#virtually impossible to tempt

[etruatcaelum]

“Hm.”

Riches, thrones, kingdoms, baubles… None of it interested her. None of it mattered. If he had spoken to Ozma, then Bill must know of her undying hatred for her creators: were it in his power to eliminate them, doubtlessly he would have offered. Salem tilted her head, impassive.

“I want for nothing,” she said at length, “that you can give me. Peace…” Her shoulders rose and fell in a rather sarcastic shrug. “Freedom. What are the mortal treasures of men to me? Everything returns to dust in its time.”

But.

The burning stench had grown thicker, ripened by a sweet fragrance none of this world had ever known; one that turned her stomach to remember. Flowering vines had framed her accursed window–

“Your dimension,” she said, unblinking. “I would like to see it.”

Bill almost laughed. "I get that a lot." He didn't have a nose, but he could smell the world that Salem made in her mindscape. It wasn't foul, though it was unexpected. She had a full sensory experience within her dreams. A real rarity, this one.

He floated a bit closer, keeping the salesman tone he used with Oz to a minimum. Though it still eked out occasionally. "I'm a simple guy. I just want a vessel to inhabit in your dimension. Mine doesn't have stars to watch, social interactions, or much to do." All truths. "Trouble is, I don't have any volunteers capable or willing to present me with one." Bill had his limits, certain rules he had to play by to interact with the third-dimension.

"You give me one, and I'll do something for you in return." That smile came back as the dark blot of an iris changed form, flashing through images of wealth, seats of power, land, rare artifacts. Things that most people dreamed of. "I got a lot of pull and resources to offer. We make a deal, trade our services, then get out of each other's hair. Pretty sweet, right?"

[luvvixu]

how to tame your boyfriend

content: bf!gojo, mentioned of sex and sexual stuffs, 16+, fluff, drabble, does not contain any smut, i think gojo's like this can't blame me

wanna know how to tame your annoying (and horny) boyfriend when your flight is delayed?

that's very easy. just buy him some lego and he would go on instant mute.

"i can't believe you really bought satoru—a full 27 years old ass man—a set of legos?" your friend from the other line, shoko, wheeze and at the same time confused for your action to tame your boyfriend.

sighing hardly while massaging your temple, you answered. "i had to, sho. he won't stop bothering me to have a quickie since our flight was delayed and he was bored."

your flight overseas was delayed for three hours because of some maintenance needed to be checked in the aircraft. now, satoru thought it is a good idea to spend those three hours having a passionate fornication.

of course you immediately dislike the idea even though you are tempted too. you value your morals, ethics, and dignity. unlike your boyfriend, he has no shame and would even proudly tell some random people that you are his by some marks solely created.

"could've played with his phone but seriously, why lego?" shoko was still laughing, now that you opened your camera and showed her your boyfriend who's literally sitting on the airport floor with bricks of lego on his hands.

satoru looked so focused and unbothered, which is an extremely good thing—like he couldn't stop whispers in your ears, whining about how needy he is right now and how badly he wanted you. but now he's occupied, it is the greatest relief for you.

"first, his phone is dead and was tempt to buy a new fucking phone just because he said charging using a power bank takes a lot of time. had to smack the shit outta him and force him to get out of the apple store."

yep, the idiot forgot to charge his phone before you left for the airport. now his phone is dead, the desire to buy a new one instead of waiting for his phone to be charged in a powerbank is crazy. although, money is not a problem for the head of the gojo clan—he got figures that cost more, more, more than your annual salary.

"second, lego made him focused and entertained on building it, not for having scandalous sex with me. i feel like he's being my child than being my boyfriend at this moment." you joked, lowering your voice so your big baby wouldn't hear you.

"you said it yourself that satoru is a full package." shoko rolled her eyes, but she's not wrong tho. satoru is everything, he could easily afford things and could even make some things impossible to possible.

"touché."

shoko let out a laugh. "anyway, gotta go now. got a client in an hour so bye my boo, mwa!" sending also a virtual flying kiss to your platonic friend, you both bid a farewell to with sweet smile on your faces.

as you ended the call, you turned your attention to your boyfriend who's now almost done on his lego that he's been occupying himself for like an hour now.

you made to take some photo of him and post it on your close friends in instagram because this scene of your boyfriend is literally a wholesome and definitely iconic. satoru glanced at you when he heard you giggle at some adorable shots of your boyfriend.

"what are you laughing at?" your boyfriend glanced up to you, confused and warily.

you shook your head, holding your laughter to not raise any suspicion. "nothing babe, just focus on fishing your lego instead of other things."

satoru showed you the figure "oh but i'm finished and we still have like an hour before our flight…" he paused. your mouth hangs wide, questioning about how the hell he builds almost five hundred tiny pieces in just an hour?! truly your boyfriend was really something but this is wild.

"how did you—"

"can we have a quickie now?" satoru smiles sheepishly.

your face turns more sour at his shameless request. although you understand that satoru is a man in need, but his neediness sometimes is really out of place and it took a lot of effort just to stop him from doing so.

"no, satoru. instead, we're going to have a quickie stop at the lego shop to buy you some more entertainment."

your boyfriend pouted at your answer like a hurdled puppy. "but i'm enjoying it more when i'm inside you."

that completely took you off guard.

"... tempting but no."

©luvvixu2023

[the-s1lly-corner]

Flufftober prompt 24: Game night (Ben Drowned)

list here god i missed listening to nightcore, playing some songs while i write this ueueueu take me back to middle school plsplsplspls i want to go back to being whimsical and making edgy ocs plot: you and ben play some games together and try to have fun! notes: platonic post, heavy on the hcs for the admin, ben is physically inside the console for most of the fic, reader is gn, you guys are playing minecraft because the admin doesnt have much gaming experience LMAO word count: 752 cws: none

"Did you raid my house?" You asked out loud as you looked through the chests in your house. They were all empty, picked through clean. Not a single item was left. You'd be less annoyed if some dirt or cobblestone were left behind, but Ben was thorough. A static cackle pulls itself from your computer speakers.

You don't respond. This was one of the more tame things he's done in the world, at least it didn't destroy anything. You were wise to start a new world instead of opening one of your older ones, you were sure if you had your work would be left in ruins. You were tempted to join a server with him to play games...

What all would he have been capable of there?

In a single player world he's already proven to be able to build anything he wanted- and destroy anything. Large craters and random block placements from him trying to spawn and contain something, or to try to bug you as you tried to run away.

You've sworn off playing alone with him when it's dark due to him playing a well placed noise while you were focused on exploring a cave. Something Ben still holds over your head, and pouts over when you refuse to play with him in the middle of the night.

A finger taps on the keyboard as you think over your options, you could go mine for the materials again if Ben doesn't give them back. Which he probably won't, he may have full access to the creative menu- something you had tried to prevent so the both of you could work together in survival, but trying to prevent a ghost hacking your game was virtually impossible.

You couldn't kick him, either, the game didn't register him as a second player. He was simply there.

Leaning back in your chair you look up at the ceiling.

"You make playing games with you difficult, man... you know that, right?" You glance at the screen as it flickers. The graphics warp and glitch, before flickering into a solid color as a pair of hands reach forward. They feel blindly in the air in front of you, before coming down to the edge of the desk and settling, soon a head peers out.

