the same way. He is a prince, and the King and Queen we’ve encountered in the dark world are of no relation.

Unless, of course, one of the Holiday family is the princess in question. Probably not Noelle, as she seems far too intertwined with Susie. Dess and Asriel keep showing up together when Kris and Noelle show up together, but not much else other than dialogue and Deep Lore™ (what im calling things that take some deducing and are not confirmed the exact significance of/unresolved). They’re definitely contrasted in some ways there. Dess and Asriel are definitely close.

Much to Toriel’s displeasure, characters have discussed Asgore having what could be seen as an affair with Carol, Noelle’s mom. The king of spades… lancer’s dad, is obviously a king, as is Asgore, and they are visually similar. Asgore is goofy and large, so is King of Spades. He also comes barreling in, wrecking things, homewrecker.

Thinking of how Noelle always says “Kris, I know this is one of your pranks! Kris, quit pranking us!” And Lancer’s always goofing off, I think Lancer is genuinely representative of Kris. From one of the Holiday’s perspective. Also the name Lancer… Susie asks kris if they are always carrying that knife. I wonder if they did tend to carry pointy things throughout youth.

Lancer also refers to a “lesser dad” that is trying to push himself into a polycule, is scrawny, not super liked, trying really hard to be as important as the people he is surrounded by, and still a fatherly figure to Lancer. Rudy Holiday shares letters with Rouxls Kaard and he is a jokester that has a wife with very strict rules.

Cyber queen would therefore be representative of Carol Holiday. Queen because she has a big ego, big head, and strict rule. She also tries to steal Noelle away from her friends, but is somewhat alright with Berdly sorta maybe. The cyber world chapter is also where Noelle entered deltarune so significantly between being the princess to be saved.

That establishes the King and Queen as some parental and pseudo-parental figures for either Asriel or Dess. And I do believe the dark world/dark fountain representations we experience in chapters 1 and 2 are reflected from a Holiday’s light world perspective, in general. And this could be from Dess’s perspective, if she is the roaring knight creating dark fountains. It could also be Noelle’s, as she has a grand role to play in the story that isn’t fully revealed (especially to me.) ….And I do think some dark world things can be influenced by player soul possession stuff and individualized perception in real time after the fountain is created. but that’s a can of worms too squirmy for even this post

Foundational sub-theory 1, clarification: Ralsei is the Dark World representation of (Attachment To) Asriel.

By that I mean, probably a manifestation of either Kris’s pure intangible attachment to Asriel, or an item/plushie that becomes Kris’s mental image of Asriel in the Dark World. I do think it is possible, but increasingly unlikely, that Ralsei is the real Asriel stuck in the dark world. This one doesn’t get juicy on its own so let’s move on

Foundational sub-theory 2, the foundening: The prophecy ends with the Prince dying.

I haven’t seen the end of the prophecy yet, have you? I saw Susie smash it. I also saw a shitton of Ralsei trying to prevent her from seeing it. I also saw Ralsei beg for everyone to not worry about him and to let him take the pain let him be the one to get hurt. I don’t think that’s just because he’s a soft healer boy. I think that’s because he knows what’s coming. And he knows he’s the prince.

But…. What if there is another prince, and that prince is Asriel?

Sub theory 2 again, wording revised: The prophecy has one ending: the prince will KILL OR BE KILLED.

Sub theory 3: Ralsei will die at the hands of Asriel, or vice versa. A prince will kill, and a prince will be killed.

Sub theory 3 remix edition so it’s technically a different album theory: Either Ralsei or Asriel must die at the hands of the other.

Sub theory 4 with an apology note and a bouquet: Ralsei will be killed (by Asriel), as a true or non-true ending.

This is the most important piece to the entire rest of the theory. It will show up throughout the rest of this post. This is the piece that sets motives and takes personalities and foreshadowing and plot loose ends, if there is any subtheory in this that does. Therefore the rest of the subtheories are dissecting this.

Consideration because it doesn’t fit the linear number scheme: Unfortunate.

Carol, Asgore/maybe Toriel, and Undyne probably know what happened to Dess at the precipitating event of the storyline, which was not shown. There is no reason to believe that Asriel doesn’t know, and it’s unclear if he actually left for college. I do think he is stuck in the dark world situation with Dess… as the roaring knight. Not getting into how he became the roaring knight yet because I don’t know. Or what that transformation would imply about universal laws, or what the roaring knight means.

Sub(stitute) theory 5: Ralsei will not be targeted by Asriel, but rather, be killed by his brotherly image being shattered in Kris’s mind.

If Ralsei is a representation of asriel’s care and guidance and companionship even in his absence, Kris seeing their brother as the roaring knight that is destroying their world and taking everyone away will cast doubt, anger, betrayal, towards Asriel’s memory. When this perception of Asriel exists, Ralsei cannot— and will be killed or shifted to reflect the new perception. I think the roaring knight attacking Ralsei is quite possible, but not the most likely. I think Ralsei will be killed in the way an optical illusion is broken. In the way that him “not being real” can never be unlearned. And this may mean actual death for a darkner.

I think this shattering can reflect whatever happened to Asriel— that he didnt go to college, and that was a lie kris told themselves… something bad happened.

I think beyond that point, Asriel will get spared. But the roaring knight won’t. I think Ralsei being the horse in the westerns in TV TIME is related to Asriel being the knight. Or at least, part of the knight. I think the Roaring (K)night took Asriel away, and covered him in darkness. I think the roaring knight itself is that darkness and asriel is trapped in the same entity. The knight is being carried around by Asriel in a vessel/horse symbolism way.

And Kris will have to kill the Knight, and face the truth of whatever happened to Asriel. The perception of a studious quiet nerd lines up with how Kris might imagine Asriel at college, specifically. Ralsei will stay dead, as the illusion hiding all the darkness Kris could not face. Or…

Supertheory 6, ᴴᶦᵍʰ Quality™: the roaring knight defeats everyone until the plotline more immediate to undertale.

Flowers bloom from Ralsei’s death. Kris’s light shines down on where the flowers grow. The ruin walls are the color of Susie, who tried to protect him, too.

But the roaring knight had already impacted the image of Asriel. There was a seed of doubt, a seed of evil, that grows into Flowey. A little of Asriel’s image, but mostly the darkness of the roaring knight. A little of Ralsei’s knowledge, about determination and saving and the prophecy and asriel, taken by the knight as a way to exploit the world.

Let me be clear: I do not think Flowey is evil Ralsei, or that Ralsei is evil. I think Ralsei being composed of perceptions of Asriel, mostly died, except for that seed of doubt on whether he was good or evil.

And fighting Flowey/Asriel, in the true pacifist run, is the souls from deltarune coming together to finally beat the Knight’s control over Asriel and his memory. Asriel’s memory goes back to the flowers, which I’m assuming is where parts of Asriel’s memory stay. No longer violent, any of them.

there’s also yellow flowers in the sword route that shoot and one split in half in the normal board, I think that distinctly references flowey and that half of flowey is from the dark world and half from the light. The dark half is not seen in the sword route. The dark half is missing because the roaring knight is not part of flowey yet or smth. hadn’t gotten that far with that part of the theory yet lmao

I also think the “it’s me, your best friend” line is directly channeling Ralsei (the illusion of asriel being okay). And that the song “Hopes and Dreams” playing during Asriel’s fight is referring to the hopes and dreams of Asriel being okay, of the prophecy not coming true

I think this dialogue from Toriel in the asriel fight will come to hold a double meaning of letting Asriel or the player leave at expense of Kris

And I think this is all the proof necessary to say that the roaring knight is present in the asriel fight, if not one of the major forces posing as asriel:

Endtheory?: The roaring knight contains every soul of the underground at this point, and Ralsei is in there. He takes the form of Ralsei, for dramatic/dark world perception shenanigans/prophecy reasons.

Ralsei begging to take all the pain, because he is Asriel’s image- he can take it, even if Kris doesn’t believe that. But Ralsei, through his dark world adventures with Kris, became Real and Distinct from Asriel. The memory of Ralsei as his own character makes Ralsei real in his own right, by dark world rules

“I’ll reduce all your memories to zero, and we’ll do it over, and over, and over again”

Starting Deltarune after already knowing the end.

“And we’ll do it again and again and again!”

Having to play all the routes to know the story

That you have to put through hell, murder, and genocide to understand everything that came before this moment.

“Every time you die, your friends forget you a little more” is asriel speaking from experience and the fragments of his memory being spread across so many characters

“Within the depths of Asriel’s soul, something’s resonating…!” hence the WiFi signal symbol I made a freaked out I KNOW THAT SYMBOL post about

I am convinced this is Kris’s voice, speaking up for the first time where we can hear, directly to the red heart. That Kris is the last one we need to save.

with a missing heart on their chest and their hands, which is where the player would be most symbolically represented in Kris. the chest for obvious anatomical and character sprite reasons, and the hands are where actions are done

and Kris sees another human for what seems like the first time… and says “youre not really Chara. what’s your name?” and recognizes that the player is inside Frisk too, but that Frisk probably does not know that. the player is Chara all along. the player is the only other human Kris knows, before Frisk, if Kris knows the player is a human

I’m still shaky on so many things about this theory. and I probably will be until a while after the final chapter releases. I’m shaky on if Asriel, through all those layers, is the reason we play: to learn all about who he is, who he was, and keep his memory alive. I’m shaky on if Asriel himself is real, or got fragmented up, and I had to make some leaps over anticipated plot gaps.

but June is a heavy grief month for me. June 13, yesterday, is a major grief anniversary for me. And I spent the whole night thinking about how Ralsei is a way of keeping Asriel’s memory alive and thinking about my own grief. and learning about him even though we never got to see when he was alive… but maybe that’s one of the many points. that remembering him is enough to keep him alive. that his memory will always be there in the dark. that pursuing happiness is okay, even if it’s without him. that he doesn’t want kris to be hurt, or hurt others.

and as the players, we have to do that, we have to find all the memories about him and piece them together, and we will keep hope and dreams alive with him as the symbol of them. and I think Asriel is also the most reflective character of the player heart, and his story might be tied into the “despite everything, it’s still you” mirrors

I’m open to people discussing inaccuracies and whatever in this theory and any level of spoilers I just ask that if you made it this far in the post to be kind as it does touch into grief a lot, and I think there are many lenses and interpretations, I think that’s a perk of toby using so many motifs to connect everything in such complex ways. but this one aspect of the story gripped me all night until I processed it this far

[brodygold]

Twelve Days of Christmas: Day Eleven

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: eleven pipers piping.

The streets of the city were alive with excitement. The Golden Army’s Christmas parade was in full swing, and crowds had gathered to watch the golden-clad performers march under a cascade of twinkling lights and snowflakes. Alex and Michael stood near the front of the crowd, sipping cocoa from holiday-themed cups.

Alex, bundled in a brown coat with a vibrant rainbow scarf, was practically vibrating with excitement. “I told you this would be amazing! Did you see the flag dancers earlier? They were incredible!”

Michael, dressed in a red sweater and a simple gray scarf, chuckled at Alex’s enthusiasm. His calm demeanor stood in stark contrast to Alex’s boundless energy. “Yes, Alex, you’ve mentioned it twice now. But yeah, they were pretty good.”

“‘Pretty good’? Michael, they twirled those flags in perfect unison, and did you see the flips they pulled off? Insane!” Alex gestured animatedly, nearly spilling his cocoa.

Michael reached out instinctively to steady Alex’s hand. “Okay, okay, you’re right. They were spectacular. Happy?”

“Always.” Alex grinned and leaned closer, his nose brushing Michael’s cheek. “And you’re loving this too. Admit it.”

Michael sighed but smiled. “Fine. I’m enjoying myself. But mostly because you’re happy.”

“Good answer,” Alex teased. His eyes lit up as the next section of the parade approached. “Oh, look! The dancers! Those gold jackets are so sharp!”

Michael took a sip of his cocoa and looked down the street. “I’ll give you that one. Those coordinated moves are impressive. Almost regal.”

“They’re perfect. If I ever joined a parade, I’d want a uniform like that,” Alex said dreamily.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Parade life, huh? I don’t know if you could handle the discipline. All those rehearsals and rules…”

Alex nudged him playfully. “Oh, please. I could march circles around you.”

“Sure you could.” Michael smirked. He glanced at the nearby restroom. “Speaking of circles, I need to step away for a minute. Too much cocoa.”

Alex laughed. “Well, I’ll be right here. Don’t get lost.”

Michael rolled his eyes but smiled warmly. “That’s my line. Don’t wander off, Alex.”

“Me? Never,” Alex said with mock seriousness.

Michael kissed him on the cheek before heading toward the restroom, leaving Alex alone to soak in the parade.

As Alex turned back to the festivities, the “eleven pipers piping” segment began. A group of performers in golden suits marched forward, their instruments gleaming. The melody they played was unlike anything Alex had ever heard—an intricate, haunting tune that seemed to resonate deep within him.

He blinked, feeling a strange pull in his chest. His playful smile faded as the music grew louder, more insistent. His feet shuffled forward without him realizing it.

Around him, others in the crowd began to move too. Men of all ages stepped into the street, their eyes glazed over. The music seemed to call only to them, compelling them forward like moths to a flame.

Alex tried to resist, but the melody was overpowering. His body felt weightless, his mind foggy. Each note seemed to strip away a piece of him—his thoughts, his memories, his very sense of self.

As the pipers’ music swelled, the transformation began. Alex’s clothes shimmered and dissolved, replaced by a skintight golden rubber suit that clung to his newly muscular frame. The number 142 appeared on his chest, glowing softly as his face smoothed into a blank, featureless mask.

Beside him, other men were undergoing the same changes, their identities erased by the hypnotic tune. Together, they fell into perfect formation, their faceless heads tilting in unison as they awaited their next command.

When Michael returned a few minutes later, the parade had moved on. The pipers were gone, and so was Alex.

He scanned the crowd, his heart pounding. “Alex?” he called, weaving through the throng. “Alex, where are you?”

There was no response. Michael’s chest tightened as he searched, his voice growing more frantic. “Alex!”

On the ground near where they had stood, he spotted something—a rainbow scarf dusted with snow. He picked it up, his hands trembling. It was Alex’s.

Michael’s eyes darted toward the street, where the distant sound of music lingered in the air. He didn’t know why, but he felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

Far down the parade route, drone 142 marched in perfect step with his new brothers, his former life erased by the hypnotic power of the pipers’ tune. His number glowed brightly, marking him as part of the Golden Army’s unstoppable procession.

And the music played on.

[purefandomonium]

The Lingering Ghost

(Title pending because titles are hard)

Alright even though it's late and I'm tired, I'm really excited to share this! So I'll be posting it here first before I give it one final edit and post it to AO3. I posted some snippets before but here's the entire thing.

I've been wanting to do some kind of horror story w/Initial D for ages and this is the result. It's more angst and bittersweet than true horror, but I still had a ton of fun working on it. It's a little under 5k btw so give yourself some time to hunker down if you do decide to check it out. Also formatting should be ok but I also just copied/pasted it so it's possible something got jumbled somewhere.

