#remove channels

[kidsstories1]

ROKU TV: Install on Android Apps & Removing Unwanted Channels

Learn how to install Android apps on your Roku TV and customize your channel lineup. This guide covers sideloading apps, removing pre-installed channels you don't need, and organizing your Roku home screen for a personalized streaming experience.

#RokuTV #AndroidApps #SideloadingApps #RemoveChannels #UnwantedChannels #CustomizeRoku #StreamingSetup #CordCutting #SmartTVHacks #RokuTips #TechTutorials #StreamingLife #EntertainmentSetup #HomeTheater #TVApps #AppInstallation #RokuHacks #RokuCustomization #RokuHomeScreen #StreamingPlatforms #TechGuides

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[warpfactor9]

throwback to when my stepdad was watching ds9 and sent me this text at 9pm after seeing the "but maybe you like me a bit more than your wife" scene from Extreme Measures

[aethersea]

normally I don't bother questioning when a high fantasy is all "ooh the prophesied one will break the world or save it" bc that's what high fantasy is for. don't worry about it, focus on the journey, we'll get to the prophecy when we get to it. but this show has got me wondering what that even means.

the innkeeper who served the Dark said that the Dragon could break the Wheel so that there would be no more suffering, no war or famine or poverty. and the Wheel, we have been told many times, is the Wheel of reincarnation and of fate. It's the metaphor for how all of history has a cyclical bent to it, and it's a real religious belief that souls return to the world many times to live many lives.

how do you break that Wheel such that there is no more suffering? you can't bring about a perfect utopia by breaking such a Wheel. the two concepts just aren't connected at all. the only way I can see is to just......end everything. to live is to suffer, right? there's no suffering if everyone is dead.

kind of a defeatist cause to pledge yourself to, really.

[kedreeva]

Different person, but how talkative should one be to join your farm discord? It takes me a while to build up enough courage to talk in discords; but I’m really interested in birds and am thinking about getting quail down the line instead of getting more chickens.

You don't need to talk at all if you prefer to just hang out, and you can talk as much as you please if you're chatty. There's no rules about having to talk.

To help you out before you go in so you know what to expect, there are two main sets of channels- the farm set and the off the farm set; the farm set is mostly for talking about longfeather lane updates, BUT I'm perfectly happy to discuss relevant topics in those channels. I'd just like for those channels to stay, you know, relevant to their topics, since there are people there just for updates and information on specific topics.

The off the farm channels are set up for folks to chat and hang out about non-longfeather-lane stuff (general chat, posting pets, fandom, gaming, writing, that kind of thing). I have it set up so that photos from others can only be posted in these channels, to avoid any confusion about longfeather lane animals/happenings. I some of these channels muted so they don't constantly go off since people do get chatty in those, but I'm happy to be pinged to come chat!

Both of these sets you can opt into or out of, so if you JUST want to hang out in the farm updates for a bit before accessing the general chat channels, you can (or you never have to if you prefer), or vice versa.

There are only a few rules that amount to "be civil and PG-13" and "take your bitching/gloom-and-doom and elsewhere."

[freshwater--mermaid]

maybe calling him New Moon was an unintentional prediction all along. He's darkened, he's shadowed over, blacked out entirely from what he used to be. Honestly the name pairs very well with Dark Sun. They are both eclipsed by darkness.

[sometimesanequine]

hey, listen to me. are the rubber bits of your shoes stained? you can get that out by taking an old toothbrush and scrubbing at it with a paste of baking soda and water :}

[theflyingfeeling]

helloooo I'm back to writing after a brief summer break! this time I was inspired by Joonas spilling some vague details about the Mountain Dew boyfriends and also low-key by @hotpinkandsparkly's comment on the ask I got about it 😏💓

it's nsfw but not awfully explicit, just the right amount of steamy I'd say, and I hope you like it 🔥

~

It starts out as a joke. Or maybe out of boredom, of having too much time to kill at the hotel before showtime, Aleksi is not sure. Olli poked his side, that much he remembers; a sharp stab in between Aleksi's ribs that makes him yelp out loud, more in surprise than in pain. He returns the compliment then, luring out a series of hearty giggles from Olli's mouth, and in the next moment Olli is straddling him on the bed where they had been lounging in, his eyes twinkling with mischief, darkened with how his pupils were blown from how dim it was in the room, no doubt. Looking up at his bandmate, his wicked smile and wild gaze, there's little else for Aleksi to do other than just lie underneath him helplessly as Olli's thighs pin him down to the mattress.