Ben doesn't pull himself entirely out of your computer, instead remaining in the current position he was in. One that did not look at all comfortable.

Static and crackling filled the air as he remained, his eyes narrowed.

Not angry, more so annoyed.

"It's not my fault you're boring, it's a sandbox game- you can do anything and you just follow building tutorials and mine," He frowns, sticking out his tongue at you.

"It's a sandbox game meaning I'm allowed to do whatever I want," You shoot back. He hisses in response.

"We can try to find something that's more your taste, there's got to be something..." You tap your foot on the ground. You'd have to wait until he retreats back into the computer or exits it. Assuming he would let you run it properly if he returns into it.

"Minecraft's nice, maybe you could put in some mods? Like the ones the people you watch have,"

You ponder for a moment.

"Like the horror ones?"

"Yeah like the horror ones, those ones!" He grins, fingers curling tighter around your desk.

You purse your lips, and stare at him. "Only if you play survival with me, no cheating. It's not fun if I'm the only one getting chased."

"For you, but I think it's funny."

You glare at him, and reach for your mouse. "Whatever... can you move out of the way so I can look for a couple to install?"

He nods, before backing into the screen. Suddenly, he pauses and looks at you intensely, red pupils staring right into your own eyes.

"Don't add too many dweller mods, I can't stand most of those." He hisses.

You nod, knowing full well that he would take control of the computer if he saw you installing a mod he didn't like the looks of... You make a vague mental note to get a better protections on your computer, Ben clicks on just about anything that catches his eye.

He finally fully returns to the screen, leaving you in silence in a now empty world. The sound of your player picking up multiple stacks of items at the same time makes you jolt.

Ben had given you back your things.

[thehappyspaceman]

On RFK Jr.'s BS (and its ties to a known hate group).

I don't usually write posts about stuff like this, but I gotta get this out of my system.

So I'm sure all of y'all by now have seen what Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has said about people with autism, as part of his anti-vax rhetoric of using "environmental factors" (vaccines) as a cause of autism. And in this, he talks about how kids' lives are ruined by autism with the following (CW: Ableism):

Now, there are many, many things wrong with this. The biggest part is that he's calling for autistic people to be institutionalized, which is... a choice. There's also the fact that he listed "paying taxes" and "holding a job" in front of the other elements of personal fulfillment, basically stating that contributing to the state is a higher priority than being able to fulfill one's own personal needs. Then there's the idea that people with autism will never do any of these things, which is... blatantly wrong, and it is incredibly, and understandably, tempting to focus on the fact that yes, there are plenty of autistic people who can hold a job, play baseball, write a poem, go out on a date, yadda yadda. We all know that. Literally two seconds of googling will debunk this. And ultimately there's little point in trying to argue with these people about these facts when they can just blatantly lie and get away with it.

But let's go back to that first one I listed, because the overall biggest issue is simply the fact that he wants autistic people in general to be institutionalized and states that they are lesser people.

This is not out of nowhere. In fact, I immediately recognized this as the language of Autism Speaks.

For those who somehow don't know, Autism Speaks is an "autism awareness" organization that notably has no people with autism on its board, has vast money mismanagement funneling company funds directly into the people at the top, and has been criticized by a huge number of people with autism. Not undeserved, either, as they've spent years and years convincing parents that having a kid with autism, of any level of functionality, is the literal worst thing in the world and will tear apart your family, break up your marriage, make your family a laughingstock, and put you thousands of dollars in debt. And by the way, this is not an exaggeration. They had a commercial that literally said as much (again, CW for ableism):

Here's the (partial) transcript for those who understandably don't want to give it views:

I am autism. I’m visible in your children, but if I can help it, I am invisible to you until it’s too late. I know where you live. And guess what? I live there too. I hover around all of you. I know no color barrier, no religion, no morality, no currency. I speak your language fluently. And with every voice I take away, I acquire yet another language. I work very quickly. I work faster than pediatric aids, cancer, and diabetes combined, and if you’re happily married, I will make sure that your marriage fails. Your money will fall into my hands, and I will bankrupt you for my own self-gain. I don’t sleep, so I make sure you don’t either. I will make it virtually impossible for your family to easily attend a temple, birthday party, or public park without a struggle, without embarrassment, without pain. You have no cure for me. Your scientists don’t have the resources, and I relish their desperation. Your neighbors are happier to pretend that I don’t exist—of course, until it’s their child. I am autism. I have no interest in right or wrong. I derive great pleasure out of your loneliness. I will fight to take away your hope. I will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams. I will make sure that every day you wake up you will cry, wondering who will take care of my child after I die? And the truth is, I am still winning, and you are scared. And you should be.

Again, there is a lot to unpack with this. First of all, it places the emphasis of the problems on the parents ("I will make sure that your marriage fails. Your money will fall into my hands") rather than the autistic kids, because the kids are viewed as less human and their problems are lesser. This continues into the line about embarrassing the parents when going out to church, birthday parties, and parks. The kids are only taken into consideration after it says "You have no cure for me… I will fight to take away your hope," and even then, it says, "I will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams." Still placing emphasis on the parent rather than on the child--what about their dreams? Not taken into consideration because they are not human. And there's also the fact that it places heavy emphasis on the lack of a cure for autism, rather than on fixing society and giving accessibility accommodations for those with autism to make their lives easier.

The other video I'd like to bring up is this interview with one of the moms from Autism Speaks, who openly admits that she had considered killing herself and her autistic daughter (if you've gotten this far, you already know CW: ableism):

She's talking about it like one might talk about killing a pet that's sick. And in her own words, the only thing preventing her from doing so was her other non-autistic child. Because only that child is seen as human. Despicable.

And okay, yeah, most of you know that Autism Speaks is garbage. (I mean, I hope you know and I don't have to tell you, but if you didn't know before now, then I urge you to stop supporting them, and to tell anyone you know who does support them to also stop.) So why am I telling you this? Because this is literally the exact same rhetoric that RFK Jr. and every anti-vaxxer has. This belief that autism is a curse, a disease. To them, it's better to have your kid die of preventable diseases than risk even the possibility of them having autism. It's all right out of the Autism Speaks playbook.

It's no coincidence that earlier this year, we got that Zachary Levi movie, The Unbreakable Boy, that suggested that the thing to help people with autism is to chuck them into a mental asylum without ever visiting them and that will make them get better. That was based on a real blog from the father of an autistic child and was funded by Autism Speaks.

I don't like throwing around the term "eugenics," because it's one of those terms that gets overused to death on the Internet, and its overuse lessens the impact of the term. But... this is, quite literally, the language of eugenics. And it's becoming important to spot stuff like this, so I wanted to throw this out there.

Yes, plenty of autistic people will hold a job, play baseball, write a poem, go out on a date, pay taxes. But those who can't do those things are also important, and their lives shouldn't have to be justified based on how much they contribute to society and how exploitable their deviation from the norm is by elites.

Anyway, I'm done with this rant now. Screw Autism Speaks, screw RFK Jr., and screw anyone who ascribes to their rhetoric. Protect autistic people.

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 1

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148132144

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

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"Trapped in the abyss, I long for you in this delirium. There's so much to say, but I'm silent. Too much time has passed since I held you, and now I fear that my love will just break you. So, into the darkness I go to protect you. Yet, no matter where I roam or how far I fall, half of my heart is always with you. "

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Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong people. Wrong everything.