Summary: It wasn't uncommon in the world of street racing. People crashed all the time. Curses were shouted, cars fixed up, wallets run dry. Eyes too, sometimes. Stories of crashes were spoken about as often as songs were sung. Usually, though, the stories came from the drivers themselves. They weren't supposed to be told in hushed tones as a warning to other racers who thought themselves too good to wreck. They weren't supposed to end so badly. They sure as hell weren't supposed to happen on Akina.

Iketani slumped against a nearby pump, in part due to the day's heat but mostly from the weight of his gloomy mood. Its surface was covered in dust with a bit of grime, and he internally sighed at the thought of having to wash it and all the others before his shift ended. He drew bored little patterns across the filth. "Man… I haven't felt like hitting the pass at all this past week." The frowning stick man he completed seemed to share his miserable demeanor.

"Same here," Kenji sighed from beside his friend. He kicked a small pebble and watched it ping off a nearby sign. "I don't know what it is but something about the whole thing just has me on edge. I can't stand the thought of being anywhere close to the mountain right now."

"Yeah… Me three." Even Itsuki's usual energy couldn't overcome the heavy air around them as he, too, leaned against one of the pumps in despair. Despite being far from it, Mount Akina's presence seemed to loom right over his shoulder. He felt threatened by his own sanctuary; the ultimate betrayal from what he considered an old friend. It hurt in a way he couldn't describe.

"Wonder how he's holding up." Iketani nodded to Takumi who was finishing with a customer. "Not having a choice in the deliveries and all that. It's gotta be hard on the guy." It would certainly be hell for him, and he'd only driven out there once since it all went down. He couldn't imagine having to be out there every night. Alone. At the mercy of whatever strange force was holding their mountain hostage.

Kenji hummed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I dunno, he seems the same as always. It's hard to tell if it even bothers him or if he's just spaced out as usual." Takumi was a strange one. Hard to read and even harder to get a reaction out of. He looked normal but there was no telling what inner turmoil he may be hiding, if any.

Two sets of curious eyes soon landed on the youngest Speed Star. Itsuki met them both and shrugged in response, not quite as easily excited by the attention as he used to be. "I couldn't tell you what he's thinking," he replied as he shifted his gaze to the approaching Takumi. There was only one way to find out. Standing straight and adding some energy into his voice, he called out, "Hey, man, how you holding up?"

Takumi stopped in his tracks and noted the three sets of eyes fixated on him. He couldn't quite pin it, but they seemed… concerned? "Fine, I guess," came his reply. "It's pretty hot out though." He blinked in confusion as the three idiots he called friends simultaneously groaned. OK, so that was the wrong answer. What was the concern for then if not his health?

"Dude, that's not what Itsuki meant," Iketani sighed, rolling his eyes. Pushing himself up straight and smudging his little dust doodles, he continued, "We're wondering how you feel about the crash on Akina."

A sharp jolt shot through his spine, but he reigned it in before his body could respond to it. His voice was steadier than he felt. "Oh. Well, I feel awful about it, obviously. It's sad." He leaned back as Itsuki shoved himself into his personal space.

"Yeah but… what about all the, y'know…" He glanced around like there were people eavesdropping. Lowering his voice to a whisper despite the lack of paparazzi, he spit out, "The stories?"

"What, about a vengeful ghost or whatever?" He nudged Itsuki away and kept his expression neutral.

"A lot of the guys have been talking about some weird stuff going on since it happened," Iketani supplied. "I thought they were just being paranoid but the one time I went out there…" He shivered despite the oppresive summer heat. Already, goosebumps were dotting his arms at the mere memory. "I can't really describe it, but I got the worst feeling of dread. Like I wasn't supposed to be there and needed to leave immediately." He huffed out a bittersweet laugh. "Imagine that. Chased off my own turf by some invisible force." He absently rubbed at his arms, still feeling a lingering chill.

Takumi mulled the story over in his mind with a quiet hum. He'd been running the deliveries like usual and while there had been an odd sense of something, nothing had ever come from it. He was pretty sure what he'd been feeling the past several days had been nothing more than discomfort at the whole situation.

Not that they needed to know that.

Keeping his voice in its usual deadpan, he said, "Sorry to disappoint you guys, but I haven't noticed anything. Driving on Akina has been the same as always." Same corners, same speed, same road. Nothing had changed. Nothing except for one unfortunate spot.

"Bah! That ghost probably doesn't want anything to do with a boring person like you anyway," Itsuki shouted, forgetting about the imaginary spies from just moments ago.

"Or maybe," Takumi began, flicking his best friend on the forehead, "there is no ghost and you guys are just being weird."

"Normally, I'd agree with you, Takumi," Kenji said as he crossed his arms. "But this is…" He glanced in the direction of Akina and grimaced before turning away from the distant titan. "I don't know, something really does seem off out there. The other Speed Stars all have some wild stories. Don't you think it's strange that so many people are agreeing on this?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged and went to head inside to cool off for a minute, ignoring their combined chagrin at his nonchalance. He could really use some water and a nap right now. It was unfortunate that he'd be allowed only one of those things.

***

Having finished the deliveries, his run down the mountain was no different than the countless other times he'd raced home. It was the same as always, just like he'd told the others earlier. The familiar road blurred beneath the Eight–Six, headlights the only things cutting through the darkness of Akina. There was only one thing that stood out amongst the shadows, revealed by the Trueno's yellow-white glare.

The words of his friends echoed through his mind as he slowed to a stop and stared at the only remaining signs of wreckage. The engine's soft purring did nothing to soothe the sudden wave of emotion that hit him, so much stronger than it had ever been before.

The guardrail was still twisted and deformed—far worse than when Iketani had wiped out—and its silver sheen was marred with scrapes and oil. Caution tape fluttered about, a pitiful barrier between life on the road and death on the side of the mountain. Fragments of plastic and glass twinkled like they were stars embedded in the earth. The emergency workers had missed a fair bit of debris, or perhaps they would get the rest of it once the guardrail was replaced.

Somehow, even though he hadn't been present to witness it, he could hear the jarring sound of the impact, of metal shrieking and plastic crunching. The sharp echo of breaking glass rang in his ears as his imagination played out the scene against his will. In his mind's eye, he watched the car hit the guardrail and shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. The headlights were first to erupt in an explosion of glass. The front end crumpled as the windshield formed a network of cracks before giving way and sending shrapnel into the cabin. The force that bent the guardrail into its horrid shape would no doubt have been enough to cause the interior of the car to shrink. If it somehow wasn't, well, the jagged cliff face would take care of that.

With a gasp, Takumi blinked the terrible vision out of his mind before it could show him what the driver must have felt like.

The driver who had been declared as unsalvageable as the car was. Loaded up and taken away in something better than a weathered tow truck, but loaded up and taken regardless. It was no wonder the guys were so shaken up by the whole thing. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely unbothered by it either. Every time the gruesome scene flickered past his headlights he felt the cold grip of dread squeeze his insides. He hated that feeling.

It wasn't like he could avoid driving on Akina though. The deliveries weren't gonna run themselves, and they'd sooner do exactly that before his dad would bother.

Really, he wasn't sure what about it was getting to him. The road had been scrubbed of oil and the tiny fragments of a broken vehicle were the only things left behind. Well, them and the destroyed guardrail, of course. He'd been spared the worst of the details—not counting the ones his mind unhelpfully supplied whenever he least expected. Aside from the grim melancholy of his friends, there was nothing tying him to this depressing turn of events. Some people liked to race on dark mountain roads, bad things were always possible, and there was nothing to be done about either.

Despite the fatigue gnawing at him and willing him to get home and sleep as much as he could before school, Takumi found himself stepping out of the Eight–Six. Without its refuge he was left at the mercy of the chilling breeze. There was nothing he could have done, nor could do, that would make any of this better. Yet he felt compelled to do something anyway. Perhaps it was because it happened on Akina. He continued to deny he was a street racer, but he did consider this his mountain. In a way. He'd been driving it for years, no one knew it better than him. So far anyone who tried to prove they could drive it better than him ended up losing.

He sucked in a heavy breath as it hit him. Was that it? Was this feeling… some kind of guilt? Whoever it was that crashed hadn't been local. That was the first thing he learned about all this. The second had been that they weren't the most experienced racer. Any further detail than that—like who they raced with or even who they were—was a mystery to him and probably for the better. He wouldn't know what to do with that information anyway. Send his regards? No.

He sighed and stepped closer to the mangled sheet metal, hand hovering over it. The Eight–Six murmured behind him, the only sound in the quiet static. He stood there for several—seconds? Minutes?—before mustering up the courage to rest his hand on the railing's cold surface, at the last spot before it became a misshapen mess. He sniffled and couldn't tell if it was from the cold or something else.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into the silence. His fingers tightened against the guardrail as he stood there wondering what in the hell he was doing. He'd driven past this same spot every night for the past week and never felt compelled to do… whatever this was. Still, he was already out here. Might as well commit.

"I, uh, I know that saying sorry doesn't really change anything but…" Dammit. What was he trying to do here? Apologize to someone who was already dead? Whose death had nothing to do with him? He sniffled again and realized the weather wasn't the culprit. It was the middle of summer. It should only be slightly below stifling right now. Yet out here, silhouetted by the warm glow of the Eight–Six, his skin felt cold and prickly. Goosebumps. Maybe there was some truth behind Iketani's ghost story after all.

Takumi let his hand fall from the guardrail and turned back the panda Trueno, the stark white of its paint the only other thing standing out against Akina's darkness. There was no whispering of leaves in the wind, no insects making their grating calls, nothing but empty silence punctuated by the still-idling engine. The goosebumps returned full-force as he froze in place.

Standing beside the red glow of the Eight–Six's taillights was a lone figure. It looked to be about his height—the same age too, by assumption—and that was all he could make out. The shadows clung to them like a cloak.

Takumi swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he stared at the entity. "Hello?" He was met with silence. The shadowy mass remained motionless, seeming to stare right through him. Without thinking about the risks of turning away, he craned his neck to glance at the site of the wreck once more. Noting a lack of changes, he swiveled his gaze back to the eerie figure who still hadn't moved.

Their silent staring contest went on for another uncomfortable few moments before Takumi worked up the nerve to try speaking to them again. He took a couple of steps closer and when nothing happened, he spoke up. "Are you… the one who died here?" He winced. Of all the things to say to a potential ghost, the first thing out his mouth was questioning if they were dead? Brilliant. It would be a miracle if he survived this encounter.

That unnerving silence still hung in the air as what Takumi assumed was their head dipped down once in a simple nod.

His lips formed a silent 'oh' as though the answer weren't already obvious. As his mind processed what to say next, he blinked once only to stumble back in shock at its sudden proximity. He lost his footing and landed on the dusty pavement as the ghost loomed before him, mere steps away. Even with the headlights shining against its back, it remained shrouded in pure darkness. The shadows of its body seemed to swallow the light whole, a hungry abyss. The air around it was still and icy, like that of a frozen lake. Aside from its humanoid figure there was nothing else separating it from the dark night around them.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if dying meant erasing who you were somehow. He shoved the thought away before he could really question it. Lying vulnerable in the dirt before a potentially angry spirit was a bit more important than a mortality crisis.

His own shadow began to pool in wisps around him and a bolt of panic made his stomach drop and his heart lurch. The smokey tendrils tickled his skin like electrified feathers as they danced along his arms and hands. His throat was tight and he didn't know if it was the spirit's doing or his own primal fear. He remained rigid, helpless to the supernatural force before him.

Before the tears that had been welling up could start running, the shadows that were lapping at his hands and legs slithered away to the ghost. They flowed and swayed around its feet with wild movements, like a writhing octopus.

Takumi blinked back the wetness and realized the misty darkness was shaping itself into words. Slowly, as if it took great effort, a sentence was formed.

Why are you here?

He didn't know the answer to that question. How could he answer that question? As the sheer panic he'd been feeling dissipated—gradually, because this was still an unknowable entity before him—Takumi felt his shoulders lifting in a half-hearted shrug.

The ghost tilted its head, clearly just as lost and confused about all this as Takumi.

He found his words after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I, uh, I guess I'm here because I feel really bad about what happened." And he really, truly did. The thought that this could have been him in his early days of deliveries hadn't escaped him. "Uh… Lots of people feel terrible about what happened." The shadows twisted before him once more.

Why? It's not your fault.

Now that it was clear the dead racer meant no harm, Takumi slowly stood and dusted himself off to stall for time to process. His eyes locked onto the ghost once he felt his heart rate return to normal. The abyss that was its face seemed to swirl and twist like a smoky whirlpool, and he found himself almost entranced before snapping to his senses after too many moments. His gaze then drifted to the crash site beside them, illuminated by the Eight-Six. "I know it's not my fault. But still." He turned back to the ghost, careful not to get lost in the inky blackness once more. He found focusing on the harsh lights of the car to be good at preventing that.

"I've been driving here for years. My dad owns a tofu shop and I run the deliveries to the hotel." He scratched the back of his head as something like fondness bubbled up. It was strange. "I kind of consider Akina my second home, so something like this happening has me shaken up."

I see. I appreciate your honesty.

What an odd thing to say. Then it clicked. His eyes widened. "Wait. Have you tried talking to people before?" It would line up with all the creepy stories his friends and the other racers were talking about. Some of them had mentioned that it seemed like the 'Dead Racer of Akina', or whatever they were calling it now, had tried to communicate with them.

Most of the people I wanted to talk to ran from me, the shadows spelled. Their movement was becoming sluggish now; it took longer and longer for them to form words. I tried to catch up to them but they were too fast. I never was a very good racer.

The ghost's 'shoulders' bounced like it was laughing. Then it stilled again.

I thought I could use the practice, but now I can't even form my car.

I think it's getting harder for me to stay here, but I don't want to go.

It's not fair.

Takumi's heart clenched. He wasn't sure if there was an afterlife, and he wasn't keen on finding out anytime soon. He could relate to the ghost's fear and anger about being left behind and doomed to an uncertain future more than he cared to admit.

I was able to talk to a couple people like this, the shadows offered to the silence. But they were more interested in the gruesome details of my death than anything else.

It made me angry.

Now it all made sense. The ghostly car chases, the heavy feeling of dread, the anger the mountain seemed to radiate to anyone who dared drive it. All except for Takumi. It was weird how he was spared from all of that.

I know who you are.

A sound of surprise escaped his throat. Was his mind being read? Before he could question it, the shadows had already shaped the answer.

I came out here that night because I was hoping to race you.

I didn't expect to win. But I didn't think I'd lose my life either.

The guilt boiled over and before he could stop them, the words were pouring out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry! I know I didn't ask you to come out here but I didn't want this to ever happen. I never wanted to be famous like this. I just wanted to get home as fast as possible to sleep! I-"

It's OK.

The words presented themselves right in front of his face, cutting off his rambling. Takumi felt the warmth sliding down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold back the tears. There was something strangely comforting in the ghost's words even though they were never spoken. It was as though the shadows emitted more emotion than a voice ever could.

Speaking of shadows, he noticed the way the Eight-Six's light seemed to cut through them now. The darkness was no longer absorbing the light. It seemed whatever hold the dead racer had on this reality was slipping.

The ghost sensed this as well, as it stated, I know there's a lot you want to say but I don't have time.