It starts out as Olli's hands all over him; his laughter ringing in Aleksi's ears for the rest of the day (although he doesn't know it yet); his body warmth wrapping Aleksi as if in a blanket when they wrestle. There's Olli's smell, making the room around Aleksi spin a little from how heady it is, and Olli's heavy huffs and puffs that have Aleksi's own breathing coming out in groans and gasps that mirror Olli's moves on him, from a couple of more surprise jabs to his sensitive sides to Olli's hip bones pressing against Aleksi's own with sharp thrusts whenever Aleksi tries to wriggle free. The harder he tries, however, the harder Olli pushes him down, until they're both red-cheeked and breathless and Olli's quiet laughter is tickling Aleksi's cheek.

It starts out as the look they share then, one that probably doesn't last more than a second or two, but enough for Aleksi to almost lose himself in it. He has noticed before (although he's tried not to) how pretty Olli's eyes are, with their millions of different tints and the long, dark lashes that frame them. Olli's lips – equally pretty and twice as treacherous if Aleksi was to lose control – move smoothly near Aleksi's when he speaks.

"D'you know what Joonas and I always used to do when we were bored enough?"

By now Aleksi is too aware of Olli's entire body weight all over him to form a single sensible thought, too stunned by the sudden hardness he can feel down his own shorts and against his thigh to stop his curiosity from getting the better of him.

"Tell me."

A flash of something in Olli's eyes, something that makes Aleksi's stomach turn, and Olli shifts himself on top of Aleksi.

"What if I showed you instead?"

Aleksi's heart is beating out of his chest when Olli begins rocking his hips, but he doesn't ask Olli to stop (because he doesn't want him to). He feels Olli's erection through his sweatpants and finds himself meeting Olli's thrusts, ignoring a small voice in his brain yelling at him that it's wrong (because it feels so good and right). The voice grows weaker the harder his cock grows and the faster Olli grinds on him, so that it's but a shaky whisper by the time they're full-on humping each other, foreheads sweaty and mouths dry. Olli's eyes are still piercing Aleksi's and his mouth is so close to Aleksi's own, and if Olli hadn't been the first one to look away – only to bury his face in the crook of Aleksi's neck and moan quietly – Aleksi can't promise what he would have done.

Would he have told Olli how gorgeous he looked like that, a heaven on earth with his eyes and lips and cheeks glowing, his gaze softened and glassy?

Would he have moved his hands from where they rested on either side of Olli's waist, either upwards to feel Olli's toned arms which Aleksi knew were not that firm just from a bit of yoga, or down his backside and to his bum, the sight of which often flashed in Aleksi's eyes when he stuck his hand down his boxers late at night?

Or would he have just closed the gap between their mouths to feel Olli's lips on his and finally let go of himself, finally give in to the desire that has lived inside him for so long, long enough to have made a home somewhere deep inside his chest where it kept him up at night as he wondered just how it might feel like to be loved by someone as amazing as Olli Matela?

The thought (now that it crossed his mind again after a good while of being suppressed to the best of Aleksi's willpower) nearly brings tears to his eyes, would made him whine in agony if he wasn't already whining from how good the friction on his cock felt. Just to have something to work off his frustration on, he grasps Olli's shirt with one had and brings the other to the back of Olli's head to take a fistful of his silky curls in a tight grip. By the sound of it, Olli is not opposed to this in the slightest, his groan partly muffled by a pillow, partly by Aleksi's neck where he can feel Olli's hot breath.

"So horny. Need to come." Aleksi is not sure whether Olli is talking about himself or Aleksi, but he agrees nevertheless.

"Feels fucking good," he murmurs into Olli's ear, and Olli seems to appreciate his feedback as he's now thrusting into Aleksi with more vigour and with more quiet whimpers straight into Aleksi's ear. Olli's strong thighs are holding Aleksi in place while he rubs their clothed cocks together, and his arms are on either side of Aleksi's body, but this new rhythm has Olli sneak his hand towards Aleksi's head and sink his fingers in his hair. His touch is much more gentle in comparison to Aleksi's, however, much softer, almost loving if Aleksi wouldn’t have known better, so that Aleksi has to really try and focus solely on the feeling in his cock rather than the feeling elsewhere in his body, every inch of which wanted Olli more than anything Aleksi had ever wanted in the world.