Wrong wrong wrong.

I never should have volunteered to go on this trip!

Over and over, that mantra loops in my mind, cranking up the pressure of my rising anger so tight that my teeth grind together painfully. Sulking in a petulant silence, I wrap the worn hotel quilt tighter around my shoulders to keep out the chill. The furnace is blasting, but it's not enough to warm me up after a thorough dousing in freezing rain. 

I'm on high alert despite my misery. My gaze never strays from the man across from me on the narrow couch. Wariness and suspicion keep my back and shoulders tense even as I shiver in my sodden and frozen clothes. My eyes follow his long fingers as they absentmindedly manipulate the phone screen held between a pair of large hands.

Sharing the raggedy couch with me is none other than Sylus, though his demeanor is a far cry from mine. Despite the glowing and hissing Linkage wrapped like a manacle around his wrist, he sits with his legs crossed and his body relaxed. His blood red eyes take in a virtual Auction on the TV while his free hand makes sales and purchases on his phone.

A gun sits beside him on the armrest, but it doesn't concern me. This man needs no physical weapon to be terrifying. It is his Evol that's the true threat. That, and his ruthless and calculating nature. It's not a struggle to remember just how cruel and merciless he can be, even as he looks perfectly divine and statuesque while sitting still.

Yet, it's not his past or his reputation that has me wringing my hands and forcing myself to breathe deeply in order to stay calm.

It's an internal moral battle that has me on edge - one that's been tormenting me for months.

It's the struggle between knowing I am less than three feet away from the most dangerous man I've ever met and also admitting that I find him impossibly disturbingly attractive. Not just his looks. One doesn't need to have good vision to appreciate this man's allure. It's the conundrum that makes up all that he is.

A dangerous man who has taken lives many times before. A man that forced me to point a gun to his chest and shoot. A man whose mere name is enough to make monsters fall in line. Yet also, a man that's saved my life. A man who smiles at me and teases me. A man I've danced with on more than one pleasant occasion. 

A bottomless, tempting, mystery.

Outside, a storm howls and thunders just like my thoughts. Periodic flashes break through the murky grey skies, each noise grinding on my nerves. I've had a bad day already; worse than bad. But, I dare not wonder how it could possibly get worse. That's what got me in trouble at the train station in the first place when I stepped out into a blizzard without any kind of weather gear to learn that the staff had misplaced my bags and luggage.

I'd wondered, then, how things could get worse.

Precisely one hour after, fate dropped this confounding man into my path. Then, precisely ten minutes after that, our Evols had locked us together.

With a crack of lightning, my patience snaps.

"Oi...Sylus..."

He doesn't look at me as he answers. "What is it?"

His voice is soft, like velvet; he sounds bored, though I'd never been able to read any of his thoughts or predict any of his actions.

I hate how calm he is.

I hate that despite running beneath the rain to make it to the hotel, he seems to be a lot more dry than me. His hair isn't dripping wet like mine, though his grey designer sweatshirt does cling to his muscular chest more than I'm comfortable observing.

I clear my throat.

"You've spent the last two hours calmly bidding on who knows what while we're trapped here. You've bought enough weapons to stock an armory. Just how the hell are you so relaxed?"

Still tapping away on his phone, Sylus maintains a calm and neutral expression. "It's not like there's anything I can do to remove this at the moment," he wiggles his Linked arm, tugging on my own manacle in the process.

I grind my teeth to the point of pain, forcing down my irritation as water drips from my hair onto the quilt. "Fine. Time for you to answer some questions, then."

"Ask away," he hums in that composed and arrogant tone that always riles me up. He sounds about as interested in this conversation as a tired Hunter recruit at orientation. And no wonder; despite the murky weather, it is only 2:00 PM. For Sylus, it's the middle of the night. He's likely exhausted, but I'm not feeling particularly empathetic at the moment.

"First question. I travel to the Arctic, 3688 kilometers away from the N109 Zone. I lose my luggage and get caught in a ferocious rainstorm on my way to the hotel. I then bump into you. Why?"

He finally glances at me, and my heart leaps into my throat when the emptiness in his crimson orbs twinkles with a hint of amusement. The corner of his full lips turns up just enough to transform his expression from annoyed to mildly entertained. On Sylus's face, this looks like a kind of hunger; like a hawk catching sight of a mouse.

"I'm also curious," he drawls, making me squirm in my seat. "I would have thought that the Hunter's Association would take better care of their employees."

I glare at his flippant reply, and he rests the side of his head gracefully on his hand, leaning against the nearby armrest.

"I don't often take vacations, and yet here I saw a familiar face. A lost little dove that needed my protection, if you will."

I huff, wrinkling my nose. "I already told you. I'm the farthest thing from a small animal that needs looking after, especially by a predator like you."

The amusement lingers in his gaze, and I press on.

"Second question. I'm here for a symposium with the Arctic Hunters in this hotel. What about you? Are you here to turn yourself in?"

"You didn't book the entire hotel. I have the money, and they had a vacant room. Why can't I stay here?"

His calm and steady logic sours my mood even farther. Seething now, I raise my Linked arm.

"Third question. Why does this blasted tether's duration increase every single time?" My anxiety eats away at my bravado, and my voice wavers. "What if it doesn't go away when the event starts later tonight?"

Sylus doesn't seem bothered by that prospect. He shrugs, his eyes fading back to those of a bored bystander. "We can go together. Probably."

I can't help it. I snort at his proposal. "Oh yeah, I should definitely introduce my Hunter friends to the renowned leader of Onychinus."

"All you can do is pray for divine intervention, then. Remember piety is key," he advises, his voice overflowing with sarcasm.

I give him a withering glare. "That's rich, coming from you."

Feeling defeated, I stare at the Evol Linkage that's impossible to cut. "This thing didn't bind us together for no reason. There has to be a way to break it."

Sylus tilts his head, frowning. "How? You were asleep the last two times it untethered itself. You even pinned down my arm. It was very inconvenient."

Heat rushes up into my cheeks at the memory. I try not to think about how close I've gotten to this man over the last half a year. To say he makes me uncomfortable is an understatement, mostly because it is not the kind of discomfort one feels when one is close to an enemy. Instead, it's the kind of feeling that makes it impossible to meet his gaze directly for too long. The kind of frustration that has my eyes lingering over his long-legged muscular form far too often.

I hate being close to him. Hate the way his hair, even when mussed, falls perfectly over the side of his face. Hate the sculpted line of his jaw and the attractive ridges and dips of his neck and his shoulders. My fingers squeeze into my palms, remembering how it felt to wrap measuring tape around him during our escapade in the boutique a few weeks back.

"You've been staring at me quietly for some time. Isn't there a fourth question coming?" He leans back against the pillows, and I have to wonder for the hundredth time whether this arrogant and sly man can actually read my mind.

"You have a point, Sylus," I concede. "What if we recreate the circumstances of when the Linkage disconnected itself? We should be able to figure out the trigger, right?"