All he could manage was a pathetic nod as he wiped away tears.

I don't know what happens now but I have a favor to ask you.

Will you race me?

Takumi's jaw nearly fell open. "After… everything… you still want to race me?"

It's the only reason I came out to Akina after all.

'Please allow me a proper sendoff,' was unspoken. Takumi didn't know who this person's family was but he could only hope they gave them a formal goodbye. It was obvious now that none of the racers on Akina had bothered to pay any respects; they were either too scared or too callous. Who would he be to deny their final request?

I don't expect to win, the shadows revealed, mistaking Takumi's hesitance as something other than realization. I just want to do the thing I died trying to do.

"…OK." Nothing more needed to be said. He'd give the ghost what it wanted, make it home in time to catch some sleep, and lay awake all night hoping the dead racer finally found peace.

Takumi's legs carried him past the ghost to the Eight-Six, mind alight with too many thoughts once more. He fell into the seat, the suspension creaking in response. As he shut the door, he looked up to where the phantom shadow had been standing only to find it gone. A glance in his rearview revealed a semi-solid mass of car behind him. A… 3000GT, Iketani had told him shortly after the accident. It wasn't the blinding white it had been pre-crash; it was comprised of total darkness just like its owner.

There were no lights on it but the red glow of his brakes confirmed it was there. He didn't need to be told to give it his all. Anything less would be downright disrespectful. Putting it into gear, the Eight-Six crawled away from the side of the road and began gaining speed. The ghostly car behind him lit up once more in his rearview as he hit the first corner, only to vanish into darkness again as he barreled away.

Three corners was all it took for him to no longer feel the presence behind him. He didn't know if it was because of the gap he'd made or if they'd finally lost their hold on the world of the living. It didn't matter. At least they'd gotten their final wish.

Takumi drove home feeling oddly lighter.

***

"It's so weird," Iketani said to a wide-eyed Itsuki. "I finally worked up the nerve to confront this ghostly pressure keeping me away from Akina, and it's just… gone. Like it was never even there." It had been just over a week and it was still all he could think about. After all that time being afraid, he'd gone out the previous night and had a completely normal drive.

"Maybe you guys were buying into that ghost stuff a little too much," came Yuichi as he exited the station with the intent to scold them for standing around.

"You don't understand, boss," Iketani argued as he whirled around. "I felt it! I couldn't make up that feeling if I wanted to."

He let out a disbelieving hum. "Not even if you were listening to a bunch of hogwash that got you all worked up before you even set foot out there?"

The leader of the Speed Stars deflated. "I know what I felt when I went out there a few days ago," he mumbled as he crossed his arms.

"I believe you," Itsuki said. He hadn't been out there at all since the crash due to the stories he'd been told, but that didn't change the fact he believed every single one. He didn't need to be out there to sense the creepy pressure warning him to stay away.

Iketani sighed. "Yeah, nothing screams believable like you of all people having my back."

The younger balked. "Hey I'm trying to help you, man!"

"Will you two quite goofing around and get back to work? Takumi's the only one who's got any semblance of sense right now, and that's saying something." The latter was spoken quietly so as not to catch his attention, though it wouldn't have mattered.

Takumi was lost in thought yet again, though this time it wasn't one of his usual dilemmas. He was distracted by what it meant to become a ghost and what sort of afterlife there was, if any. He couldn't get it out of his head. For all he knew, the ghost of that racer had faded into oblivion. That thought bothered him the most but he just couldn't shake it from his head.

It was fortunate he had a boisterous Itsuki to do it for him.

"What's got you all spaced out now?" he asked as he latched an arm across Takumi's shoulders. "You've been dazed a lot lately, you don't have a secret girlfriend, do you?" He gave his cheek a good pinch.

"Ow! Cut it out! That's not it at all." He managed to pry his friend's hand off his face and weasel out from his grip with an annoyed scowl.

"Are you OK, Takumi?" Iketani questioned as he shooed Itsuki aside. "You're not still upset about the accident, are you?"

It wasn't often his senior could get a good read on him, but when he did it never ceased to take him by surprise. He struggled to get his bearings. "I mean… It's just kind of messed up, you know?" Even moreso, now that he knew the real reason of the crash.

"Hey, I hear ya." He rested a hand stop the teen's shoulder and squeezed. "It's always terrible to hear about someone crashing. It's even worse when it leads to a death."

The three fell silent as the heavy truth settled over them. Even Yuichi took a moment to grieve the deadly stories he'd been privy to over the years.

Moment over, he continued, "Look, all we can do is try to be safe. Us Speed Stars take great pride in sanctioning races and making sure there's little to no risk. All the other teams worth their salt do the same. The sad truth is there will always be people who bite off more than they can chew." Hell, he'd nearly done the exact same thing not too long ago. It was a constant reminder to be more aware of his limits.

Itsuki, not wanting to be left out and hating the melancholy look Takumi wore, butt in with, "It's not your fault, Takumi. You didn't make them crash. I know we've been going on about ghosts and stuff, but Iketani was just out there last night and said it's fine now."

Takumi wanted the words to soothe him, but they did the exact opposite. None of them knew—nor would they ever know, if he could help it—that the whole thing was his fault. What a twisted way of fate. If he hadn't been so famous, if he weren't so skilled, if he had been the one to crash five years ago-

No. No going down that road. He couldn't control what other people thought of him. He couldn't stop people form wanting to become street racers. He certainly couldn't stop anyone from making a fatal mistake behind the wheel. The very person who'd died assured him he wasn't to blame. It would be disrespectful for him to ignore that fact in favor of self-loathing.

…This was going to eat at him for a very long time.

Yeah so I thought about giving 'the ghost' more of an identity but decided not to. Partially due to laziness but also because I like how mysterious it is. They're dead. They're just a mass of shadows so does the identity really matter anymore? They clearly aren't themselves anymore and I was trying to capture that but I'm not sure how well it turned out. I still had a ton of fun with this. It took me a long while to get it complete. I thought about adding a scene w/Bunta after Takumi returns home later than normal but decided not to. It was so freaking hard to write Takumi and I don't know how well I handled his personality or the hidden things I was trying to carry across. There was no way I was gonna attempt to write Bunta lol. Anyway. Thoughts are always appreciated. If you see any weird typos or something doesn't make sense, please tell me. I probably won't post this to AO3 for a little while longer because there's some stuff I'm still considering.

[batmannotes]

Batman Ninja vs Yakuza League 4K UHD Review

Batman Ninja vs Yakuza League 4K UHD is the sequel to Batman Ninja, the Batman family has returned to the present to discover that Japan has disappeared, and a giant island, Hinomoto, is now in the sky over Gotham City. At the top sit the Yakuza, a group of superpowered individuals who reign without honor or humanity and look suspiciously like the Justice League. Now, it's up to Batman and his allies to save Gotham. 

The first Batman Ninja film was a pleasant surprise. Gorgeous artwork was the backbone of the unusual, animated movie. Seven years later Warner Bros. has gone back to the well to try to recapture the same animated magic. There are several members from the Bat-family here, including Nightwing, Robin, Red Robin and Red Hood as well as members of the Justice League, including Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash and Aquaman.

The first thing I noticed was the artwork itself, which to me looks like it was drawn on a cement tabletop with a bad ballpoint pen. It definitely pales in comparison to the amazing look of the original film. Another problem is the uneven mix of computer animated backgrounds and animated cells in the foreground. At times, the characters look like puppets and very unlifelike (yeah, I know this is cartoon). I did, however, dig the way they introduce the Justice League characters à la a classic video game (see below). 

Although the premise seems vast, it is elemental and draws mostly from older storylines from the comic book world. On the plus side; there are some cool action sequences and subtle humor throughout. 

VIDEO QUALITY 📽️ :  A-

Animation always shines the best on the UHD format, even with the uneven look here, but don't expect the same beautiful animated look of the original.

Codec: HEVC / H.265 Resolution: Upscaled 4K (2160p) HDR: Dolby Vision Aspect ratio: 1.78:1 Original aspect ratio: 1.78:1

AUDIO QUALITY 🔈 : A-

Very nice but not exceptional audio here. The english dub here is fine and the sound effects and music work well.

English: Dolby Digital 5.1 (448 kbps) Japanese: Dolby Digital 5.1 (448 kbps)

EXTRAS 📀 :  B-

I always bump up or down a letter grade based on an included or excluded digital copy. Fortunately Warner Bros. includes a digital code here for Movies Anywhere. Two features are also available on this single disc release: "Bringing the League to Japan" and "Anime Action Choreographing the Fights".

OVERALL GRADE: C

This movie is somewhat of a disappointment when looking side to side to the original Batman Ninja. It's a downgrade as far as artwork, story and overall fun are concerned, but it's not a total flop either ... just par for the course.

Batman Ninja vs Yakuza League is now available on 4K UHD Blu-Ray. The direct Amazon link is here.

[newdawnsims]

Host: Hello Caleb. I hear you prefer to be called Kai?

Kai: Yeah, that's me. Kai Vance, older brother of our glorious leader, Ellie Vance.

Host: It's a pleasure to meet you, Kai.

Kai: You too, even if I'm not supposed to say your name. Why not, anyway? Doesn't seem like the usual format for a reality competition.

Host: Well, this isn't exactly the normal reality competition show, is it?

Kai: I guess that's true. But I still don't know why you're remaining anonymous.

Host: That is because we want to keep this experience as authentic for the viewers as we can. We want them to feel like you all are truly isolated, building this town on your own.

Kai: That makes sense.

Host: I'm glad. So, Kai, what is role in the town? What were you chosen to be? So far we know that your sister is the mayor, and Rowan is the head of resource management and sustainability, so the viewers and I would like to get to know you a bit better now.

Kai: I'm the head of technology and innovation!

Host: That seems very important. But.. is there much for you to do at the beginning? With there being no electricity, and no perceived way to get electricity yet?

Kai: Oh sure, for now I'll just be helping out where I can. I'm pretty athletic despite being a computer nerd, you know, haha. I'll do whatever the other residents need me to do, do heavy lifting, gardening, caring for animals, whatever. All while figuring out a way to get a power source without getting outside help.

Host: I see, that makes sense. So, now that we know what you'll be in charge of, do you want to tell me any more about yourself? Perhaps a university degree, what you did for work, where you come from? Is there anyone waiting for you back home? Do you have any hobbies?

Kai: I can definitely answer those questions. The easy ones first - I do have hobbies, mostly programming and video games, but those are also my job, so I also play some guitar in my spare time, and go skiing when I can. I have no girlfriend or anything, if that's what you're asking about anyone back home.

Host: That's all good to know, thank you.

Kai: Yeah. As for the other questions, I have a degree in computer science, and I was working for a company that was just a start-up when I was hired, but it's pretty big now. I developed some software for them that really propelled them to the top, but I'm not telling you what it is. That's private, I like to keep it a secret. I might be an arrogant son of a b**** but- oh, can I say that?

Host: It's fine, we'll bleep it out.

Kai: Great, anyway, as I said, I'm an arrogant SOB but I also want to be appreciated for me, not just my software.

Host: I'm sure we all understand that, Kai. Thank you for answering my questions, I'm sure our viewers are happy to have gotten to know you a bit better.

Kai: I'm sure they are, too. See ya!

[illfoandillfie]

Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

Pairing: Rich Fuckboy!Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Summery:  An unexpected call from Ben results in an unexpected evening.

Warnings: Smut (18+), Rich kid dickishness, dom/sub dynamics, mostly dom ben and sub reader, but also a little round the other way, a fair bit of derogatory/degrading language (esp whore), edging, cockwarming, a little spanking, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, piv sex, begging, bondage, forced orgasm. I think thats all.

Words: 12,890

A/N: Wasn't necessarily planning to write more of rich bitch Benny but then I saw some promo pics for his movie Love At First Sight and something in my brain booted up. This was written over a stupidly long time, literally months, so hopefully its okay lmao. Also please excuse any weird formatting. The way tumblr works, paragraphs can't be more than 4096 characters so some of the dialogue had to be broken up to make it postable.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

“You get two questions.”  “Five,” Bianca countered.  “Two. I want to have a shower.”  “Fine.” She agreed, disgruntled. Bianca had ambushed you the second you got home, having stayed up waiting on the couch to hear all about your date with Ben. She’d listened patiently, laughing or nodding and squealing a little, as you told her about the restaurant he’d chosen and the club and ending up on the yacht. But when you’d admitted you had slept with him, she got so excited you were a little worried she’d forget to breathe. Bianca thought for a moment, choosing which of her questions were most worth asking, “Okay, one, was he good? Like did you get off?”  “Yeah, he was very good,” you smiled to yourself thinking about just how good he’d been, following all your orders.  Bianca seemed a little relieved that the exceptional lover she’d fantasised about so many times could live up to the image. “Was he into any weird kinks?”  You thought for a moment, contemplating how little you could get away with saying, “Nothing super unusual. But y’know that’s stuff you don’t necessarily bring out the first time.”  “Nothing kinky? Not even like some bondage or spitting or anything?”  “You asked me about weird! Yeah there was a little bondage. Spanking too.” 

"I knew it!” she said before the loudest squeal yet and you hurried to shush her before a neighbour complained.  “He was hung right? Please god tell me he was hung.”  “Thats more than two questions.”  “Fuck, c’mon Y/N. Just describe his dick for me. I've been trying to picture it for years, it’d be mean of you not to tell me.”  You laughed, enjoying teasing her but you felt a little bad for sleeping with her celebrity crush so held up your hands to demonstrate an approximate length, “Comparisons could be drawn to horses.”  Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas, “I knew it.”  “He wasn’t super thick but he was decently long. Nothing crazy but more than enough. Very slight curve.”  She’d closed her eyes and hummed as you described him, “It’s beautiful,” she said dreamily.  Laughing, you bid her goodnight, looking forward to showering and then heading to bed, but once more she stopped you.   “Wait, are you going to sell the story?”  “Oh, I can’t. He made me sign an NDA. I’ve probably said too much already so don’t go repeating it okay.”  “So that’s why no one ever spills too many details.”  “Yeah, must be.” You felt a little bad for lying but you really wanted to shower, and you knew she’d ask more questions if you admitted you didn’t want to tell anyone now. If the night had gone more to Ben’s plan, if you’d let him be in control, you wouldn’t have had any qualms about writing to a magazine with the big scoop. But he’d obviously cultivated a particular image in the public conscious, one that didn’t necessarily align with ideas of him as a willing, even eager, submissive. The thought of selling that story made you feel dirty in a way the other versions just wouldn’t. So, at the end of the night you’d promised to keep it a secret, even if that meant remaining poor. You’d gotten to domme The Benjamin Hardy after all, what more did you need.