More than gold records or world tours.

More than whatever the universe had to offer him (how could any of it be even close to what Aleksi is holding in his arms right now?).

"I want–" Aleksi forces himself to swallow all the words he wants to say but can't. "I want to come so bad. Let me come."

Olli's reply is wordless; he gives Aleksi's temple one last stroke of this thumb before sitting up and sneaking his hands under Aleksi's hoodie. His hips keep rolling against Aleksi's with no pause or change in tempo, and the mere sight of Olli's hard-on through his sweatpants combined with Olli's warm fingers caressing his bare skin are enough to bring Aleksi close to the end. In the meantime, Olli has closed his eyes, and with his head thrown back and his mouth slightly open, he looks like he's not far from his climax either.

I want you so bad, Aleksi would have said, if he wasn't such a coward. Let me be yours, he would have said but didn't, because that is simply something that is not said between band members and friends.

Olli may have done it all before with Joonas, but Aleksi doubts that included teary-eyed love confessions. That's where the line is drawn.

Still, encouraged by Olli's gentle touches on his body, Aleksi slides his hands beneath the fabric of Olli's sleeveless top. He holds Olli's waist like he'd hold the waist of a lover; caresses Olli's skin as if they did this every night; pets Olli's tummy and plays with his happy trail as if he was allowed such a privilege whenever he wanted. 

Mesmerised by the look on Olli's face, mouth gaping and dark lashes resting on his cheekbones, Aleksi watches as pleasure washes over Olli's face while Aleksi's runs his thumb up and down the trail of hair below Olli's navel. Under his touch, he feels Olli's stomach clench and hears his moans becoming louder until a wet patch begins growing on the front of his pants, his cock throbbing wildly against Aleksi's abdomen.

Olli keeps on moving his hips all through his orgasm, right until Aleksi is ready for his own. If he wasn't so consumed by his climax, he'd stop to wonder about the absurdity of all: he's spilling inside his pants and Olli is there, riding him until there's nothing left of him; he closes his eyes and Olli is there again, the divine revelation of all his secret fantasies. Opening his eyes once more, the sight hovering above him is beyond anything he could have ever imagined.

Out of breath and so goddamn beautiful that it punched the air out of Aleksi's lungs, Olli was far better than all of Aleksi's dreams of him combined.

(There had been quite a few over the years, but that was another story entirely.)

Olli looks down at him with dark eyes and bites his lower lip. The gap in between his front teeth has always been endearing to Aleksi, but now, with his eyes still full of lust and his hair all unruly around his face, it looks even more adorable. Aleksi's not sure what Olli's silence means – is it expectant or regretful? – and he's not given a chance to ask before there's a knock on their door.

Aleksi can't believe his eyes when he sees Olli climb off him and off the bed and heads towards the door looking like that, with his curls tangled up and his cheeks the colour of cherry blossoms and, for crying out loud, a blotch of cum on the front of his pants with a lingering bulge leaving little for the imagination of the poor whoever was on the other side of the door. Even though Olli at last has the decency to cup his crotch a second before he unlocks the door, Aleksi is still holding his breath, for Olli's dishevelled state and the drowsy look in his eyes are an open book to anyone with eyes.

Well, anyone except Porko, maybe.

"Hey, it's almost time to leave for the venue. We're meeting in the lobby in half an hour, yeah?"

"Yeah." Olli's voice is raspy and low; hell, even Porko might figure what they've been up to (or especially Porko, for reasons Aleksi would rather ignore).

"Okay, cool. You weren't answering my texts, so I just thought I'd make sure."

"Oh." Olli glances at his phone on the bedside table, then at Aleksi. "Must have not noticed that. We were... busy."

Olli's explanations seem to alert Joonas' suspicions and he peeks his head into the room to take a look at Aleksi who's still spread on the bed with the corner of a duvet hiding the rest of the evidence of what they had been up to until Joonas came to check up on them. Aleksi feels it's in vain, though, as there probably are no fewer traces of his recent orgasm on his face than there are on Olli's.

"Busy, huh?" With that tone of voice, Joonas might as well have just asked them.

Careful not to uncover himself from under the duvet, Aleksi sits up and pretends not to listen to the whispered conversation by the doorframe.

"Was it fun?" he hears Joonas ask, and Olli mumbles something incomprehensible in response before pushing Joonas out of the room and turning to Aleksi, not bothering to mask his grin.