Sylus glances at his phone, dismissing me. "That sounds more like superstition than science. Do you expect me to lull you to sleep?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

He lets out a short breath, rubbing a furrow between the wings of his graceful eyebrows. Pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose, he waves his hand in the air. Black mist rises up and swishes around the room, shutting all the blackout curtains and leaving us in near darkness. The only light remaining is a small desk lamp. He glances at me, curled up in my quilt as far from him as possible. His eyes glitter as he motions for me to come close.

"Alright, then, sweetie. Time for bed."

There's a sudden intimacy in his voice. It cuts me to the quick, stealing my breath and numbing my mind. I can hardly formulate an immediate response.

"I'll get water on you," I grumble, glad for the darkness; glad he can't see how red my face must be. That's another thing I hate. His pet names for me. At least, I try to hate them. Lately, hearing them makes my heart beat just a little faster.

"I'm not perfectly dry myself," he says, running a large hand down his chest.

"Still..."

"Then you should change. Unless you want to catch a cold."

"My luggage was lost, remember?" I wrap the quilt tighter around myself. "Besides, there's no way I can change while I'm chained to you."

I inwardly curse as I shiver again. This time, Sylus notices. His smile grows, and he gestures for me to approach again.

"Come on, kitten. Last time I checked, I'm not going to melt if I get some water on me." His voice deepens as he adds. "I'll even warm you up."

I squirm in my seat again, now entirely against moving anywhere near him. Something still hangs in the air between us, the same charged atmosphere that I experienced while taking his measurements and asking for his help picking out a dress at the boutique.

Seeing my reluctance, he rubs his fingers on his lips thoughtfully. "Alright, then. Suit yourself. But I somehow doubt you can fall asleep when you're shivering like a rabbit in a snare."

My eyes narrow. "Stop comparing me to small animals. It's rather insulting, considering that I fight just as well as you do."

It's a lie, of course. Sylus's power is incomparable, but I can hold my own at his side for the most part.

I try to cross my arms angrily, but the Linkage stops me. Though I yank hard on the chain, Sylus might as well be a boulder. His wrist doesn't move an inch.

"Just calling it as I see it," he continues to tease, his gaze unyielding and unwavering. "The way you look now," his eyes scan me up and down, "reminds me of a grumpy, hungry, and very tired kitten."

My eyes can't help but follow his hand as he continues to stroke his full lips. Hypnotized, I hardly hear it when he asks me a question in turn.

"You are hungry, aren't you? We've been here several hours, and I doubt someone as frugal as you would have splurged to buy something on the train."

My stomach chooses that moment to let out a rather loud groan of protest. Mortified, I sink into my quilt and look away from him. Sylus chuckles softly.

"I can order room service, at least."

"No!" I rush to stop him when he reaches for his phone. As I lunge for his hand, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap. It's awkward. It's embarrassing. He's as large as a full grown grizzly bear, and he makes me feel completely helpless and tiny when I'm close to him. It's a thrilling kind of feeling, and one that I also really truly want to despise...

...but can't.

I squirm to get away from him, but he holds fast. In moments, I'm settled in his embrace, left with no options for escape.

"Shall I sing you a lullaby?" he asks sarcastically.

"Please don't. Being draped over you like this is bad enough."

We sit in silence for a time, my heart beating faster and faster as his body heat begins to seep into me. He's like a furnace, and soon I start to overheat. His chest undulates with deep steady breaths. His toned abs burn into my back; his huge arm wraps around me, shackling me in place just like the Linkage on my wrist. I can smell his aftershave, and it does terrible things to my rational mind.

"Sylus, I can't do this. I'm uncomfortable. The couch is too small. Let's try something else."

"As if," he sighs then yawns.

With his hand laying casually on my stomach, I can't relax at all. In an attempt to steer myself back in a morally acceptable direction, I run one of my fingers across the back of his hand. His palm is like two of mine. His skin is a mixture of smooth expanse and rough spots at points where it would normally rest against a weapon in combat. His knuckles are rough, too. Realizing that I'm taking liberties, I scramble to move my hands away and mutter an apology.

"Did you find something interesting on my hands?"

"Just remembering how much blood is on them," I say spitefully.

Instantly, I regret my sharp tongue. I squeeze his thumb apologetically and nearly jump out of my skin when his free hand strokes the ends of my hair.

"Then, I suppose it's a good thing you're not squeamish." His voice is softer now, but I don't trust myself to look up at him.

"This really isn't going to work," I tell him again. "Please, Sylus. Let's' try something else."

"I give you an inch...and you take..." his voice drifts off.

Silence, then.

"Sylus?" I whisper in the darkness.

No way. He did not just fall asleep while in the middle of a sentence. The tension drains out of me all at once, and I rest my head against his chest so I can see his face. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, his face relaxed in repose. He's resting the side of his face on the hand that was just stroking my hair, long black lashes fanning out on his regal cheekbones.

He's devastatingly handsome, like an artist sculpted his features from the finest alabaster. 

My chest tightens. All my frustrations aside, to think that a man like Sylus could fall dead asleep in a strange room with a strange woman tethered to him is unthinkable. Either his confidence exceeds my expectations or...

He trusts me.

I let that sink in for a minute, frustrated when the knowledge leaves me even more confused.

In the last six months, we've been through quite a few ordeals and crazy situations together. He's become a rather constant presence in my life, enough for me to worry when I didn't hear from him for several days. Enough, too, for me to dream about tending to his wounds.

But, even after spending all that time with him, I'm still processing all the things he makes me feel.

He scares the hell out of me. But, I feel absolutely safe with him. I can rely on him in a pinch. If I ask him to, he will clear obstacles out of my path. But, too often, he ends up being an obstacle and a source of strife himself.

I stroke the back of his hand with my fingers, making circles as I mumble to myself. "Every time we meet, something bad happens. Usually for me. You must be the harbinger of trouble."

"Hmm?" he stirs, opening his breathtaking red eyes to give me a disapproving look. His brow furrows, sensual lips curving down in mild irritation. "Stop chattering and go to sleep," he rumbles down at me. "This was your idea, after all."

We lapse into silence again, but nothing changes. Now that my head rests against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It's slow and steady, but it sounds different than any heartbeat I've heard before. It's almost like there's an echo behind every beat.

His necklace catches my eye, and I can't help but bring my hand up to fiddle with it. I toy with the chain for a moment then slide my finger upwards to the neckline of Sylus's sweatshirt. It's just a normal piece of clothing with a cut that isn't any lower than an average shirt of its type. But, the way it fits on Sylus is borderline criminal. The casual cut leaves his neck and collarbone exposed.

Entranced, I tap the pad of my finger against the base of his throat. His neck is muscular, but also long and graceful. A steady pulse flutters against my fingertip, and I quickly lower my hand, shocked that I allowed myself such liberties. I can't help it, though. This man absolutely confounds me, and despite my best judgement I can't help but want to know everything about him.

I take a deep breath as quietly as I can.

"Sylus, I can't sleep."

"I can," he retorts calmly. "If you'll let me."

In the face of his indifference, my irritation grows. I want to retaliate, but while I'm thinking about a way to do so, one of his eyes opens to look at me.

"Today's patience is wearing thin," he frowns. "Though I don't dislike your explorations, it's better if you just calm down and go to sleep."

A large hand presses my head against his shoulder. My cheek brushes against his sweatshirt, releasing a cloud of scent. Manly. Clean. Sharp.

Calm down? As if!