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

As it happened, it wasn’t so much what you needed, but rather what Ben did. Around two weeks after your night together, you answered a call from a private number, hoping it wasn’t a scam caller. Your surprise at hearing Ben’s voice saying your name was rivalled only by his apparent surprise that he was calling.  “Um, what’s this about?” you felt entirely caught off guard.  “I- well, I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight?” It didn’t sound so much like he was asking you, as he was questioning his decision to call.  You laughed, stepping into your cupboard and pulling the door closed so you’d be less likely to be overheard. The darkness made everything feel more surreal than it already did, “You already bored of the airheads who just do what you say?”  He scoffed, his uncertainty falling away at the first opportunity to be a tosser, “No, actually, I’m looking for an easy shag. Most of my regular options are at this fashion thing this weekend but I knew you wouldn’t be invited.”  “Fashion event? Is that what they told you? They’re probably off trying for a different sugar daddy.”  “Good luck to them. They’ll all be back, but my cock’s hard now.”  You rolled your eyes, “C’mon Benny, you don’t have to lie to me. Just admit you liked what I did to you and want me to do it again.”  “I just liked your cunt.”  “You liked me threatening to peg you.”  He paused for a beat, “I like the idea of fucking your arse more.”  “Okay, this is cute,” you said, growing bored of his asshole attitude, “but I’ve got better things to do. Bye Ben.”  “Wait, don’t hang up.”   You let him hang in silence for a few seconds before saying, “I’m listening,” intrigued by the way the bravado had dropped from his voice.  “Would you like to get dinner with me?”  “Just dinner?”  “Yes. Your call if anything else happens.”  You hummed in thought, weighing up your options. On one hand, Bianca would freak out at even the smallest hint there was more than just a one-night stand between you and Ben. And you didn’t really feel like being paraded in front of cameras or his boorish friends again. But on the other, you’d clearly awoken something in Ben. To the point where he seemed willing to go out with you again, even without the promise of sex. And that was after just one night of being edged....imagine what you could do with more time. “Okay, dinner sounds nice. But not at that ridiculous place you took me last time.”  “You didn’t like it there?”  “It was nice, but the cameras are a bit of a buzzkill.”  “Well I can get us in anywhere else, but the paparazzi will find me wherever we go.”  “So then let me pick where we eat.”  “Do you have a standing reservation at any Michelin star restaurants?”  “No but they’re not the only places to eat in this city.” you only just managed not to call him an idiot.  “The only worthwhile ones. Michelin literally means delicious in French.”  “It’s a tire company Ben, it means jack shit. Just let me pick where we eat.”  “Fine, but only if I’m guaranteed a shag. A good one, that I get to control.”  “What happened to just dinner?”  “I think we both know just dinner wasn’t really going to happen. You liked my cock too much. But if I’m not allowed to choose where we go, you’re not allowed to dom me.”  “But isn’t that the entire reason you called?”  “Not the entire reason. I’ll have you know there were ulterior motives.”

By the time Ben pulled up you were waiting out on the street. You’d decided it was best to get out without Bianca finding out who you were going out with, just to minimize the questions and potential jealousy or excitement. You weren’t sure which direction her emotions would go in. So you’d twisted the truth a little to make it sound like Ben was a random guy you’d matched with on tinder. Bianca had been interested but not as overbearing as she might have been had she known, her questions more general ones about where you were going and how long you’d been messaging the guy. Ben seemed a little surprised when he saw you waitingbut got out and held the limo door open for you.   “Worried if I came up you’d forget yourself and just have to get my cock out?”  You snorted, “No, I just don’t want Bianca to know I’m going out with you again.”  “Bianca....why does that name sound familiar?”  “She’s my roommate. I mentioned her last time. She was with me when we met and you first asked me out.”  “Oh, right, the chick who puked.” Ben laughed, “You worried she’d be jealous? Should have invited her, she sounds easy and you know that’s my type.”  “Ben,” you said firmly, beginning to regret not just hanging up on him, “you know that sort of comment isn’t going to work on me, especially since you’re talking about my friend. Now either stop acting like such a prick, or I will go back upstairs and block your number. There is no one here who is going to be impressed by your bullshit.  “Sorry.” He said softly and surprisingly sincerely, “You look nice, by the way.”  “Sure you don’t want to tell me I should have dressed sluttier?” You waved a hand in front of yourself, indicating the dress you’d chosen. It was neither as short, nor as tight, as the dress you’d worn last time, falling to your knees, not clinging to your skin. The only vaguely revealing part of the dress was a little bit of cleavage on display and even that wasn’t much.   “No, it suits you. And you look lovely in it.”   You were a little suspicious but chose to accept the complement, thanking Ben before saying, “I did do as you asked though. No underwear.”  He tried not to look too pleased, “Can I see?”  “Not yet.”  “What if I promise to go down on you until we get to wherever you’re taking me – which is where by the way?”  You gave him the address and he passed it on to the driver.  “So?” he asked as the car began to move, “You know I know how to eat pussy.”  You rolled your eyes, though you felt that at least his tact included offering to pleasure you rather than just himself, “No. Not yet.”  “I thought you promised to be my whore,” he pouted. Ben still wasn’t used to not getting his way immediately, “My whores do what I say when I say it.”  “Well we both know that doesn’t work with me, does it baby,” you weren’t sure how far Ben would let you push him, but it was fun to test the waters. He made a low rumbly sound, almost a growl, and for a moment you wondered if he’d put his hand on your throat like last time, attempt to intimidate you into complying. Instead, he just nodded and subtly palmed the front of his pants.  “I know I let you maul me in this limo last time,” you felt confident enough that he wouldn’t try anything to continue, “but that was when I was trying to lull you into a false sense of domination. So we’re going to have dinner first and you’re going to be nice to me. And then, once we’re on the way to your place, that’s when I’ll let you take control.”  Ben was quiet for a moment, contemplating what you’d said. You could see his habitual tendencies to objectify every women he talked to were battling with his clear enjoyment of being bossed around, “Okay, deal. But you’ll be fucking in for it later.”

“Who’s house is this?” Ben asked as he offered you a hand out of the limo, the bag of food in his other. You leant back in to grab the bottle of champagne and the glasses, able to feel Ben ogling the hem of your dress as it rose up the back of your legs, “It’s not the house we’re here for, c’mon.” You led him around the corner and up a little alley that ran behind the houses. Ben scrunched up his nose a little, “Bit…dingy isn’t it. Not really the sort of place I want to eat. Quickie during a party is a different story though.” You ignored him, leading him further down the path until it opened out into a little garden which was surrounded by trees, making it feel removed from the outside world. Ben’s dissatisfaction with the alley turned into a bemused approval, “Well this is quite nice. You set it up yourself?” “No, the lights got put up for a Christmas party a few years back and they just left them up.” Ben looked around at the twinkling white solar lights draped throughout the tree branches, “Well it’s not what I was expecting but it’s nice. Cute. Little bit romantic even with the moonlight and all. Well done.” You laughed a little and took the bag from him as you sat down in the middle of a circle of stone pavers, pulling out the few dishes you’d ordered as well as some paper plates and bamboo cutlery. Ben watched you for a while until you told him to sit down. He warily crouched down, brushing leaf litter from a patch before he sat proper. When he caught your raised eyebrow he shrugged, “This suit is worth more than you make in a year. Not even the best cunt in the world could make me ruin it.” “You think I have the best cunt in the world? I’m flattered,” you continued dishing up the food, handing a plate to Ben. “That’s not what I meant. We’ll see after tonight though. If you behave and take me the way I want, you might be in the running.” You did your best to hide a smile, trying not to give away how amusing his comment was. That is, until he took it too far and your smile turned into an eye roll. “Although, to really be sure I’d have to have all the contenders lined up for me to test out one after another. Hmmm, now that’s a thought." You cleared your throat, hoping a gentle reminder would be enough but Ben remained lost in pornographically unrealistic fantasies, the outline of his cock much more visible than it had been a moment before. “Fork Ben?” you asked, tempted to poke him with the implement.” “You’ve gotten eager but alright.” This time you did poke him, just quickly in the shoulder, emphasising correct articulation as you repeated, “Fork.” “Ow, alright.” He took the cutlery from you, “you’re the one who was talking about cunts though. Can’t blame me for mishearing.” Before you could do more than huff in response Ben quickly said, “So, you gonna explain this place to me? Because I can tell you, if we’re caught trespassing here, we’ll definitely end up in the papers and that sort of publicity is much less fun than being seen at a nice restaurant.”

You shook your head as you settled back with your own plate, “No, we have permission to be here. Hows the food by the way?” “Incredible. Can’t believe I haven’t heard of them before.” “Well they don’t have any Michelin stars so maybe that’s why. And don’t you start telling your rich friends about it. I don’t want you ruining my favourite Thai place.” Ben laughed, “So when you say we have permission to be here what do you mean?” “Well, I grew up in this area actually. One street over, but I used to come to this spot a lot. It was designed to be a little community garden, there’s still some planters over along the fence, but mostly it gets used for street parties and things, so usually it was empty. I used to come here when I wanted to be alone. It seemed so secret and secluded and, I don’t know, kind of magical I guess. I mean, now I know it wasn’t quite as secret as I thought. The house that we’re behind can see directly between those two trees,” you pointed at them, “and the old couple who used to live there were friends with my parents, so they’d keep an eye on me. And then when I was a bit older I did some baby sitting for their daughter who eventually moved back into the house to look after her parents and who still lives there now since she inherited it.” “So she can see us? Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism.” “She’s overseas at the moment. But our families have kept in contact and when I said I had a date I wanted to bring here she said it’d be fine.” “Condemning silence about exhibitionism which I’ve definitely filed away. But this place is nice. A little dirty perhaps, but nice.” He had another mouthful and then said, “So, why exactly did you bring me here?” “Isn’t that obvious?” He hummed thoughtfully, “Because you’re a dirty girl who likes doing it outside? Because you didn’t want me to have home ground advantage? Because you don’t like the idea of other women having me and this way you get me all to yourself? Am I getting close?” “I wanted to see you away from the cameras and the fawning models and the arseholes you call friends. I wanted a nice, normal sort of a night where we weren’t going to end up on the front page of every gossip website. And I wanted to see if you were a prick even without an audience.” “Please, you like it” he scoffed teasingly, “And I don’t understand what you’ve got against having your photo taken. I told you last time that being seen is half the fun. I mean, don’t me wrong, this is nice too. Just a bit boring in comparison.” “Mmm, well I’m sure there’ll be plenty of articles speculating on where you were tonight since no one’s got a picture.” Ben perked up a little at the idea, “That’s a good point. Maybe a quiet night every so often isn’t a bad idea.”

For the next little while, as you finished your dinner, Ben oscillated between total sweetheart and utter dickhead, as though he were playing Double Dutch with the line between. You’d hoped that getting him on his own would discourage some of the behaviours he’d displayed last time you’d been with him. If he wasn’t around his idiot friends, he’d have no one to objectify women with. If you weren’t at a restaurant, none of his previous or prospective conquests could remind him of wild nights that he’d then tell you all about. If he couldn’t throw money around in order to buy your company for the night, he’d have to offer stimulating conversation and a genuine reason for your interest instead. But apparently it was not as cause and effect as you’d assumed and Ben still managed to do all the things you’d hoped to avoid. And if anything, being alone with him with no other women to distract made him even more intent on getting you out of your clothes. He suggested first that dinner would taste better eaten off your tits. And then when you tried to come up with a new topic of conversation, he decided to reminisce about a time he’d seduced a TV personality on the set of a cooking show after they’d both been judging it. And every time you took a sip of champagne he’d watch as if telepathically trying to get you drunk. The annoying thing was that in between he was absolutely delightful. You knew there was a decent man buried beneath the layers of wankery his affluent lifestyle had imbued him with. But it was only after he smiled charmingly, leaned in close, and suggested you give him a quick handy if you weren’t going to lift your skirt, that you grew fed up enough to voice the opinion you’d formed about his style of flirting. “Y’know, I thought you’d be better at it.” “Better at what?” he asked suspiciously, “I can assure you I’m incredible at it, you just need a proper demonstration.” “No not that. Flirting. I mean, that is what you’re trying to do isn’t it?” “Obviously,” he said, taken aback. “I guess you’ve never had to really try have you? You were blessed with looks and money. Probably never been turned down in your life, even when you should have been.” “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you actually are as dumb as the rest of them. And here I was thinking fucking your brains out would be an actual accomplishment.” “No, I just….it’s not good flirting. You realise that right?” “What do you mean not good flirting? It works every time.” “No, I think it’s the money that works every time. Being rich means you can get away with a lot of other bullshit.” When he seemed likely to try and contradict you, you spoke over the top of him, “Listen, I know I can’t speak for every woman you hit on but I can tell you that if an average looking guy with an average amount of money tried to flirt the way you do, he would be shot down. Very, very quickly. For the most part women don’t want to be degraded by random guys they go out with. And they don’t want to hear about all your other conquests when you’re hitting on them.” “Well what would you know,” he said, crossing his arms in sullen defensiveness.

You turned up the condescension, “Aww baby, I get it. You’ve never had to learn how to keep a girl interested without buying her attention." Ben was still pouting but his expression had changed, less cocksure. “It’s okay baby, I’ll keep you in line.” Ben gave half a nod but then paused, “Hey, wait. Stop making me feel subby, I’m meant to be domming tonight.” You laughed at how he sounded almost like he was going to throw a tantrum, “but it’s so easy and fun.” “Well turning you into a fucked out cockslut will be fun too.” There was a short pause and then Ben, much more seriously said, “But you really think my flirting is bad?” “I hate to break it to you but, kinda yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. You just need some work. Sometimes you take things a bit far with the teasy banter.” “Like when?” “Hmmm well, just before when you were bragging about how expensive your suit is – which is pretty unsexy by the way – and then I countered with a joke about having the best cunt in the world. Personally I didn’t mind your come back about making me behave or whatever. It was a little crass maybe but not too much more than what I’d said, and since we both know I’m letting you take charge tonight it was a bit hot. But then you took it too far by inventing a scenario in which you would have the chance to compare me to other women. We went from hot to ick in a matter of seconds.” “I’m pretty sure I was implying that you would win.” “Didn’t really sound like it and absolutely not the point. How can I put it? When you talk to me like I’m a normal human being not something put in front of you for your sexual gratification, when we have a proper conversation with a little bit of banter, that’s fun and enjoyable and makes me want to sleep with you. But then you’ll tell me about some other woman you had sex with or you’ll make a derogatory comment about my friend, whom you’ve not even properly met, or you’ll act like you expect me to get my tits out as, I don’t know, decoration while you eat. Basically anything to imply that the only reason you’re even here with me is to have sex.” “But that was the agreement.” “I know. And I am totally fine with having a night out with the expectation it’ll end in sex. But it would be nice, and it would make me want to fuck you more, if you acted like getting laid wasn’t the only thing you care about. Especially because sometimes it’s like you don’t even care who you have sex with as long as you get off, like you have no interest in if I enjoy it, you just want to use me cause I'm there.” “And that’s bad?” “As a flirting technique yes.” “But it’s a complement? And I’ve been with loads of women who say being used is hot.” “Well it’s not the nicest complement ever. And I’m not saying it isn’t hot in some situations. But not everyone likes it and even women who do enjoy it don’t necessarily want it all the time or with someone they’ve never slept with before.” “Lighten up, it’s a bit of fun and I always get them off." “Yeah but you imply that you don’t care if they cum or not which makes you seem like a bit of an asshole. Plus sometimes it can come off a little rapey. Less like a ‘I don’t care if you cum’ and more of a ‘I don’t care if you actually want it’ type thing. I don’t think I need to tell you why that’s unattractive.” “I- no- how,” Ben spluttered before he finally managed, “I would never!” “I’m not saying you have and I’m not saying you would. But sometimes you can come off a bit like that, even if it’s well intentioned. Last time we went out you pinned me down in the back of your car, your hand on my throat, and told me I was going to do everything you wanted. You were practically a stranger, I didn’t know where we were, I had no quick way of leaving partly because we were in your car and partly because of the stupidly high shoes I was wearing. It was kind of threatening. I mean I know that wasn’t your intention but…” you trailed off letting Ben absorb what you’d said.