"Let's get going then," he says, more than a hint of amusement in his voice. They avoid each other's gazes as they change out of their cum-stained underwear but break the silence by bursting into quiet, almost nervous giggles – or at least Aleksi hopes Olli is as nervous as he is.

Already at the door, ready to join the others in the hotel lobby, Aleksi takes a deep breath and, despite the thumping of his heart almost deadening the sound of his own voice, asks what he's been wondering ever since Joonas left their room.

"So. Was it fun?"

Olli lifts his gaze from the doorknob with a fleeting flash of surprise in his eyes before his features soften again, his hair still a mess and his cheeks still rosy pink.

"It was."

"As fun as... with Joonas?"

Olli's smile widens and, although there's no one else in the room to hear their conversation, leans in to brush his lips against Aleksi's ear.

"More, actually."

He leaves a quick kiss on Aleksi's cheek and is on his way to the elevators when Aleksi is still waiting for his soul to descend back to his body. 

[br1ghtestlight]

i do genuinely wanna archive all the ii livestreams they did especially cuz the only avaliable versions for a few of them are Reuploads on random people's channels but also. the amount of storage space that would require would be CRAZY. i was thinking of maybe using an external hard drive but idk they're expensive and uploading all of them would take sooo long 😭 right now im just praying none of the videos randomly get removed

[thefinalwitness]

ko-fi | aetherlink | glamourdresser

wisdom's cloak has received an overhaul, mainly in how it's packaged! :) the weight errors on the clasp are completely fixed, and the cloak is now dyeable using the new two-channel dyeing system and a tool like glamourer or anamnesis! it's also available on multiple accessory items to make it more compatible with existing glamours/mods, and these items' metadata has been altered so that the cloak won't disappear on tops or gloves that hide accessories. finally, an option to hide the back pouch on bizu's "wisdom's blouse" (which this cloak was fitted to) has been added if the clipping bothers you.

[wereh0gz]

I think it's kinda weird how ppl say sonic *can't* be a teenager bc of the way he sounds or acts (especially in frontiers) bc. Yeah he can actually. Have you been around a lot of teenagers before. Have you seen how varied they are

You go to a high school and you will see teens taller than all of the teachers around them with deep voices to match, and you'll also see teens who look and sound like they could actually be 10, and everything in between those two points. Yeah the majority are somewhere in between, but it's not completely impossible for a teen to look or sound like an adult

Also a kid who has been through everything Sonic has will start to act mature for their age. A lot of real kids will start to act like adults for a plethora of reasons. In fact I myself was often told I was mature for my age even when I was little (possibly bc of undiagnosed neurodivergency or anxiety or something but we're not unpacking that rn). Some kids will act like adults, some won't. It depends on a lot of things

Point is just bc someone looks, sounds, or acts like an adult doesn't mean they are one

Idk Sonic character ages have always been kinda weird but just bc they don't have any stated "official" ages anymore doesn't mean Sonic is suddenly not a kid. It just means it's more open to interpretation and not that relevant to the franchise since the game timeline is already really ambiguous

[visenyaism]

visenya targaryen exiled to dragonstone for giving wise counsel (suicide baiting orys baratheon in the aegonfort slack channel for telling her baby brother she’s supposed to be protecting that it would look cool as fuck to sit on still-sharp swords like all the time for his job)

[imflyingfish]

Me watching the industrial and commercial demand go up while there is low residential demand knowing that this will cause a labour shortage.

[seilon]

at the end of last semester i had one of my screenplays read in a class and im still kind of reeling over it. not cause it wasn’t liked or anything but because one of the primary characters is low-support autistic (and has military ptsd that’s very strongly hinted at), so he’s a bit socially awkward and/or withdrawn, blunt, doesn’t tend to get emotion-based decisions, doesn’t see the need to explain his every action or thought or behavior out loud, etc. and despite him ending up opening up to the main character in a way I thought was vulnerable and explained some of his behavior, the bulk of the class, in the end, conclusively read him as deceptive and/or evil and actually somehow the antagonist.

and like. i THOUGHT about it when i was writing too– i assumed he wouldn’t be easy to read so i wrote and re-wrote that heart to heart to be as explanatory as possible (within the bounds of characterization + page limit). but i was still genuinely caught off guard by how prevalent an assumption it was that he was malicious (let alone a cold blooded, senseless murderer).

anyway main point here is that i was slapped in the face with the realization that neurotypical people are just That quick to brand people with conditions that impact social skills/behaviors who don’t mask to high hell and/or can’t just be written off as “quirky” as sketchy or dubious. and it probably also explains why my mother always says i look/sound suspicious all the time regardless of that making any sense in context or not.