My heart is thundering in my chest now, and I don't think I can stand being this close to him for another second. I renew my efforts to squirm out of his grasp, my actions greatly annoying my oversized human pillow. In a single powerful motion, Sylus gets to his feet and lifts me into his arms. Not like a princess, but like a sack of potatoes that he practically tosses over his shoulder.

"Put me down," I demand, but he doesn't bother to listen. Two or three steps with his long legs takes us to the bed. He throws me down onto it then leans over me, pressing my Linked wrist into the mattress. His leg settles between mine, and I stop breathing entirely. With my free hand, I push against his shoulder.

His other hand takes control of my wrist, and he guides it down onto the mattress next until I'm completely pinned beneath him. His grip doesn't hurt. He's somehow careful not to cause me pain, yet he is as unyielding as a dam against rushing water.

"You've been letting these hands run wild for a while now," he murmurs, his gaze unreadable. "Is it my turn for exploration?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, breathless.

"Should I do to you what you've been doing to me for the last hour?" His crooked smirk returns. When he tilts his head, some of his bangs fall forward, giving him a rough and tumble or "just out of bed" kind of appearance. Alarm bells go off in my head. I have to get away.

Now.

I'm a Hunter.

He's a king of the criminal underworld.

There could not be a worse match-up in all of history.

But, the thought of pushing him away now hurts. What I really want isn't escape. I'm no fool, even if I am terrible with love and with relationships. The closest I've come to intimacy in the last few years has been a battery powered quick fix lying in a dusty box under my bed. Even so; even without having a wholesome understanding of what it means to yearn for someone, I can no longer deny that I want this man more than I've ever wanted someone before.

It's unhealthy. It's ill advised.

"Please, Sylus," I breathe, and his eyes slip to my lips. His dark pupils dilate.

"What are you asking me, kitten?" he murmurs, letting go of my wrists to slide his hands up until our fingers wrap around one another. "The terms of a contract should be clearly stipulated."

"Let me go," I beg him.

He doesn't miss a beat, as though he already knew what I was going to say.

"That's not what your eyes are asking me," he counters.

"It's what I'm asking," I insist, my heart squeezing painfully.

Something yanks on the Linkage, then, and before I can react, the same force pulls Sylus towards me. I gasp as he presses into me. In a blink, he brings up an arm to rest on his elbow, keeping most of his weight off to avoid hurting me. He sighs, glancing at the Linkages. Somehow the chain between our wrists has disappeared. The manacles are interlocked, forcing Sylus and I into even greater proximity.

"What have you done now?" he groans. My body grows taught at the vibrations of his voice in my ear. So soft. Languid. Like a lazy afternoon in the sun.

"N-Nothing," I insist. "You threw yourself at me."

"Then how do you explain this?" he gestures with his head to the Linkages.

I honestly have no good answer. Right now, it's all I can do to stare at the corner of the ceiling so I don't meet his gaze. "I don't know what happened, but they're like two snakes trying to devour each other," I mumble.

Desperate, I try to move myself out and away from him. To my horror, the manacle around my wrist tightens even more. I yelp at the painful pressure.

Sylus's low chuckle ruffles the fine hairs at my ear. "You know, sweetie, the more a snake's prey tries to escape, the more tightly it gets strangled."

I shiver, closing my eyes. "That's within your control, then, isn't it? Please, you need to move first. Let me go."

He shifts marginally, his shoulders tensing. "Hm, looks like someone is about to walk in."

I finally look at his face. "What? Walk in where?"

"I'm saying we're about to have a guest."

"Stop trying to scare me. Do you enjoy being an as--"

Past the wall of the bedroom, I hear the sound of a scraping key card over the white noise of the TV. My heart leaps into my throat, body breaking out in cold sweat. Oh no! I'd forgotten that we have assigned room mates on this trip, too. It must be Lois, the young Hunter girl I'd met at headquarters a week ago. If she sees us like this --

I buck beneath Sylus's hold, now putting everything I have into getting him off of me. Fortunately, he decides to cooperate. I manage to push him off me and scramble to the edge of the bed. I look around wildly, my heart pounding. The hotel room has only one exit, which means we need to hide. I spot the closet a short distance away.

"Get in," I hiss violently, yanking on our Linkage and stuffing us both into the tiny space. I slam the door shut and struggle to breathe. At this point, I'm in serious deep water. Even if nobody knows that this is the the Sylus, I will have a witness that saw me bringing a man to my hotel room on a business trip. My reputation will be ruined, and I will likely face temporary suspension. Just imagining the spreading rumors makes me want to vomit.

If someone sees me like this, I won't be able to clear my name even with a redemption arc.

"Ellara!" a cheerful voice resounds from the living area. "Are you here, girl? I can't believe you missed the first part of the presentation!"

I stay silent, chanting prayers to whatever deity would listen in my mind.

"I heard you lost your luggage. Poor thing, but you can borrow some of my clothes if you want." Her footsteps and voice grow louder. "Tara's downstairs waiting, come on!"

My back cramps, and I look down. In my rush, I sat down in an awkward position on the ground. Something hard digs into my back and shoulder blade. Worse yet, Sylus is right on top of me. His size makes this space feel like a broom closet. Our noses are nearly touching, and his breath fans against my face. Some of his hair tickles my forehead.

For a split second, I lose myself in his red eyes.

Not a romantic red like a fading sunset.

Red like fresh blood.

And right now, those eyes are filled to the brim with displeasure.

Memories flash of my first few days with him, back when he tried to use those terrible eyes against me. Of the voice in my head begging me to devour him. The way he used his frightening black Evol to move and manipulate my body to his whims.

I struggle to inhale. Claustrophobia assails me.

Panicking, I push my hand against his chest.

"Sylus, move. I can't breathe."

"Ordering me around, are you?" He glances at my hands; his frown intensifies. "Why are your hands shaking?" He seems genuinely bothered by my fear, but I don't have the capacity to process that right now.

I yank on our Linked wrists for emphasis. "I can't move until you do," I tell him.

Still frowning, he accommodates my request. He shifts his body, wrapping his arms around my waist. I gasp when he lifts me up and sets me on top of him so his legs can stretch out and give me room to move. Somehow, I end up in his lap yet again.

"No, Sylus. This isn't--" his hand settles over my mouth. Huge and hot. He presses a finger to his own lips in turn.

"She's coming. Shh..."

Lois calls my name again, and this time she's in the doorway of the bedroom. My palms grow sweaty. There's no way she won't look inside the closet. My hands tremble where they grip Sylus's shirt. He glances down at them again, then at back at me. His fingers force me to look at him.

Being the sole focus of his gaze is an experience I can't put into words. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff faced with a huge red tidal wave. Any moment now, the wave will push me back, and who knows whether I'll fall to my death or find salvation?

Leaning forward, he whispers in my ear, "If you're anxious, just close your eyes."

His hand slips from my face, but his thumb grazes my lower lip in passing. His huge palm presses me forward to rest against his chest.

His heartbeat pulses against my ear, body heat enveloping me like a blanket.

Ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub, ba-dum lub-dub...

Steady.

Slow.

Just like it had been when he was sleeping.

My trembling slows, breathing evening out.

His free hand reaches out and presses against the door right as Lois approaches the closet.