“I really didn’t realise that’s how I sounded, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I was never scared or anything, I didn’t think you would rape me. And I don’t say this to accuse you of something or to be mean. I’m just sick of some of the things you’ve been saying, and I think you deserve to know that what you think is cheeky flirting can come across differently to the women you’re flirting with. "Um, well, thanks I guess. ‘Spose it is better for me to know. Don’t want to get cancelled or whatever, father would kill me. So, do you want me to take you home now?” “What? No, not at all.” “I don’t want you to think you have to sleep with me. If you want to end tonight early, I’m okay with that.” “Oh, baby, no, that’s not what I want. I came here knowing I’d end up in your bed and I think we can still have fun. Besides, I’m still eating.” “Are you sure? Wouldn’t think you’d still be up for it after everything you said.” “To tell the truth I'd really love to dom you now. Punish you for some of the gross bullshit you’ve said, put you in your place again. But we made a deal and I’m very happy to hold to it.” “Really? I think you killed my boner.” You giggled, “Well if you don’t want to, we can just finish dinner and you can drop me home. But I think I can get you back up.” Ben eyed you suspiciously, “How?” “I train you to behave better.” He shifted surreptitiously but didn’t say anything. “We stay here, finish dinner, finish his bottle of champagne, talk for a bit. But every time you say something I would consider bad flirting technique, I will do something to remind you to be better. Pull your hair, maybe edge you, whatever will get the message across.” “I guess that could be fun.” Ben said, trying to sound as if he didn’t mind and failing, “Not really the deal we made though.” You laughed, “Are you telling me that wouldn’t make you want revenge? Being edged and teased when you were meant to be in charge. Wouldn’t that rile you up. Make you want to turn the tables, show me who’s boss. I mean, all your cocky dom behaviour is what got me wanting to tie you up last time, but maybe it doesn’t work like that for you.” “Oh! I hadn’t thought of it like that.” “Because you like when I tell you what to do.” “No. Well maybe a bit. But mostly because I feel bad and thought I should just do what you want so you’d know I wouldn’t, like, hurt you or whatever. I mean, I would have expected another night for you to make it up to me but…” “It is tempting but I’ll admit I might have some ulterior motives for letting you dom me,” you leaned closer to Ben as if you were about to reveal a big secret, “You can learn a lot about how to control a guy by letting him control you. So I’m happy to let you do virtually anything you want to me. With a few exceptions.” “What sort of exceptions?” “I don’t mind anal play,” you dropped into a more serious tone rather than the sultry one you’d slipped into, “but I haven’t done any prep for it so none of it tonight please. Also, I would prefer any marks left are in easy to hide places. Concealer can be bloody expensive and I don’t want to waste any on whatever hickeys and bruises you want to leave. And I’m not super into choking. I don’t mind a hand on my neck but no squeezing if possible.” Ben hummed, “But everything else is on the cards? Mouth and cunt? Spanking? Hair pulling? Tying you up?” “Mmhmm. Whatever you want. As soon as we’re back in that car of yours. Of course, if you’re feeling all subby then that could be what you want.” A low rumble emanated from Ben’s throat as if he were growling and it made you intrigued and a little wet. But you did your best to play it cool, “See, looks like we’re fixing your boner already.”

Fortunately for you, it seemed to take Ben a little while to grasp just what you considered inappropriate flirting. At first you kept your reminders small, giving him firm taps and small pinches, maybe cutting him off to tell him to try again. But, when the lessons didn’t seem to be sticking, you ramped it up a little. By the time you were finished with the food and had moved on to finishing the champagne, he once again tried to describe a night he’d spent with another women, going into unnecessary detail about her figure in less than polite terms. You let him talk as you undid his zip and reached into his pants. Ben hummed as your fingers stroked along his already semi hard length, easily pulled free since he’d not worn underwear either, “Your gonna try and outdo her now are you?” he asked, seemingly having forgotten your threats, “Hope you know how to suck properly cause she was an expert.” You didn’t respond, just kept focused on the handjob as Ben went back to describing what the young woman had done to him. His voice became strained as he got more excited, his cock well and truly hard within your grasp, beads of precum at his tip. “Why’d you stop?” he groaned when you removed your hand before he could finish. “I told you I’d edge you.” “I thought you were bluffing,” he admitted, his face flushed. “Oh I never joke about edging baby. Especially when I’m using it to correct bad behaviour.” “What’s to stop me just finishing myself off?” “Well then you obviously wouldn’t need me at all tonight.” Ben’s hand hovered over his cock for a moment before he moved it aside. “Good boy. Now tell me more about that art show you mentioned. Did you say there was an auction?”

“Um, yeah.” He blinked like he was trying to get his brain to switch thought, “Father thinks I should be seen at fundraisers and charity events more than at clubs and restaurants so I mostly went to keep him off my back. It was mostly pretty boring but I ended up winning this stunning painting, only good piece of the night. Very detailed nude. The tits on her, phwoar. I even met the model who posed for it. Wanted to com-” Ben cut himself off as you began wanking him again. “Sorry.” “Thank you for apologising baby,” you sped your hand up, figuring since he’d caught himself before he said anything really bad you wouldn’t draw this one out. “You can stop, I didn’t say anything.” “Aww baby, I still have to edge you. Otherwise you’ll never learn.” Ben swore when you did release him, his breath heavy as he said, “That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t even going to say anything bad. Besides your tits are better. Not as big but I’ve touched both and yours are better. No, no, please.” “You can come up with a better complement than that.” You sighed, as if edging him was a chore you didn’t enjoy. “Fucking bitch. I know this is just cause I’ve got the best cock you’ve ever had and you wanted an excuse to touch it.” “Amazingly, that’s worse. And it’ll cost you another three edges. One for calling me a bitch. One for being so far up your own ass you think I couldn’t possibly have had better. And one because I know you’re enjoying this and that’s why you keep saying the douchiest shit.” You pulled your hand away, “Thats one.” Ben whined when you started on the next, the break between only short. “Don’t cum,” you reminded him, “it will not stop me, I’ll just overstimulate you instead. Maybe then you’ll really learn your lesson.” “Please, please, close,” Ben managed to whimper, and you pulled your hand away again to reward him. Ben whined and pounded his fist against the ground once, but he managed to keep whatever thoughts he was having to himself. He was clearly learning. “Just one more, okay baby?” Ben nodded, leaning back on his elbows. His cockhead was dark and precum dripped down his shaft. He wouldn’t last if you began another edge too soon so you decided to toy with him in other ways while you waited. Pushing yourself to your knees, you gathered the hem of your dress in your fists and slowly began to raise it. “Wasn’t sure I believed you,” Ben said, not quite managing to sound as cocky as he had before the edges but making a valiant attempt “Good to know you can follow instructions.” He reached a hand out as if to touch your naked pussy but you tutted and grabbed his wrist. “Not yet, baby.” you shuffled closer, keeping the front of your dress lifted as you placed a knee on either side of his legs. “Now edge yourself for me.” Ben groaned with longing as he looked at your cunt, but then he switched to glaring at you as he did as you’d said, slowly working his hand along his shaft, aided by precum and a little of his own spit. You’d been fully prepared to rub yourself along his cock or even against his thigh if he’d made a fuss, but he hadn’t even tried to argue. He was clearly planning your demise, if his expression was anything to go by, but you had expected that and only minded in so much as you were missing out on the subby little face he made when you’d had him last and he’d given in completely. But you let him go, occasionally instructing him, but mostly just watching his reactions, seeing if you could pick when he was close. It didn’t take long for him to get there, whining as he pulled his hand back. “Good boy,” you let your dress drop again, leaning forward to carefully tuck his leaking cock back into his pants, hoping that just your touch wouldn’t set him off.

Settling back onto the rug you continued the conversation as if nothing had happened, sipping at your champagne. Ben drank his a little faster, still staring daggers at you from over the rim of his glass, even when responding to you. But he seemed to have learnt his lesson. Once or twice he started to say something but cut himself off and changed tact, and you ended up having a genuinely pleasant chat. He was still flirty, still explicit about how much he wanted to fuck you, just less obnoxious about it. You didn’t have to hear about any more of his previous sexual escapades at any rate, and he was attentive enough to make you feel like sex was only most of what he cared about. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery and see what he had in store for you.  “Bottles empty."  “I’ve got more back at the hotel” Ben said, catching on instantly – the bottle had been empty for a little while.   “Perfect,” you smiled and let him help you to your feet, collecting the rubbish in the bag from the Thai place and dropping it into a bin out on the street as he hurried you back to the car. The driver stubbed out a cigarette on the road when he saw you approaching and was holding the door open by the time you reached him. 

You were barely inside when Ben put his hand on your knees, pushing your legs open. “Already?” you asked, breath hitching as he exposed you. “Are you kidding? After what you did tonight, you think I’d wait?” he leaned in closer, one hand sliding up your thigh as the other remained firm on your knee so you couldn’t close your legs again, “After last time you really think I wouldn’t be itching to get my hands on you? You got something no one else has had and I’m so fucking annoyed that I liked it. I went home so pissed off after we docked because I know that you could have me on my knees, at your beck and call, in an instant. And I can’t have you out there bragging about it, telling anyone else, or I’m ruined. Especially because I also love domming sluts. Now, we did your quiet little dinner thing, I listened to you criticise me and imply I don’t satisfy my women. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, I let you have some fun at my expense. You were obviously so desperate to get my cock out that you had to make up an excuse to touch me,” his fingers stroked against your cunt and he smirked as if your wetness was proving him right, “but that’s okay. I like my whores desperate.” You wanted to interrupt him, to tell him that he was wrong, or better yet to steal control from him again, but as soon as you opened your mouth his palm was covering it. “Shhh no, it’s my turn to talk. I think it’s time for you to have a lesson, a hard lesson, in what it means to be my whore. That was our deal anyway. So you’re going to be quiet and do what I want. Nod if you consent.” You decided you must have got through to him at least a little bit since he was now trying to make consent clear, it was a far cry from when he’d last had you pinned down in his limo anyway, and you had agreed to it beforehand. So you nodded. “You’re going to be an eager and willing slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded but it wasn’t enough for Ben who moved his hand away and ordered “repeat what you are.” “You’re eager and willing slut. Sir.” “That’s what I like to hear. And you will enjoy everything I do to you. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise. Now show me your cunt again.” He sat back and you readjusted yourself in the seat, hitching your dress up as you spread your legs wider. Ben hummed in appreciation, “Touch yourself for me.” You swallowed thickly and did as he asked, stroking your fingers over your lips, already a little wet from teasing him. But Ben expected more, “Do it properly. You know how big I am, get yourself ready so I can fit.”

It made you want to roll your eyes but you resisted the urge, ready to play along like you’d promised. Instead, you kept eye contact with him as you stuck your fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with saliva before moving them back down to your cunt. On another day you might have been able to use the position to your advantage, make him so eager for you with your display that you could take charge before he realised what was happening. You were certain that if you’d made Ben watch you fingering yourself last time he would have turned submissive before you even made it onto the yacht. But he seemed determined to give you a taste of your own medicine today. He made a pleased sound and just watched. There was definitely a tension to him – something in the way he sat back from you and how his hand rested on the edge of the seat as if he were about to dig his fingers into the soft leather to keep from giving in – but he kept up the appearance of nonchalance. Which made you less sure of your assessment, and more worried about what he had in store for you. By the time you were adding a third finger, you felt very flustered and warm. Ben hadn’t looked away once. He’d relaxed more, content with watching despite how he was straining against the fabric of his pants. He’d made a couple of comments to either instruct you more specifically, or to gloat about how following orders suited you. “You like to play at taking charge, but we both know you want a man like me to control you.” You shook your head but your defiance was undercut by a whine. Ben just laughed, “you’re cunt agrees with me. I can see how wet you are. I can hear it. Don’t think you’re wet enough to handle my cock yet though. Guess I should give you a hand.” He’d been slowly rolling up his sleeve as he spoke but once it was up he quickly moved to take over. His body boxed you in against the seat and he pulled your fingers free, replacing them with his own. You half expected him to reach for your throat like last time but he didn’t. He did however shove three large fingers into your cunt, making you whine a little at the extra stretch of them. “Knew you needed help,” he smirked as he began fingering you relentlessly, his movements shallow and fast but reaching deeper. After a few rapid strokes he added in a little curl of his fingers against your front wall and you moaned suddenly. The look Ben gave you was his most insufferable yet, entirely too pleased with himself, but there wasn’t much you could do since he was making you feel so good.

Entirely too quickly he stopped and you looked around confused, wondering if you’d arrived already.  Ben didn’t answer, more concerned with getting his pants undone and pushing them down.   You were about to suggest that maybe he was the desperate one when he sat down and beckoned you over.   “You wanted it so bad, whore, here you go.” When you didn’t move straight away he clicked his fingers, “I know it's a monster but your cunt can take it. C’mon.”  You moved closer and Ben grabbed your hips, manhandling you onto his lap, groaning as you sank down he shaft.  Your back was to Ben, so you braced your hands on his knees, assuming you were meant to ride him. But he stopped you, wrapping an arm around you to keep you still, “no don’t move. You can warm me for a bit while I explain the trouble you’re in.”  You squirmed, not out of a strong desire to exhaust yourself riding him, more to show he wouldn’t have it too easy, even if you had agreed to submit. Ben’s grip remained tight but his other hand did slip down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with surprising ease and rubbing it lightly. Not firm enough to get you very far but enough to make you want more.   “You’re going to get a taste of your own medicine. I’m going to make you wait, and I’m going to make you beg, and I’m going to have you as much as I can tonight. And maybe again in the morning if you’re lucky.”  “How do you know I’ll beg?”  “Well if you don’t that’ll be your problem. Because you won’t be cumming until you do. But, see, I’ll get off as much as I want. Your little edging game means that even just being in you has me close already. It gave me some ideas too.” That was when he started rubbing your clit properly, his fingertips pressing against it, pulling you closer to the edge.   You knew it wouldn’t last, that he’d stop before you got anywhere near orgasm, but that didn’t change how disappointing it was when he did. Especially because you involuntarily clenched around his cock at the sudden lack of stimulation, and heard Ben groan in your ear.  “God you feel good when I deny you,” he said as he started again.   You quickly lost track of how many edges you had and how long you’d been in the car.   Ben hadn’t had the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but he’d made you whine and whimper. And he’d had more actual satisfaction than you, managing an orgasm just from the wet warmth of you tightening around him a few times. He’d gone rigid for a moment as he reached his release but then he’d recovered himself and gone right back to edging you. You’d tried to clench around him more intentionally, hoping to overstimulate him a little, but if he felt much he didn’t let on. Which meant that by the time he pushed you from his lap you could feel a combination of his cum and your slick on your thighs and dripping from your cunt.   The car pulled up as Ben said, “Clean yourself up,” tossing you a few tissues from a pocket inside his suit jacket, “Can’t have you dripping through the foyer.”  That felt more humiliating than anything else he’d done or said, especially because of how horny and wet you were, but Ben didn’t seem to notice as he tucked himself away again and smoothed out his suit.   Once you’d straightened yourself up as much as you could in the confines of the limo, Ben helped you out, once again acting the gentleman as he offered you his arm.