[lauraagrace]

I promised in an earlier video that I would feature all the upcoming panels by publishers having manga licenses at Anime Expo, and today I'm making do on that promise!

I didn't feature a lot of "news," but cheers to getting some wins later this week! 🤞

[snoopdoggs]

what is your coloring process usually like?

usually a hot mess 😅 i typically start with a very simple base psd that has channel mixers for each color (i.e. red, yellow, green, blue) to help balance out the tones. and then usually for each individual project, i'll add more adjustment layers to it (i.e color balance or selective color if the footage is REALLY harsh) either as i go or by scene :) it kinda makes sense to my brain but idk if other people work like that

[beevean]

This scene was supremely uncomfortable to write.

~

A certain vampire hunter named Belmont had stepped foot into Wallachia. Hector had never heard of such a clan, but Lord Dracula hissed the name with hefty wariness, and every creature in the room knew that he was no trifling meat to mince: this Belmont could be a genuine danger to the castle. Isaac had noticed him, apparently, and eagerly reported the news to their Lord like a dog bringing a stick and expecting a treat in return.

In that moment, Hector knew. He had to prove himself.

It was not hard for him to enter back in Lord Dracula’s good graces. A few apologies that meant nothing, a couple of languid smiles that cracked his lips, and it was as if their last “conversation” had never happened. He kept his promise. Hector had always been special to his Lord, after all.

As his chewed, dried out remains laid there, cast away as he had fulfilled his purpose, the one thing that pushed him on his feet and dragged him through the vast hallways was the mirage of the forest stretched for miles.

He wanted to die so much.

No. One step further. He had to live for a little longer. Death would not take his soul so long as Lord Dracula held his leash; Hector would not allow it. After he had broken his leash, anything could happen to him. He would die soon, that much was certain; at his Lord’s hands, under the jaws of his loyal hound, or because eventually his body would give up on him. But as long as his grave could be a shallow hole in the forest, far from the enormous castle that used to be his home, he could take another step.

(I’m yours, he had sworn. He did not feel guilty for lying to his Lord, for leaving the kiss of Judah on his blood-caked hand. I can handle the Belmont myself, he had promised. He did not feel guilty for going behind Isaac’s back and taking away the one chance for him to prove himself. He was the lowest kind of sinner: it was what he was born for. He, too, could devour them to the bone. They would both be proud of him.)

« Don’t you look at me like that, » seethed Isaac. Hector started: when did he get back to his room? He didn’t notice himself applying healing oil on his neck. « I asked you a question. »

Hector wasn’t even looking at him, really. He just happened to be in the way of his gaze.

« I wasn’t listening, » he mumbled, hoping that Isaac would leave him alone and knowing he wouldn’t. And right as expected, everything fell into place: Isaac’s cutting glare, the tensing of his shoulders, the smell of a storm approaching. Hector had played the script one too many times.

« Of course you weren’t. Why would you? »

« Don’t start, Isaac. »

« Or what? Are you going to cry to Lord Dracula that I upset you? »

« I’m not being the child here. »

« Excuse me? » Isaac bristled. « Who gave you the right to speak to me this way? »

« According to your logic, Lord Dracula. »

At that, Isaac lunged at him; Hector flinched, body ready to receive a slap, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that Isaac had stopped in an awkward position, with his arm half-raised and teeth bared in a snarl.

Hector was less than grateful for Lord Dracula’s distant protection on his body. He wanted that slap, now. Not to make Isaac happy in his misery, but because it would break one of the many walls between them.

The man’s attention was caught by the fresh bites on Hector’s throat; he had a knack for spotting them, unless Hector buttoned his collar so tight that it clasped on his neck. Now, slick with ointment, they were in full display, the ghost of Lord Dracula hovering between the two of them.

Perhaps, the more he bit them, the more part of himself he infused in their bloodstream. Perhaps that was the reason Isaac passed a thumb on Hector’s scars, with an ugly mixture of scorn and fascination.

(What did that make of Hector?)

« I’m surprised you haven’t dropped dead yet, with how often our Lord feeds from you, » Isaac commented with the impression of aloofness.

« Why do you care? » One last chance.

« What does your blood have that mine doesn’t? »

Hector pursed his lips.