"Ellara? Are you here?" I hear the rolling of luggage wheels. "Well, no matter. I'll just leave this here for her for when she gets back." She tugs on the closet door. Again and again. I squeeze my eyes shut; it feels like she'll never stop.

"Why isn't this opening? Is it stuck?"

She pulls harder, but she's no match for Sylus's strength. If she wants to open that door, she'll need to tear it off its hinges.

"Gotta call maintenance, I guess," she sighs. Like salvation, her phone rings. She picks it up, engaging whomever it was in conversation and padding back out of the bedroom.

I breathe out raggedly.

Beneath me, Sylus makes a sound of amusement.

"Your mental fortitude is terrible in situations like this," he observes.

"If we're seen--"

"So your reputation matters more to you than your life?" he asks. There's no judgement in his voice, just curiosity. "You were never this afraid when we were faced with a hail of bullets and assailants."

This is different. Completely different. But now is not the time to try to explain it.

Sylus smiles. "If we're discovered, I suppose we should just confess."

"To what, exactly?" I hiss defiantly.

His fingertips snake down the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. My eyes go wide when those same fingers sneak beneath the edge of my shirt and slip inside. In a blink, he's caressing my bare skin. I suck in a breath as my whole body breaks out in goosebumps.

"What are you...doing?"

Without answering, he keeps going. His fingers move up. Higher and higher, until his knuckles graze the underside of my bra. Splayed open, his fingers span almost my entire back.

Our eyes lock, devouring each other much like the Linkages around our wrists.

A single moment hangs between us in time.

And then his fingers slip beneath the barrier between us.

My breath hitches in my throat.

My skin pulses with anticipation.

My lips part, my mouth opening on a protest. His crimson eyes sear into me, daring me to speak, daring me to try to stop him. They aren't asking for permission; there's really no need. He already knows what my body wants, and he's prepared to ignore my lips trying to stop him.

Outside, Lois' voice fades away. Keys jingle. The front door to the hotel room slams shut. Silence fills the air, broken only by the humming of the furnace and my labored breaths.

I can't tear my eyes away from Sylus's lips. They're so close now. It would only take a single motion on my part, a single adjustment to my posture to taste them.

With a herculean effort, I keep myself still.

When our eyes meet next, his are hooded and burning. A volcano simmers beneath - boiling lava waiting to erupt.

"So what's it to be, kitten?" he teases. His fingers move a little higher, pressing up against my breast. "Should we continue?"

"Nn..." I could hardly recognize my own voice as a needy mewl rips itself from me. I slip forward, just that much closer. My resolve is breaking, bit by bit. Or maybe mile by mile. My body grows restless, sore, impoverished.

 "Your hands are cold as ice, but you feel quite warm here now." He rocks his hips against me, and I close my eyes against a pang of dizziness. Warm fluid floods my panties, my body betraying all my morals.

I whimper when the tips of his fingers nudge against my nipple. A need so deep, raw, and painful slams into my groin that I can't help but throw my head back. His huge hand supports me as I sigh in pleasure, keeping me from falling.

A breath against my chest and then cold air as my shirt is lifted up. Lost in wave upon wave of desire, I gasp when his lips press right between my breasts. He plants a hungry kiss there. Then another, his silvery hair tickling my skin. Hungry, but gentle. So very gentle.

He breathes me in then exhales, and the rolling of his hot wet breath has me gripping him tighter.

Then he stops. Leans back.

In a haze, I glance down to find him smirking, his sharp eyes narrowed and challenging. He tilts up his chin in that arrogant way of his, daring me to protest.

We have to stop. This is madness.

Really, Ellara? Making out with the Sylus in the middle of Hunter symposium in a damn closet?

I need to push him away. Push him away. Push him away.

I wince as the Linkage tightens painfully on my wrist. Bruising. Aching. Punishing me for going against the wishes of my heart.

"Sylus, we can't do this," I whisper. "I'm a Hunter, and you're..."

"I'm what?"

"You're the leader of Onychinus..."

"Is that all I am?" he asks, placing another kiss on my shoulder. "Does that title define me?" Another feathery kiss. "Are you just a Hunter? Or are you not Ellara as well?"

"Of c-course I am," I gasp. "B-But...we...this is..."

"Alright, then," he says, his expression still amused. He pulls back, and it feel like someone reached in and ripped out a part of me.

"If that's what you want."

It isn't, and he knows it well.

Anger floods me. How dare he play with me like this? How dare he act like he could stop now when we've already clearly crossed a line? When I need him this much? Furious, I grab the collar of his shirt. Why am I always the one being toyed with? Am I just another amusement to stave off boredom?

I want to shout at him.

I want to wipe the smirk off his beautiful face.

But, more than that, I deeply, desperately need to kiss him.

And so, that's exactly what I do.

I pull him towards me, molding my mouth to his.

He's shocked. His whole body tenses. But, I'm over it. Over all of this. No more stops. No more hesitation. I'm pretty sure I will spontaneously combust if I don't get a taste of him immediately. With a lustful moan, I run my tongue against his lips. He immediately grants me entry, and my mind goes blank as we vie for dominance.

His mouth is smooth and molten hot.

His saliva is slick and sweet.

He tastes like peppermint and heaven.

He tastes like home.

I'd spent so many cold and hollow nights imagining what a perfect kiss might be. Secretly, I thought nothing in reality could measure up.

What an idiot I was...

Without breaking away from me, his fingers move again. I can't hold back a ragged moan as he plays with my nipple and rocks me against him. Gentle, yet insistent. Rhythmic. Constant. His touch builds like a crescendo; my blood surges and sings, breasts seeming to swell as bliss shoots from my chest to my fingers and toes.

I try to move back, nearly overstimulated, but he holds me still. His mouth absorbs my wanton moans as he unhooks the back of my bra with his free hand. At last, we come up for air. I curve into him like an eager she-cat when he palms both of my breasts and presses his mouth to them. My hands bury into his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp.

Worried that I'm hurting him, I hesitate. He nips at my neck, making me squeal.

"I'm not afraid of your claws," he purrs against me. "Do what you want. I won't break."

A pressure grows and hardens against my core, assuring me that despite Sylus' outward composure, he's just as affected as I am. I cry out when he pinches me, nearly cumming at the sound of his deep voice humming a note of approval. He licks his way up my neck.

"All this just from my tongue and lips on you? Looks like my little kitten is pent up."

I let him have that victory. He's not wrong, after all.

I'm climbing to the pinnacle so fast that I'm dizzy, but I've plateaued. My hips begin moving on their own, my body seeking him, searching for pressure - any pressure - to ease the agony between my legs. He knows what I need, but he denies me, choosing to focus on just touches, kisses, caresses. His hands and mouth drive me to delirium until all I can do is hang onto his hair and his shoulders and beg.

"Sylus..." I rasp.

He smiles against my breasts.

"Sylus- ah!"

I almost want to cry when one of his hands glides down my thigh and stops just short of touching my center.

"...need you...need this..." I bump against his growing erection. 

"Are you sure?" he breathes, nipping at my ear. "You want me to do you right here?" 

"Nnn...yes...yes..."

I shudder when his finger passes over my apex, his touch dulled by layers of clothes. I try to lift myself up, but I'm clumsy, uncoordinated, weak with want. It's cramped in here, and there's no room for either of us to move much. Frantic, I buck my hips and whine. When I reach for the door, Sylus grips my hand and brings it to his lips.