You tried to act as normal as possible as you walked through the foyer of what was obviously a five star hotel, an ambitious goal considering what had happened on the drive there and how fancy the place seemed.  "Do you live here?” you asked, hoping that having a conversation to focus on would help with the image you were attempting to cultivate.   Ben shook his head as you approached the lifts, “No, I have a house. Father bought it for me when I turned 18. He thought it would do me good to live on my own or something. But I never take the women I fuck there.”  You blinked, surprised, “why not?”  “If I was dating them it would be different, and in fact one of my exes did move in there with me for a while. But one night stands don’t get to see where I live. I permanently keep the penthouse suite here for getting my dick wet. That’s how you know you’re one of my whores.” He didn't give you a chance to respond, pulling you into a demanding kiss, his hands roaming over your arse until the elevator dinged at his floor.  

It was a short walk to his door and Ben already had the keycard out by the time you reached it, clearly eager for more. He took just enough time to place a do not disturb hanger on the door handle before he pushed you to your knees right there in the entry way. When you looked up he was working on unbuckling his pants again, his cock already hard as he pulled it out, his quick refractory time a result of the edges, or so you assumed.   “I’m sure you’ve got some little plan to get on top going on in your head right now, Y/N,” he said as he worked on his pants, “But I assure you it won’t be happening tonight, so I think a little test is in order. You need to prove you can submit before you go any further.”  You nodded meekly, already horny and resigned to your fate.   “Well go on, suck.”  You shuffled forward, feeling Ben’s large fingers twisting softly in your hair to guide you. Bracing yourself for his fist to tighten or for him to force you down his shaft, you pressed your lips to his tip. But he defied your expectations, his hands leaving you altogether once he had you in place. It was strange but you didn’t complain, focusing instead on his cock.  Ben sighed in pleasure as you brought a spit wet palm up to stroke his shaft, your mouth busy becoming acquainted with his tip, but otherwise he made little acknowledgement of your actions. Instead he preoccupied himself getting undressed.   You felt more than saw him shimmy out of his jacket, flinging it unceremoniously to the floor behind him. Next came the sound of his wristwatch being placed, much more carefully, on the hall stand beside you. A moment later his cufflinks joined it. When he took off his dress shirt you had to pause your bobbing, letting him fall from your lips as you pulled back to watch. He did have a very nice chest, you remembered that from last time, and you were sure he’d take your looking as a complement.   Ben flashed you a pleased look as he noticed you, allowing you to watch as he slipped the shirt from his arms and dropped it to the floor, but once it was off he considered the show over. His fist was once again in your hair, this time much more forcefully tugging you back towards his cock.   “I didn’t tell you to stop.” he drawled as you got your lips around his tip and felt his palm pushing you further down his length.   You managed okay to start but without being able to control your pace as much you couldn’t keep from gagging as you took Ben deeper.   Ben hummed, clearly satisfied with the sound, his hand loosening a little as a reward.   You took the hint and found a rhythm that pleased him, working yourself up and down his shaft, your hand stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. You gagged a few more times as you pushed yourself further, but Ben definitely enjoyed it when you did.  All of a sudden he stopped you, both hands in your hair to keep you from moving.   “I think you’re ready now, hands off.”  You had no idea what he thought you were ready for but you did as he said, partly because you wanted to prove him wrong about your ability to follow orders, but mostly because you were very turned on and wanted to hurry up and get to the bit where he’d fuck you for real. The thought was distracting enough that you were caught off guard as he pressed his hips forward, pushing more of his cock than you were ready for towards your throat. You gagged again and Ben groaned. 

“Good girl, just take it.” He said grunted as he thrust into your mouth again, and then again, not worrying about going slow.  Your hair was tangled tight in his fingers, keeping you from moving too far from where he wanted you. Instinct made you try to lean back a little but aside from Ben’s grip, you were too close to the door to get very far. You heard Ben’s knuckles bump against it, the solid wood an intimidating barrier behind you that made it clear you had little choice but to do as Ben wanted. You assumed that if you’d tapped out, Ben would have let you, but you didn’t want to. Ben had been right when he’d said it was hot to be used. You were already very wet but your pussy ached as he fucked your mouth, denying you what you really wanted so he could take what would satisfy him. Each shift of his hips made indecent wet sounds as saliva built up and dripped onto your chin and he pulled more gags from your throat. Tears pooled in your eyes but Ben didn’t seem to care. He kept up fucking you for longer than you might have expected if you’d been able to think clearly enough to guess. Especially with how turned on he must have been, just based on the groans and moans he made as he used you. But finally Ben seemed to reach a limit of just how much pleasure he could withstand. His hips sped up, and he grunted each word on a new thrust as he said, “Gonna fucking cum. You better fucking swallow.”  You blinked more tears from your eyes which Ben took as compliance with his wants as he got himself off, rutting against your tongue until he stopped, keeping you pinned between his hips and the door as he filled your mouth with cum. Ben pulled out quickly which you were thankful for. You’d been able to steal breaths throughout the blowjob but had unwittingly held your breath as he finished, and were eager to be free. He took half a step back, hands rising to his hips as he stared you down, daring you to recoil at the taste of his cum or worse still to spit it out. Between heavy breaths through your nose your swallowed, fighting the urge to wipe your eyes or face.  “Good girl,” Ben cooed as if he’d expected a brattier display, “I knew that fem dom shit was just a cry for attention. This was what you really wanted all along.”  You shook your head so that you could at least say you tried to disagree, but Ben was more concerned with tucking his cock away again and missed the display of defiance altogether. Once he was sorted he helped you up, taking a moment to examine your face before dragging his thumbs under your eyes to clear up the mascara that had transferred there.  “Pointless,” he muttered softly when he realised he was mostly just spreading the mascara around, “I’m sure it wont be the last you cry tonight. Unless of course you want to admit you’re nothing more than a desperate whore and beg for my cock.”  “I’m not begging,” you frowned, sure he’d be quicker to give in once he got close to your pussy.   Ben just smiled, “You will. For now I want you on the bed.”  You made to move down the hall but he stopped you before you made it more than a step.   “Wait. There’s a rule I have. Whores aren’t allowed to wear clothes past this point. I might make an exception for nice lingerie but not tonight. Not for you.” He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of stripping for him, pulling the zip of your dress down and tugging on your dress until it slipped down to join the mess of discarded menswear on the floor, quickly followed by your bra. “Mmmm,” he hummed as his eyes raked over your naked body, “Perfect. Bed, now.” A spank landed on your arse cheek and you hurried ahead of him, able to feel Ben’s eyes on your arse for the whole length of the corridor.  

The upside of being on the bed before Ben had even entered the room was that you had ample time to admire how good he looked without a shirt. You openly ogled him as he moved to the cupboard, taking a moment to dig something out, though his delicious back was blocking your view of what it was. Although your preoccupation with his naked chest also meant you weren’t as observant as you might otherwise have been. You were too distracted to notice him tuck something into his pocket, and you entirely missed it when he began speaking, only realising when he seemed to address you.  “-only fair I get to do the same to you, right?”  You blinked, knowing you’d missed something but not wanting to let on because you knew he’d be a dick about it.   As it was he raised his eyebrows and prompted you to respond, “Well? It’s a simple question. You’re not normally this ditzy, did sucking me off make you too horny to think?”  You shook your head, “No Sir, I thought it was rhetorical.”   For a moment you weren’t sure your gambit had worked but then Ben laughed, “Almost a shame you’re not so cockdumb yet. But maybe you’re right,” Ben strode around to the top right corner of the bed, squatting slightly to pull something from under the mattress, “My expectation was that you’d agree.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged it back, fitting a black loop around it.   As he tightened the restraint you realised what he’d been talking about. That this was pay back for when you’d tied him to the yacht’s bed. He’d been eager for it then, practically walked you through tying sailor worthy knots with the rope, but you couldn’t blame him for wanting to see you bound to his bed in the same way. So you just wriggled yourself into a little more comfort as he rounded the bed and restrained your other wrist too.   “Now what are you going to do to me?” you pouted at him coyly, feeling a little like you were poking a bear.   “I already told you.” he said, kneeling on the end of the bed, “I’m going to make you beg.”  That was when he revealed what he’d taken from his cupboard and tucked into his pocket. The vibrator wasn’t huge but it was powerful, making you jolt as he pressed it to your clit.  You squirmed but the wrist cuffs kept you from being able to move too far from its buzzing and you couldn’t help but moan as your long denied orgasm built.   Ben quickly stopped the toy, replacing it with his fingers, dragging them through the wetness between your lips, “Go on whore, tell me you want my cock in this needy cunt.”  You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from moaning again as his fingers entered you easily. He thrust them in and out of you a few times before bringing the vibrator back to your clit. Whenever Ben sensed you were getting close he’d stop touching you entirely. Sometimes even before you were close, preferring to hedge his bets and stop early rather than risk giving you the orgasm. It would undercut his dominance if you came earlier than he wanted, even if he ruined it. So he was careful with how he edged you. He alternated between his fingers and the vibe. When he felt you were enjoying yourself too much he’d intentionally ignore your clit. You’d be left with three of his fingers pumping into you, hearing Ben make pleased little hums when he found spots within you that made you whine or gasp. When that didn’t seem to be enough to make you give in he upped the ante, pressing the tip of the vibrator into you. It didn’t stretch you as much as his fingers (or his cock) did, but the patterns of vibrations when he turned it on made up for what it lacked in size.

While you’d already decided you’d let Ben have it his way, part of you still wanted him to have to work for it. Unfortunately, any ideas you had about withstanding his onslaught went out the door very quickly. You were way too worked up to hold out and the combination of his fingers and the toy he was fucking into your cunt had you begging in only a few short moments. At your first, “please Sir,” Ben laughed. “Embarrassing how easy that was,” he smirked, “I expected more but I guess you really are just one of my whores.” You whined as he removed the vibrator and his fingers, worried the edging would continue all night. “S’pose it’s about time I fuck you properly. Lord knows im stiff for it.” You watched as he undid his zip and finally removed his pants, his cock semi hard again, and you couldn’t keep yourself from begging again. “Only one question left. How should I do it? Flip you over and take you from behind?” He wrapped his fist around his cock and you whimpered as he stroked himself harder, “Make you ride me? I know how much you like being on top. Think I like the idea of seeing you under me too much for that. This time anyway. No, I know what I want.” His breath came a little harder as he moved onto the bed, cock still in hand as he pushed your legs open again. “I want you to watch me while I fuck you. I want you right where you are, tied up, incapable of dominating me. You’ll soon see how much you like it.” As he spoke he pressed against your hole, teasing you one final time before he finally gave you what you wanted. His cock slipped in easily, and Ben’s groan was nearly as loud as yours. At another time, with free hands and a clearer mind, you might have enjoyed that more, knowing Ben was as desperate as you were. But after so much edging and teasing, you could only focus on how good and full you felt. Ben’s eagerness extended beyond just sounds of delight too. Any plans he might have had to draw it out, go slow and deep to torment you more, went out the window as soon as he felt you clench around his shaft. His hips jolted forward, cock sinking into your audibly wet cunt, and he couldn’t help but do it again and again, falling into a rapid rhythm. Barely half his length made it in you, his thrusts too rapid to allow him to get much deeper, but it didn’t matter. The feeling of him dragging against your walls would have been enough, but Ben also added a thumb to your clit. He rubbed you messily, more concerned with how it felt to be inside you, but you didn’t need much stimulation to get close again. “Cum,” he said simply when you moaned about how good he felt. He fucked you through the first orgasm, praising you for being such a good whore, not even relenting when you were panting, no longer arching under him. “You’re going to cum again, sweetheart” he ordered, pounding into you with a particularly hard thrust that made your head spin. A slight breathlessness was the only sign he was at all worked up, which just added to his control, and all you could do was nod in agreement, sure you would cum as many times as he wanted no matter how hard it became. Ben chuckled, clearly pleased with how fucked out and compliant you were, but focused his energy into fucking you rather than any banter. You squirmed a little more, a touch sensitive after your first orgasm, but not uncomfortably so, and your second came up quickly too, your body eager for release after being denied it for so long. Ben didn’t last much longer either, the feeling of your cunt tightening round his cock again enough to undo him. He groaned more and more as he got closer, finally pressing himself as deep as you could take him as he hit his release with a satisfied moan.

Ben collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you comfortingly into the mattress as his lips found your neck. He was breathing harder now, the puffs of warmth tickling your skin.   You groaned as you tried to shift under him, your thighs aching from being spread open, but you found you couldn’t close them since Ben was still filling you.   “Uh uh uh,” he tutted into your skin, “Didn’t say you could shut your legs.” He pushed himself back up, leaning back to look at himself disappearing into you, “You look good like this.”  You shivered as he ran a finger around where you were stretched around his length, your wrists jolting in the bonds.   Ben remained thoughtfully silent for a moment, absentmindedly touching your pussy and your thighs, as he took in your dishevelled and restrained appearance.   “I think I want to see you cum again.”   “Again?” you whimpered, partly from his touch and partly from his tone.  He answered by reaching for the vibrator again, pressing it to your clit and holding it there until he’d forced a third orgasm from you, just because he could.  It was good but a lot, your body more sensitive now, and unable to move as freely as you’d have liked. There was no escaping the stimulation, no shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrations or to spread them over more of your cunt than just your clit. You had to take it the way Ben wanted you to, the vibrators setting higher than you would have chosen, pressed firmly in place until your toes curled and your thighs shook.   Ben pulled out as you neared the climax, so that when you came he could watch his own release dribble onto the sheets, grinning cockily at the sight.  When he was finally satisfied, he turned the toy off and let you collapse, chuckling as he leaned over to free you from the restraints. Gently he rubbed your wrists, making sure you were okay as you gathered your senses.   “What was it you said about me not caring if my whores get off?” he asked, flopping on top of you again.  You wanted to come back with something clever but your brain was still too hazy to manage anything more than, “Oh shut up.”  “You beg real fucking pretty by the way. It’s obvious I’m the best you’ve had.”   You rolled your eyes at his smirking, the insufferable way he was speaking reigniting your desire to put him in his place, “Keep being such an ass and I’ll have to pick out a toy to use on you.” You squeaked as Ben cut you off, grabbing your cheeks so your lips were pushed into a pout.  “No. Eager and willing sluts don’t threaten their Sir’s. While you’re here, you’re mine,” his hand covered your cunt possessively, “I’m going to want you again tonight and I expect you to keep being the good girl I know you secretly love being.”  You swallowed thickly, nodding in his grasp.  Ben let you go and, as if to soften his words or placate you, added, “But maybe tomorrow I’ll let you tell me some of your silly ideas, see if you can convince me they’re more fun than fucking my new toy brainless.” 