Interpreting his silence the Lord knew how, Isaac replied to it by jamming a long nail in a particularly sore bruise; Hector hissed, and his hand slapped Isaac’s away before he could think of doing so.

And the fuse went off.

« Stop looking at me like that! » Isaac’s face went as red as his hair. « Like I’m not worth a damn! Just because you’re the Lord’s favorite it doesn’t make me inferior to you! »

Hector had planned to leave quietly, without rousing suspicion. He was ready to leave Isaac behind without thinking twice about what he had planned to do; he couldn’t delve too deeply into the consequences. He could still walk past Isaac and ignore him, slam the door shut, leave him out.

The words rose from his throat before he could recognize them for what they were.

« Then perhaps you should do more to be worth something. »

« What…? »

« What are you doing, Isaac? Slacking behind and stubbornly beating your head over the wall instead of listening to me. Crying that Lord Dracula won’t praise you and taking it out on me. Pushing me aside except when you need a warm body. Why should I feel sorry for you, when you treat me like dirt under your heel? »

Hector’s own voice sounded distorted to his own ears, jagged and unpleasant. As unpleasant was the visceral pleasure that seized him at vomiting the thoughts he had buried deep for far too long, at the sight of Isaac’s eyes growing wide and him stepping backwards, away from him.

He should apologize. He would never apologize. Isaac deserved to hear that.

But his surprise lasted for far too little, and he counterattacked:

« You… You would be food for the zombies were it not for me! You threw me away the moment I was no longer useful to you! The only reason Lord Dracula is even sparing a glance towards you is because I felt sorry for you first! I was ecstatic when you came here to study the dark arts with me, I thought you’d be… » A crack where weakness should have been. « How could have I imagined that you would have ruined everything? You are standing on my shoulders and basking in all the glory, and have the gall to pity me! That’s all you care for, selfish bastard! »

Oh, if Isaac thought Hector would fold like he would have in the past, he had no idea of how utterly sick of it all he was.

« I don’t want the glory! I don’t want any of this! » How could ever be happy to be a toy, to be coated in his Lord’s sick touch and sicker lies and expected to be grateful for it?

« Our Lord adores you more than anyone here, more than His own son. What more could you possibly want? What else does the universe owe Saint Hector, for him to finally be happy? »

Why couldn’t he have asked sincerely? Why couldn’t Hector trust whom he thought was his closest companion? He did want, and he wanted too much for him to burden alone: he wanted more of that sorry excuse of an existence, he wanted to cleanse himself, he wanted to live, he wanted out!

He wanted a friend.

« I’m tired, Isaac, and you never noticed, because all you can think about is Lord Dracula. » He would not wipe any tear. Not in front of that man who would devour him at the first sign of fragility. « If I spoke, would you listen to me? Have I ever mattered to you? »

« What you want doesn’t matter. You don’t matter more than Lord Dracula. Don’t you even insinuate that. »

The lack of an answer burdened in Hector’s chest. He wished he could be furious at it.

« I would never. Your world begins and ends with Lord Dracula. »

« And that is how it should be! For being Lord Dracula’s favorite General, you are obnoxiously dense! » Isaac spread his arms like a proselyte. « We were born and made to be His tools to wield. I am honored to be used by Him! I do not need a reward, unlike you: it’s about loyalty! It is the bare minimum of gratitude I can show towards the only person who has ever cared about me. »

Hector took the jab in silence. He would not try to defend himself.

« Do you think he does? »

Isaac stammered. « More than you! »

Is that so.

« You are the worst kind of liar and hypocrite. » Hector dug his nails into his palms, and willed his arms to stop shaking, even though he wanted to hit Isaac so hard. « You say that you’re loyal, but are you really? Because if you were, you’d stop crying and accept how things are! You would accept that Lord Dracula doesn’t give a shit about you! »

« Shut your mouth! How dare you speak in contempt of our Lord?! »

« I don’t care! I am talking about you! » Hector yelled with more force than intended. « If you were a weapon like you claim, you would not be here with tears in your eyes because I’m trying to make you reason. Why do you refuse to see reality? »

« Oh, do you now? Are you speakings from the heavens now? » In the light of the candle, Isaac’s tired eyes flashed a sickly yellow; with his gritted teeth and bulging veins in his neck, he looked less and less human the more he spoke, unrecognizable.