"Patience, sweetie," he coos, kissing my knuckles. "I'll take care of you."

He settles his hands on my hips and lifts me up. The buckle of his pants clinks as he undoes it. Next, he reaches up and tears a hole in my leggings. I'm too far gone for any kind of outrage at my lost garment, especially when his pulsating cock brushes up against my bare skin. I'm so drenched that I slip and slide against him.

His hiss of pleasure thrills me.

I can feel every inch of him as he moves. He's huge, and for a moment I feel a flash of trepidation. Then it passes, and all I can think about is how badly I need him to ruin me right now.

"Sylus..."

His hands squeeze my ass, spreading me wide. "I know, kitten. Breathe."

With that, he slips into me. He's gentle. Slow. Careful. But, I'm still overwhelmed. My thoughts white out. All worries, hesitations, moral tugs of war. Everything dissipates into the breathtaking sensation of him filling me. There's some pain, but its a passing thing. Not worthy of note, not when he pulls me down into a kiss and fills me with his tongue as well. My nails tattoo my ecstasy into his shoulders, my insides squeezing him so tight as I climax that he has to break our kiss so he doesn't bite down on my tongue.

I wiggle on him, wanting him to move, needing to know what it feels like for him to scramble me up inside.

"Easy," he warns. "Are you alright?"

"No," I confess, drinking in the blood of his crimson gaze like a ravenous beast. But I can't find the right words to describe my need. "More," I plead. "Just...more..."

"Reckless as ever," he chuckles, but he's out of breath too.

I watch the Adam's apple move on his gorgeous neck as he swallows. I move my hips again, urging him to take me, break me, whatever he wants. His hands tighten their grip on my hips. I dearly hope he leaves bruises. I don't want to forget this moment for days. Weeks. Not ever. It's so perfect. He's so perfect.

With a snap, the Linkage around our wrists shatters.

Sylus doesn't give it a second glance. The moment we're free, he moves my body around.

"Relax," he breathes into my ear and kisses it. "Turn this way." Without pulling out of me, he shifts us around so my back faces him. I rest my hands against the opposite wall, whimpering when he spreads my legs open and positions me on my knees. He hulks over me, one big hand holding my waist while the other rests beside mine on the wall.

He starts to move, and I can no longer stop myself from making obscene sounds of bliss. Every thrust threatens to split me in half, the friction making me dig my nails into the wall. His cock hits me so deep inside that I swear I'll shatter into a million pieces. But, the pain is indescribably wonderful, and as my body adjusts to take in his size and girth, only pleasure remains.

"Ah...mmn...ah...Sylus...Sylus!"

"That's it," he huffs right into my ear, licking every nook and crevice. "Scream for me." His fingers slip from my waist to torment my clit. I shatter on the rocks, losing track of what's happening. He pounds into me until I feel him start to swell even more.

"Mmn...ah...yes!...please...please...inside me...give me all of you..."

His rumbling chuckle throws me over another edge as he explodes into me. He's breathing hard, his heart pounding against my back. His hips keep moving as white hot cum leaks down my thighs. He nuzzles into the crook between my neck and shoulder. Kissing my skin. Grazing his teeth on it.

We float in a haze, surrounded by our breaths and heartbeats. He doesn't pull out of me for some time, and I try to process what just happened. I'm joined with him in the most intimate way, and I've never felt anything more natural.

His sensual lips rain kisses on my back, his hand stroking my belly, my chest, my arm - helping me come down from the most incredible high of my life. 

"Sylus..." I whisper, my arms shaking. "I can't move."

"I have you," he soothes, pressing a kiss to my temple. I gasp when he pulls back. The sound of his belt clicking as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

"I'm going to move us now. Trust me, alright?"

I nod weakly.

The world tilts and spins. Vibrations of Evol pulsate through me. I remember this feeling, though the last time it flowed through my body it was like an aggressive snake. This time, it's warm and reassuring. Sylus's arms wrap around me. I smell that delicious aftershave again. Or maybe it's something else. Maybe this is just his smell.

Just as his kiss tastes of home, his scent smells of safety and security.

Wrapped up in his embrace, nothing can hurt me.

The closet disappears, and before I can make a single sound, Sylus is standing in the middle of the bedroom with me in his arms. He pulls the sheets and blanket off the bed and wraps them around me.

"Two more jumps," he smiles, and my heart flutters at the softness of his gaze. No longer like blood. More like a deep ruby wine. "I'm on the top floor."

Again, my surroundings spin and whirl like a hurricane. Colors blur together. It's disorienting, but I'm not afraid, trusting that the one holding me won't let me fall. When it all settles, we are no longer in my hotel room. Instead, we're standing in some kind of penthouse suite. I blink as I look around.

"Is this your room?"

"Did you want to stay downstairs?" He raises a brow at me.

I shake my head. "No. I guess I'm just wondering why we didn't come here sooner."

"And miss out on nearly getting caught?" he teases.

Again, I give him this one. Despite how terrifying it was when Lois nearly found us, the aftermath was...well...

I can't really be mad at him, and I'm too tired to try.

"Your hands are still like ice," he frowns. "Let's get warmed up." He pads to the bathroom as I poke his chest.

"You're not cold at all, though."

The master bath is a sight to behold. White marble with contrasting black and gold swirls. Frosted glass etched with patterns of rare flowers accents the rich colorations around it. The shower alone is larger than the walk-in closet in my apartment. Taken aback, I'm still marveling at the decor as Sylus sets me down on a nearby loveseat.

He starts when I wince and make a sound of pain. I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt. Immediately, he's kneeling in front of me, his hand cupping my face. Those deep ruby eyes take me in, searching for the source of my discomfort. My heart races to be the focus of those slanted sharp eyes.

"Was I too rough?" he asks.

My hand covers his. "I'm alright. It's just...been a while." I smile at him and stroke his hair. As he closes his eyes in pleasure at my touch, I'm completely at my wit's end. There's no logic or reason that can stop the tenderness running through me now. There's no reason I can think of to push this man away any longer.

This man.

Not the Sylus of Onychinus.

Not the king of N109.

Just a man.

An incredible, wonderful, and mysterious man.

"A hot bath will help me feel better," I tell him.

He glances at the tub, stopping my heart with his special half smile. "I think we'll both fit in this one."

I pull him down for a long slow and thorough kiss. "Then, what are we waiting for?"

.

[ghost-bxrd]

Keep going I want everything *holds up a note pad* give me angst

*slides glasses up higher*

Okay, you asked for it! Get ready for some really cracky ship content on the side of more Court Family au!

Bruce grows up learning high society and Court etiquette mostly from Alfred and some trustworthy Court members and quickly decides that some things need to change. (He may be morally flexible here but he still wants to change things for the better). He still puts up the Brucie mask in front of High Society, but now he does it with the goal to gather blackmail material from as many people as possible and indebt them to him for potential use down the line.

Bruce becomes Voice of the Court when he turns eighteen and immediately starts uprooting several of the more corrupt members of the Court, instating new people into the ranks that will benefit the city as a whole. He makes some enemies this way, naturally. And soon after the Cout’s Talon is tasked with Bruce’s safety at all times.