[residentdormouse]

In another round of 'Mouse is Over-analyzing Gale Scenes Too Much'

Honestly, I feel stupid for not fully getting this in the first run. (Am I now playing the same Tav, with mostly the same choices, to capture clips that I missed before I fully realized this was going to be a massive hyperfix? Psh. No! Can't be.) But to be fair, I had no real knowledge of this game, or DnD at all for that matter, coming into this. All I knew is Tumblr kept posting about this one damn vampire, and I was curious what the appeal was. Nobody ever told me there was a wizard that was bound to take over all my thoughts...

Anyway, digressing.

So, you're all tadpoled, right? Scrambling around after surviving the crash, and being dumped straight into goblin, siren, hag, absolute bullshit and what have you. There's a nice down moment at camp, and you decide to go talk to the cheeky wizard that has caught your eye.

Weave lesson? Sure, why not? You love listening to him enthusiastically ramble on. Ridiculously endearing, truth be told. And what could it hurt? Yeah, you got your magic, but it's unpredictable. A gift and a curse. With things as they stand, you and your hodgepodge band of lovable rapscallions could use all the help you can get. (Yeah, yeah. Half-elf wild magic sorcerer. Fell right into that seeming majority of Galemancers with this one.)

But then... Poof.... Strange purple nonsense...

Did you do that? Gods, what's going to happen this time?! Damn this wild magic... Or is this just the start of another new predicament in the ever growing madness that is your life now?

But then you look over at Gale. He's not worried. He's beside you, and it's comforting. Instantly.

The little smile that takes over here... The slight shift in expression from unease to solace. Serenity. Just from his reassurance and proximity. Testing the waters. Teetering the outskirts of a bond that is just beginning in it's formation.

I don't know why, but this one hit me hard today.

Also bonus point observed:

"Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

While not the outcome you envisioned, your feelings are accepted. Not just accepted. 'Welcomed'. The prospect of a connection between you brought him a feeling of elation. A warmth that radiated from the inside out and wrapped around the both of you with a blissful tingling sensation.

...but only for a second...

General feeling of intimacy? Sure. It's one of the many benefits of being connected to the weave. Letting your imagination go where it will? Fine. It could be indulged; what does it really matter anyway. But wait, there's reciprocation? Moment shut down immediately.

Mystra, you jealous bitch....

[candlemouse]

Not Like Other Unicorns

Kendra and Seth discover Ronodin’s most embarrassing secret—he’s a natural blonde!

I posted a snippet over a year ago in this post!

Ao3 Link 1.7k words

With years of peace under their belt, the Knights of Dawn moved toward rehabilitation for certain enemies. Ronodin quickly weaseled his way into a position at Fablehaven, and although many complained, his presence kept the preserve interesting. At least, he seemed to think so. After all, anyone would be lucky to be graced with his presence.

The plastic gloves crinkled as Ronodin spread the black dye across his light grown-in roots. “Damn it. I wish my hair grew slower.”

Kendra laughed. “I can’t believe you’re a fake.”

She leaned against the bathroom mirror from her perch on the counter. Fondness tugged at her smile.

Ronodin scoffed and straightened. A fake? How rude. The little dye brush that came in the dye box stood tall in his hand as he gestured to her. “I have never lied about my hair color.”

“No, but it was always implied that you were dark-haired due to your darkness.” Kendra accentuated the last word with a spooky tone. “Because, really? Platinum blonde? You’re basically Bracken at this point.”

“Shut up. And he’s literally my cousin, Kendra. If one were thinking correctly.” He paused his application to send her a raised eyebrow. “It would make sense that relatives look alike.”

Kendra shook her head. “But, see, you’re a unicorn. You shouldn’t have to abide by such rules.”

“You act like we don’t have genetics.”

“Fairies look radically different from their parents.”

“Fairies are different and weird. And annoying.”

Kendra clutched her pearls. “Ronodin. This aggression—so unlike you.”

“I am never asking you for help ever again.”

“Hey, can I text Seth?”

Ronodin furrowed his eyebrows. “Text him what?”

“That you’re blonde.”

“Why?”

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal?” Kendra batted her eyelashes.

Ronodin narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Tell him. It’s not like I care,” he muttered.

Ronodin set his paintbrush down and surveyed his handiwork. His roots were mostly covered, but he couldn’t see the back of his head that well. “Kendra, could you—”

The door burst open. Once the young shadow charmer caught his breath, he pointed and laughed at Ronodin. The disrespect.

Ronodin rolled his eyes. “I could smite all of you.”

“Ronodin, you’re literally Bracken now,” Seth guffawed.

“Why did both of you say that?” Ronodin threw up his hands, forgetting he had the brush in his hand. A glob flew off the bristles and straight onto Kendra’s hair. “Oh, Kendra, I’m so sorry—”

She merely used it to slick a few strands of hair. “Now I’ll have a dark streak. Does this mean I’m a dark unicorn now?”

“Yeah, Ronodin, did you dye your hair before or after you corrupted your horns?” Seth teased. “Did the blonde just not go with your brand anymore?”

“Out.” Ronodin pointed to the door.

“Oh, you know what, Kendra?” Seth hopped up on the counter beside her. Those two together were absoltuely terrifying. Ronodin would know—he’s been a victim of their terrorism together. “I bet Bracken knows.”

Continue reading here!

(It was too long and too much of a hassle to format it all here. Please consider dropping a comment or kudos on Ao3 if you enjoyed! It can be tough out here in these small fandoms, but we have strong community <3)

[scrambledmegsandbacon]

Meg Book Review

Thrum - Meg Smitherman

🐛/5

Thrum is a supposedly steamy sci-fi horromance novella (whew). Suggested to me by supervisor, who is very into dark romance and romance in general, I was wanting to branch out and try something new.

The story follows Ami, an astronaut(? Space explorer?) as she wakes up from her space slumber to find her crew dead. She’s all alone in deep space. Not knowing what else to do, she sends out a distress signal that is miraculously picked up. Enter Dorian (ohh yeah, the alien is named Dorian, after Dorian Gray), a hyper intelligent being with a hyper weird ship. As Ami finds solace and comfort in not being alone anymore, strange things happen, and the ship’s continuous steady thrum seems to be hiding something sinister…

I think my takeaway is… eh.

Not to try and sound like a snob, but this is a very booktok-y book— the whole thing is marketed solely by trope and I feel like a handful of those tropes are not actually present in the story. What kills me is that, for the most part, the writing rocks. Smitherman writes discombobulation and weird and freaky very well, it’s just that it was too short to develop anything beyond a surface level.

Let’s get into the nitty gritty! Spoilers ahead!

What worked:

- Fantastic writing that lent itself wel to the disorient that the protagonist is experiencing.

- Atmosphere and horror worked, which can be tough to get right

- I thought the twist (the big one, of “we’ve done this all before”) worked great!!

What didn’t work for me:

- it didn’t feel romantic… at all. For being a supposed “horromance” I didn’t feel like there was much of a real romance going on. Just the compelled part? But it was always told rather than shown

- I’m sorry, but the protagonist being into Edwardian hotties and having the alien pick up on that was NUTS and just too far out of my suspension of disbelief

- I think the novella format didn’t quite work. As a result, the worldbuilding and character motivations were lacking (or maybe it was the other way around; lacking and was short to distract from it)

- Cover art, while cool, makes it a bit predictable. It feels more like fan art than a cover

- I don’t really care about anyone oops— could be a matter of the book being too short, the characters mostly all being dead, or thee Ed mad dash to forced chemistry, who knows

Maybe I don’t like romance as a genre, it’s totally possible. I think it needs to ride a fine line to not be too much or too insignificant. I need to care about it too, I need to be able to see the sparks and not just be told they’re there. I think at the end of the day, Thrum is not a romance story, it’s a sexual fantasy, which is fine. Not for me, but clearly enjoyed by a wide group of people, so you know what, get that bag. For me though, I’m gonna have to say 1.25/5 rating. The writing was fun.

I don’t think I’ll be picking up anything else by Smitherman, just because her stuff isn’t what I like and that’s okay! My last few reviews make it sound like I don’t like reading, and that’s not true! I think that with so much range available and me fine-tuning my own personal taste, I need to sift through and find my niche, what I like to read. And not everything will fit into that, but I think it’s still important to try new things and to branch out.

Okay byeeee

[duckapus]

Southern Magnamiel:

"Chaos!"

A miniature blizzard saturated in darkness cuts through the mountain air, blowing apart a particularly large crowd of ghosts before they can do anything to the family of cats and pair of Lakitu tourists they'd cornered. As the strange spell finishes, its caster is revealed; a lanky brown cat in strange half-armored red and white clothes and a ragged cape. She turns to address them.

"There's a guard house two streets west, you'll be safer there."

The group makes haste after taking a few brief moments to thank her for saving them, and once they're gone she glares up at the unnatural storm.

After she'd found Tiresias's note, Dapple's fine-tuned adventurer's instincts had intuited that things were about to go to shit, most likely due to whatever the hell Damian must have been doing that involved messing with everyone's heads so they'd ignore the massive red flags he'd been waving around. So, she'd begun making her way through the mountains towards Devos, changing into her old outfit (though not her old species) since her usual dress isn't exactly Proper Adventuring Attire.

And of course, a few hours in, all hell breaks loose, and quite literally from the looks of it. A thick layer of sickly green clouds hangs over the entire continent, blocking out the sun, with the only breaks in it being nine swirling, glowing vortexes that are hemorrhaging ghosts. Mostly cats, of course, but a massive number of the various monsters and magical creatures that inhabit Harmonia as well. If she remembers her geography lessons properly, the nearest of them is somewhere above the border between Magnamiel and Luminos, while the largest is in the middle of Devos, maybe a bit to the west. That one makes the most sense as her target, especially since she'd been going there anyway.

Path now set, she takes off at a run.

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

Eastern Devos

...Yeah not sure what to actually put here so I'll just say that Tonio and Piper are making good use of their new ghost-hunting tech and fighting their way across the kingdom towards either the castle or the seal, depending on where Damien/Disc is at the moment. They're being guided by Tonio's "intuition" (aka undiagnosed clairvoyance), so they've got a good idea of where they need to go but I don't.

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

Cilcia's Capital

"Hold your ground, men!"

The battalion of royal guards do their best to keep formation in the face of their spectral enemies, bravely defending the civilians behind them with blade and shield and song as they evacuate to the designated shelters. They're vastly outnumbered, however, the force spread thin across the sprawling city, and they're slowly but surely losing ground.

And then a massive blur of greens and browns surges in, the telltale glint of polished steel on either side of it, and dives straight into the spectral tide, sending the ghosts into a frenzy that causes most of them to take their attention off the soldiers.

After several moments of chaos punctuated by unholy shrieks and the clashing of blades, the ghosts scatter, revealing the battalion's savior.

What they see is a brown, vaguely birdlike creature as tall as a building, draped in a heavy green cloak with a matching (and rather stylish) wide-brimmed hat. A light brown scarf with ragged ends trails behind it, waving in the wind, and in its three-clawed hands is a pair of long bladed weapons with oddly shaped handles... recognizable to some as the separated halves of a massive pair of gardening shears. When the creature is first revealed, one of these blades is stabbed clean through the ghost of a Cymbal Troll, which seems to be absorbed into it.

It looks out over the group, its glowing blue eyes seeming to pierce into their souls, then nods once and runs once more down the street, leaving them to wonder exactly what sort of god just saved them.

As he runs, ClearAll grumbles under his breath. Just his luck that he'd decide to come here for a change of scenery the exact same day that some moron decides to start up some kind of ghost apocalypse. And worse, if he's correctly reading the code signature of the static interference that's blocking his portals, he knows exactly which moron it is. It had admittedly taken him a few minutes to recognize the signature, but to be fair it'd been well over a decade outside the computer and relative centuries inside, and the program in question hadn't been particularly memorable apart from the company they kept. Even now he couldn't remember the poor fool's name.

Rolling his eyes, he briefly goes over his list of priorities. Firstly, the thing he's been doing; traveling through the city and aiding anyone who's being overwhelmed by the ghosts, mostly by gathering the wayward souls into his shears to deposit into this world's afterlife once it's re-sealed. Steps two and three are to actually do said re-sealing and kick the moron's ass, the order depending on which makes sense to do first at the time, hopefully with the aid of this world's heroes.

He'd love to go beyond an ass-kicking, frankly, but while he feels that the moron's time has long since passed his programming disagrees. Of course, given just how many powerful people this scheme would piss off, he felt confident in predicting that their time is at least fast approaching.

His gaze flicks to the side, detecting a mass of incoming deaths that Need Not Be, and he shifts trajectory and readies himself for another bout.

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

Luminos Castle, moments after the ritual

As the bizarre green clouds roll in, Ash tears his gaze away from the panicking Admin and her patient, closing his eyes to get a good look at what's happening in the sky with Aura Sight, and gasps.

"Incoming!"

Less than a second later, the vortexes appear and the ghosts come pouring out. While most of them spread out across the continent, large clusters seem to specifically target the Capital cities of each kingdom (except, rather expectedly, in Devos and Desiderio), and as a result the castle is about to get absolutely swarmed.

There's a series of flashes as the three Trainers let out several of their Pokémon.

Miku is the first to start dishing out orders, turning her attention to her oddly green-tinged Dragonair, "Night Concert variation G-7, with light show. Cover as much of the castle as you can."

Dragonair nods and shoots out through the nearest open window, and soon enough the air around the castle grounds comes alive as she weaves together an intricate, maze-like array of barrier moves, Tailwind, Aurora Veil, and even a few seemingly randomly-placed bubbles of Trick Room. While this blocks the main bulk of the spectral swarm, at least for now, several are either fast enough to have gotten past before the full blockade was up or crafty enough to make their way through without having to brute-force it.

Which is where the rest of the group comes in, having already gone outside to meet the ghosts head on.

"Golduck, Bob-ulk, Flash Cannon barrage!"

Exactly as Jet had ordered, the rage-fueled kappa and oversized purple mortar shell fire dozens of orbs of silvery energy up into the swarm which detonate as they hit, causing the weakest of the ghosts to dematerialize entirely and the rest of them to be scattered and disoriented. This makes them prime targets for the projectiles of the other Pokémon, though some ghosts seem to resist or outright ignore some attacks.

With another round of Aura Sight, Ash works out what's going on, "Guys, it looks like some of them have an extra type! It's probably based on what kind of magic they specialized in when they were alive."

That fits with my observations, comes a telepathic reply, Most of the ones that are ignoring our electric attacks are wearing Monaxian fashion, from what I can see.

The telepath in question is Jellibelum, Ash's fully evolved Donandan Water Starter. The Jellyfish part is now as large as Bob-ulk with eight tendrils coming off of it, four coming from the bottom "lip" of the bowl and acting as legs, while the other four come from the sides (as defined by the way the goldfish is facing) and all eight have three finger(or toe)-like phalanges positioned around an opening at their bulbous ends. The goldfish part's brainlike crest is significantly larger, and now attached to the jellyfish by what look like nerves, while the main body is now long and thin, with the tail fins atrophying to almost nothing (they're not exactly all that necessary now that the two organisms are one and the fish outright can't leave the bowl), while the dorsal fin is now long, white, and drapes horizontally like a cape, though with the pectoral fins doing something similar it all comes together to look more like a labcoat.