« You make me puke, Hector. Look at you, with that disgusting veneer of superiority, even placing yourself above Lord Dracula… You dare talking about reality? Well, the reality is that you are nothing more than a selfish little boy with an inflated ego, spitting in the plate he’s been eating, expecting to be worshipped because you gift us with the air you breathe on us. » He jabbed a finger on his chest as if to bore it: his hand, too, was trembling. « Never forget that when we met, you wouldn’t even talk, you were that afraid of me. You are here, looking down on me like I am your damn scullery boy, because Lord Dracula tasked me with making something worthwhile out of you. And right now, I am so close to breaking your nose to teach you the lesson you deserve, and then we’ll see how perfect you are. »

Hector let Isaac talk without interrupting.

He should have been offended, he knew it. He should have sworn that he never thought Isaac was inferior to him, he did it all by himself. Somehow, Isaac’s words reached him like a vision through a foggy glass: he had a vague inkling of what they could be, but they didn’t leave an impact.

He, on the other hand, yearned to leave an impact, for once.

« But you won’t do it. Because you are terrified of Lord Dracula not loving you. »

Why wasn’t he furious? He wished he could shout like Isaac, have his heart hammering in his chest, be completely engulfed by rage like flames devour a house. The man in front of him no longer stirred his heart.

What grew louder inside him, instead, were the echoes of his demon friends, always within him as they had never abandoned him – no, he had allowed himself to become them, and just like back then, just like when his mother dared to hurt him… Isaac deserved a lesson.

« I used to be afraid of the world around me, yes. But you are, right now. You are so, so scared of ending up alone and unwanted that you do everything in your power to make sure no one wants you and loves you first! You will drag everyone down in your misery, because it’s easier than clawing your way out! Forget about me – why do you think Lord Dracula would ever love a thing like you? »

And Hector kept talking, and talking, his words a river in flood; he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, his voice spilled out of him like it was edging at the rim and it couldn’t wait to get out:

« You are a doll to Lord Dracula. You’re a cute toy to play with before putting it on its shelf, once he gets bored of you. You will never be anything more than a thing! And it’s all because of you. You chose to be a thing to be used and thrown away, because, because… because you truly believe you don’t deserve better, I suppose, and when I tried to convince you that it was not the case, you rejected me, because it scared you. You broke yourself into pieces for him, and it was for nothing, and now you’re angry, and you don’t want to admit it, so you thought you could break me with you. »

Isaac recoiled at every word like they were physical blows, and the more he acted like that, the more Hector felt the desire to twist the knife even further, because Isaac only roused desire in him when his eyes shone with bitter tears: he looked like the human he refused to be.

« You are nothing more than a pathetic, miserable thing, and you could have been so much more! I had always admired your passion, your wit, your knowledge! I thought myself so lucky to call you my friend! But there’s none of that in you anymore. You call yourself a weapon, but no, you’re a puppet. Who loves a puppet? Lord Dracula doesn’t need it. I don’t need it. »

And who cared if Hector no longer believed in that axiom, that the both of them had to earn their Lord’s love somehow? Hector had grown past that, but Isaac didn’t, still a child clinging onto the breeches of his father, and Hector felt vile and so satiated in plunging his fangs in Isaac’s heart to tear it to pieces, he would see how it felt, to be weak and powerless and despised! If he wanted to experience Lord Dracula’s love, then by all means, Hector would be all too happy to oblige!

« S-shut up… »

« Don’t you believe me? Why do you think that Lord Dracula refuses to give you all the love that you crave, but he’s forcing it on me? Whose fault is that, Isaac? What did I do, other than exist? »

« Exactly that, » Isaac snarled, and the sobs did not soften the spikes in his words. « Do me a favor, and go die in the next mission. Filth like you should have never been born in the first place! »

The air froze.

No one spoke. Isaac was panting, but Hector could not understand what he was thinking, he could not recognize his face. His head hurt as if Isaac struck a blow and his vision wobbled. It was not a moment too soon that Isaac spun on his heels and fled, and Hector let that stranger march out of his room.

The same mouth he had used to rip Isaac to shreds was covered in ashes. With numb fingers, he touched Lord Dracula’s marks on his throat, where he had ruined him. He decided it was time to go to bed. No map could have taken his mind off the flames dancing behind his eyes.

That night, Isaac left Hector alone, as he wanted.

He tossed and turned around in a freezing bed until the crows cawed and all of his focus had to go on the most important mission of his life.

There was no turning back.