Anyway, with their new strategic knowledge they make reasonably short work of the ghosts inside the castle grounds, and with the blockade holding for now (especially with Dragonair continuing to refresh and redesign it even as the ghosts keep picking away at it) most of them head back inside to discuss what the hell is going on, and hopefully figure out a plan. Though a few Pokémon do stay outside to help the guards with any ghosts that do make it through, including Ash's Kirlia and Krookodile (because Dark Type) and Jet's Eevee (because Normal Type's ghost immunity).

(Also, Ash finds out about the interference that Disc is causing (whether intentionally or not) when he tries and fails to open a small portal so he can transfer in more of his Pokémon, and it's then confirmed when one of Melody's aides shows up to inform them that the Hyperlink Gate isn't working.)

[inventors-fair]

Together Together: Partner winners!

Our winners this week are @hanavesinauttija, @izzet-always-r-versus-u, and @mudthing!

@hanavesinauttija — Sickly Patrician & Melodious Nightingale

Most people know me as a flavor guy around these parts, and if I had to judge this card based on the flavor text, I'd say that it's delving into the purple language a wee bit heavily and that you can tone down the poetic nature of the dialogue. The inspiration is quite interesting, though, and mechanically, I love the smoothness with which you created this union. The exchange of treasures and life is fine for the bodies and their utility, and if I am going to be down for the flavor, I like the usage of Noble as a type here and the fact that even though you don't have to, it makes sense for the owner of the Nightingale to repay the Patrician.

Really, what I like here is the targeting. 2HG isn't much of an online format as far as I'm aware, so there's no misclicks, and in commander/multiplayer games, the ability to heal someone as a political move is neat to me as well. 2HG seems to be the place where there's going to be the most application, but there's room for either card in casual artifact decks, lifegain decks, etc. without the burden of single-archetype cards. A little ramp on the black side helps the white decks later in the game, and overall, keeping the team alive and strong feels like it's asking a lot strategically without getting crazy complicated.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Towashi Casino Dealer & Kami of Reclaimed Coins

Weirdly enough, this one is a pair I'm enjoying MOSTLY for the flavor. A spirit-touched dealer is a crazy addition to the world of Kamigawa (but honestly, gambling is a universal touch I'm more down with than that effing DJ table from NEO) but what a flavorful win they are. Modifications and artifacts play mechanically into the feeling that Kamigawa limited was going for, and yeah, it's still one of the best draft formats period, with this card for sure fitting in. Everyone place your bets!

The one thing I'm wondering mechanically about the spirit is if you could justify having it remove a counter from any creature? Or, wait, it probably should also be artifacts or creatures—but that's small potatoes compared to that awesome flavor text. The image of coins gives me No Face vibes, if that counts or matters at all. But what's the relationship between them? It's fascinating, having this spirit that falls in between a representation of shunting greed and hoarding the tangible, asking what is offered of it, lunging at the opportunity. Luck has no bearing on debt. Man, that's cool. I just love the small spiritual worldbuilding that's also made for a great overall pair of cards.

@mudthing — Fangbound Prowler & Bonded Fangmother

Once more, we have a black and white pair that implies team-based building without explicitly saying it. There's nothing wrong with having cards that talk about the team, and I liked a lot of them that were here, but the bonding works especially well here because of how it forces you to stop and think about the relationship with your fellow player. Plus, in a commander game, you can use this card to stealthily kill someone you don't like. Just to touch on a mechanical portion with the Fangmother, I think you could have made this a 2/3 without too much trouble, but the card's still great.

Here's the awesome flavor portion: the cat is a solo wild predator. You attack, you get the cats. There's nothing team-based about it. But when you have the prowler and one summons the other, the prowler now has the impetus and responsibility to buff these wild creatures. Like, I get a sense of independence from the cats that the Prowler can use once they're bonded together to increase their overall power and gain the life back. Does that make any sense whatsoever? I might be a little loopy but damn if that doesn't hit in a neat place. I wish Ikoria evoked that more honestly.

Runners coming up soon! @abelzumi

[ohnoooooooooooo]

something i feel that is unexplored within the fandom (new to tumblr so uhh maybe im wrong) is aus and stardew. i love aus. im embracing my cringe. so here’s a short thing i might make into a bot or perhaps i’ve already made into the bot by the time i post this. i don’t know. hehe. i’m not a very good writer btw

on that same note, sorry if the formatting is weird. like i said im a bit new to tumblr and i only use mobile really so im definitely figuring things out. this also means i had to manually do indents which was annoying. i’m getting off task ummm continue reading for fluffy wlw stuff!!

haley. the princess and her gardener. (canon and oc)

In many ways, Haley’s life revolved around appearances. She didn’t particularly mind— in fact, she quite enjoyed being dressed up and pretty most of the time. What she did mind, however, was trying to appear queenly. She was the younger of the two princesses; Emily was the elder and by all accounts, heir to the throne. Not Haley. All of the responsibility should fall on her sister’s shoulders.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t panning out that way. The King and Queen went off on some spiritual journey around the world. Something like that, Haley hadn’t been listening much once she realized the implications. It’s been two years already and Haley wasn’t hopeful they’d return anytime soon. So that just leaves her and Emily, forced to make joint decisions because of some stupid old laws and even dimmer, even older council members insisting upon it.

Regardless, she found ways to pass her time. Mostly in the form of Adala, a gardener for the palace. Neither of them followed the implicit rules of higher society— Haley because she found her cute, and she suspects Adala just didn’t consider herself a part of all that.

Speaking of…

“You’re certain that you won’t get in trouble for bringing these?” Haley asked, setting the vase of sunflowers Adala brought on her vanity. She smiled. The flowers would enjoy the sun coming from the large window nearby.

“It’ll be fine,” Adala assured her. She wrung her hands together for a moment but was quick to pivot and hide them in her tunic pockets when Haley turned. “They’re one of the only flowers here that are kept because they’re pretty. And I didn’t even take all of them.”

Haley chuckled. She reached, carefully pulling away a small leaf that seemed to have landed in her hair. “As long as you’re sure.” She tossed the leaf onto the floor. Adala’s eyes flickering, the twitch of her arm like she was going to pick it up— none of it escaped her notice. Servants would deal with the damn leaf later. She had more pressing matters. “Leaves in your hair. Every time I see you, you’re all dirty.” She tutted.

Adala smiled slightly. “Every time I see you.. you’re mean.”

A pause. “You’re terrible at comebacks.”

They shared a laugh. Adala didn’t let the topic drop completely, though. “Not all of us have the energy to shop endlessly for clothes.”

“You should try it. It’s fun.” Haley took Adala’s hand in her own. It was a bit tan from her outdoor work, palms calloused and almost worn. “I’d take you with me and buy you some clothes, but.. Emily is already giving me passive-aggressive comments about how much time I spend in the gardens.”

“Yeah, for someone who hates dirt, you sure do,” Adala murmured with a shake of her head.

Haley scoffed, pretending to be offended for a moment. “I can’t believe you would say I don’t like dirt. I’m so fond of you, after all.” She took the resulting light punch to her shoulder with a quiet giggle. “Hey. That one was funny.”

“It was,” Adala admitted in a long-suffering sigh. “But you’re still terrible.” She tugged on the hand holding hers to bring Haley a little closer.

Haley let out a small breath from her nose, bumping her forehead against Adala’s. “You know, my tastes in fashion aren’t completely petty.”

“I do know.”

Haley closed her eyes. They were, in part, petty. There was nothing wrong with that, not as far as she could tell, but she’d been around long enough to know fashion was just as much a political tool as it was a hobby. Emily didn’t seem to care which, whatever, but someone had to care for such things! And if not Haley, then who? Where would such apathy leave her family, her people—

“Stop thinking so much,” Adala interrupted her thoughts. She cupped Haley’s cheek, brushing a gentle thumb over her while she waited for her expression to relax. “You’re making that face you say I always make.”

“Am not.” Haley tilted her head into her hand. She’d grown to appreciate the callouses that betrayed a life the princess was entirely unfamiliar with.

“You are. It’s alright, I forgive you.” Adala chuckled at her own words and kissed Haley, shutting her eyes.

Haley’s arms circled her waist to keep her close, even when their lips parted. In contrast to her calloused hands, Adala’s lips were softer than the finest silk Haley had ever been gifted. She kissed her again and again, never quite sure when the next would be. If they separated now, like they probably should so Adala could get on with her job, it could be a week. A month. Far too long for the princess to like.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

As you may have noticed, I'm big on the benefit of the doubt, aka there's more truth and knowledge in knowing you don't know than pretending you do. The pundits pretending to be neurologists with a specialty in gerontology that qualifies them to condemn Biden's brain don't actually have either the expertise or the evidence to reach the conclusions they are airing. They're in a sort of mass-hysteria bandwagon to sabotage the current alternative to Trump, which is as dangerous as it is familiar from the 2016 election.

Meanwhile fascism is staring us in the face (in the person of a man so dim he keeps boasting he did well on the kind of cognitive test given when they're actually worried about your brain: in 2020 "President Trump again sought to showcase his mental fitness on television by reciting, over and over again in an interview broadcast on Wednesday evening, what he said was a sample cognitive testing sequence." That was the “Person. Woman. Man. Camera. TV" business).

The New York Times, which has been running a concerted campaign in both news and opinion sections since at least February to convince the public that Biden is incompetent, has led the way. This is not my argument that Biden is the best candidate though he's certainly the best-placed candidate in that it's not so easy to get a new one up and running at this stage.

It's my argument that a whole lot of high-profile (mostly) men are suffering from too much faith in their own belief in their superior objectivity and cool rationality. Which is is too often why they're exceptionally unaware of the feelings/motives driving them and why they're jumping on the bandwagon. They seem to suffer from a particular kind of memory impairment: how with the same strategies, they (and, yeah, it's some of the same pundits) helped undermine the candidate running against the fascist eight years ago, led by the same newspaper.

I have come across several people who are in fact qualified in the relevant areas, and their opinions and some of the criteria for those opinions follow. A number of actual experts piped up to say that Biden's lifelong stuttering disability often has a little-known related symptom called cluttering, which I hadn't heard of. They thought it could explain some of his debate performance: "Cluttering is a speech disorder characterized by rapid or irregular speaking consisting of atypical pauses, repetitions, and disfluencies resulting in a breakdown in speech clarity and organization. In contrast, stuttering is a speech disorder characterized by the repetition of sounds or words and disruptions in the flow of speech." Some of the speech experts note that in such a situation, trying to manage a speech impediment consumes some of the mental energy that would otherwise be focused on formulating thoughts.

Meanwhile, there was an essay this spring by an actual gerontologist in the L.A. Times who says that Biden shows normal signs of aging. Dr. Stone writes: "First, memory. I explain to patients that there are three components to consider. One is formation. Then storage. And, finally, recall. The most common issue among seniors is slow recall. This is the familiar “tip of the tongue” phenomenon, when a word seems to hide or a name won’t come to mind. You know the name, it’s in your bank of memories, it just can’t be accessed quickly. Given time, it usually arrives. This problem, called age-associated memory impairment, often starts for people in their 30s and gradually progresses. It’s a nuisance but not disabling. If, like me, you find yourself using the term “whatchamacallit,” you probably have it. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine." https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2024-03-07/joe-biden-age-memory-alzheimers-cognition

Two other medical experts on aging (bios below) wrote this piece:

There is no clinical evidence for cognitive decline in President Biden — despite armchair gerontologists declaring otherwise. It may be tempting to conclude that such evidence does not exist because an extensive battery of diagnostic assessments of cognitive functioning has not been ordered (to our knowledge) by his personal physician, and if done, something significant might be revealed. But presidents are evaluated by their physicians just like everyone else — cognitive functioning tests are not done unless the physician suspects a problem or if requested by the patient. Even then, a screening test of cognitive function is done first, followed by other more in-depth diagnostic assessments if the screen shows a worrisome score. Since Biden’s personal physician seems not to have felt cognitive screening testing was medically indicated, this represents evidence that such issues are unlikely to be present consistent with his family history of dementia-free longevity. It is also common to mistake Biden’s lifelong speech impediment for cognitive decline, his cough for an inability to speak clearly, his changed gait for a man in significant decline, an occasional misstatement as a sign of mental decay, etc. Each of us bears our own challenges with age — this is not a reason to dismiss and discard. It’s a recognition that along with the privilege of long life, come changes that require adaptation. We see them in Biden because he’s under a 24/7 spotlight. Place the same bright light of the media on any of the rest of us — at any age — and few would survive the scrutiny without a similar negative profile.

Dr. Bradley Willcox, M.D., MSc, FGSA, is a professor and director of research at the Department of Geriatric Medicine, John A. Burns School of Medicine, University of Hawai‘i Mānoa.

S. Jay Olshansky, Ph.D., is a professor in the School of Public Health at the University of Illinois at Chicago, [and] a research associate at the Center on Aging at the University of Chicago.

https://thehill.com/opinion/white-house/4391046-is-joe-biden-a-superager-were-asking-all-the-wrong-questions/

(Rebecca Solnit)

[theemporium]

We’re going to bake us a really great Christmas catastrophe but first we need the ingredients:

start with a loving but insecure boyfriend that is a little clingy and needs constant reassurance, all while still trying to live his life, Lando seems like a good pick for this

next you throw in a distinguished pretty boy, a man that has been there done that and craves stability with just a dash of youthful adventure, maybe Carlos or Danny

the two main ingredients need to go well with each other, an I’ll timed long lasting mostly unrequited crush is a must, if you can’t find any homegrown store bought pining is fine

to really start our angst off we need an illtimed threesome a little while before the holidays, maybe at the end of the season. emotions are high and your man is little drunk and a lottle horny and loverboy looked especially tasty so he can’t help but finally let his attraction slip (not like you hadn’t known for ages) who could blame him, looking at his attractive friend certainly didn’t turn you off. so you ask him to bed and get both your worlds and bodies rocked several times because yes he’s just that good.

(Fell mid angst again, can’t be bothered to keep up the format)

Anyway you and Lando have a super mega awesome threesome with bestie and everything is going great until it isn’t.

You’re into Christmas so obviously you need to find the perfect gift for Lando and Carlos/Danny is hopeless when it comes to shopping for his family so you team up at his request to find the perfect gifts.

(Fell asleep again)

So obviously you start spending a lot of time together and being kinda secretive to Lando and he starts going through it. Because in your mind it’s innocent enough like yeah you fucked Carlos/Daniel and it’s been amazing you love Lando more then anything. But when Lando follows you one day he doesn’t see that. He sees dangerously close cheek kisses and him bringing you coffee and carrying your bags like it’s a date.

So Lando is sad because he thinks you changed your mind after the threesome and picked the better man and he can’t even be mad because he loves the two of you but he doesn’t want to lose you so he’s acting weird and cagey and you’re secretive and bestie is falling for you while feeling like a pos for betraying Lando

poly endgame obviously but there has to be some misinformation angst

poor baby lando😭