Bruce and Cobb do NOT get along. At all. Mostly because Bruce is determined to make Talon’s life even harder by trying to slip away from his sight every other second. It’s infuriating. Cobb considers literally sitting on the guy after only one week. (“Try bailing on me now, o’ honorable Voice”)

Bruce spends several months strategically implementing new laws and projects that will benefit the Court AND Gotham in the long run, making it a point to go to the most important meetings in person, even if they happen to be between criminals. (Cobb was so, SO tempted to let Black Mask shoot the idiot that day.)

Within two years human trafficking is close to nonexistent in Gotham City, lethal crime is down a good ten percent (which isn’t much in the grand scheme of things but for Gotham it’s almost biblical) and whispers of “Batman” are omnipresent. (Cobb considers asking if slapping his Voice would be considered treason but… it probably would. Even though Bruce really deserves it with such a stupid cover name. Owls HUNT bats… couldn’t he have chosen Owlman?)

(“What’s your name, anyway?” Bruce asks one day, flipping his tie into a neat Windsor knot that’s just passable enough to not be considered sloppy. “I am the Talon of the Court, my Voice.” Bruce hums, one elegant eyebrow raising in the stark reflection of the mirror, “No, your real name.” “It’s whatever you wish it to be, my Voice.” “You know what I mean, Talon. If you do not wish to answer, then I will not make you. But do not play me for a fool.” “… Cobb. William Cobb.” Bruce blinks, the left corner of his mouth tugging upwards, “Will… I see.”)

The first time a traitor nearly succeeds in killing Bruce is when he once again slips away from the Talon’s sight, and while Bruce is still well trained he’s no match against five people with guns, sedatives, and a mission. Cobb finds them right as they’re about to shoot Bruce in the head and goes absolutely feral. (He hates Bruce, he hates Bruce, he hates Bruce, he hates-)

Bruce wakes up back at the manor with a pissed off Talon standing in the corner of the room, keeping watch and refusing to talk to him anymore beyond what he’s ordered to. Sneaking away from the Talon after this becomes virtually impossible for Bruce.

Cobb keeps giving Bruce the cold shoulder for months to the point where Bruce becomes genuinely concerned, but the Court scientists assure him that their Talon is running at a 100% capacity. (That’s not what I’m asking, Bruce wants to scream. I want to know if he’s okay.)

(Cobb wasn’t worried, he wasn’t. He watched countless humans die in so much worse ways already. Inflicted worse himself. It’s just because he almost failed his mission and allowed the Voice to be killed that he’s so unnerved now. That must be it. That’s all it is. That’s all.)

Dick’s parents fall and Bruce is up and out of his seat the next second, pushing through the masses until he can clutch at the child and cover his eyes, shielding him from the view of his parents’ dead bodies. Social Services never get to put their hands on Dick Grayson.

The Court is ecstatic. Cobb is ecstatic. From tragedy, opportunity blooms like a rose with poisonous thorns, and the Talon stands ready to take on his apprentice as the Court broaches the subject with Bruce.

But Bruce (idiotic, stupid, bleeding-heart Bruce) refuses point blank. (“He’s a child,” Bruce says. Like that means anything. They were all children, once. He’ll grow out of it quickly enough. And the boy will make an excellent Talon, perhaps even surpass Cobb himself, with time and training. Maybe more capable at keeping the Voice safe than him, too. But then Bruce says, “He’s my child. My ward. And any of you who think to go against me will answer to the Talon and myself.” And, oh, damn you, Bruce. Damn you. But what else is Cobb to do but lift his head and stare down the Voice’s subject in silent challenge, daring them to object? Bruce is his Voice. Talon will never not side with the Court’s voice. (He pointedly does not think of the time he slit another Voice’s throat. He does not.))

Dick is anger and fury and sunshine and it drives Cobb crazy. The raw potential that is lost with Bruce’s refusal to allow him to train the boy… he cannot stand it. There will be another Talon before long (Cobb is not bitter about it, he is not) and with Dick the protection of the Voice would have at least stayed within the line of Cobb’s blood, but now… now Cobb can’t be sure the new Talon will take their task as seriously as the boy would have.

Dick is the one to approach Cobb for training before he ever goes to Bruce

Bruce nearly has a heart attack the first time he finds Dick training with the Talon, ripping the boy away and screaming at Cobb for nearly an hour about “orders” and “NOT a Talon” and many other things Dick doesn’t really get

Bruce asks Talon to bring him Zucco’s head and Cobb will forever deny the vindictive pleasure he felt when watching the smarmy man squirm and beg for his life (he didn’t get fond of Dick. Cobb doesn’t do fond. He hates him almost as much as he hates Bruce, thank you and good day.)

… okay I just realized none of this really qualifies as angst but— somehow this post got away from me. I’m sorry 😭😭😭 feel free to ask for more specific angst content tho? 🙏

[markrosewater]

"It varies mechanic to mechanic, but they don’t score any lower as a group against other mechanics. Some, like Monarch, are quite popular."

People are criticizing the helper card mechanics because they are very complex, require specific varied tracking and they are virtually impossible to play with unless you constantly refer to helper card (compared to most cards that you can understand by simply reading its oracle text or reminder text).

The Monarch doesn't have any of those issues. It's an elegant and masterfully designed mechanic. The Monarch is very simple and straightforward, so much so that the oracle text from The Monarch token could fit as reminder text on several monarch cards. That can't be said about Day/Night, The Initiative, Venture in the Dungeon, Rad counters or Tempted by the Ring. I've probably looked at the double sided Tempted by the Ring helper token over 100 times and I can't confidently tell someone exactly how the mechanic works if I don't have the helper token to read from. It's an extremely complex and multifaceted mechanic. I would say more complicated and wordy than 98% of other Magic mechanics.

Can you please make more "outside of the game" helper card style mechanics that are easy to comprehend and intuitive?

The Monarch and Ascend are examples of mechanics like this. More of that please! The more complex mechanics that create outside of the game elements are intimidating (i.e. Venture into the Dungeon, Tempted by the Ring, The Initiative, Day/Night) and in my experience, they slow down the game because players can't understand them easily.

Lastly, I'm offering this feedback as a major Magic enthusiast and long time veteran player who also plays with experienced players regularly. I can't even begin to imagine how daunting these types of mechanics must feel for novice players!

I talk a lot about how different players enjoy different aspects of the game. What I talk far less about is different players struggle with different aspects. Some can’t handle excessive processing; some have issues with sequencing; some don’t understand the nuances of the rules; some aren’t good with memory.

My best guess with you is you internalize (aka work from memory) card abilities most of the time, so cards which exceed your ability to memorize cause you issues.

Because players see the game through the lens of their own experience, the feedback they tend to give is “stop doing thing X” because thing X is the element that they personally struggle with.

The challenge is there are players that don’t struggle with that element of the game and thus enjoy thing X. For example, my biggest note on this blog about dungeons isn’t they’re too hard to process, but there aren’t enough of them.

So, it’s a balance. We need to understand the ways in which people struggle and help accordingly where we can. I agree that we need to be cautious how complex and wordy we are on elements off the card. And we have to be careful how often we use that tool.

Now there is a threshold where enough players struggle, that we have to question if a particular aspect is worth it. I don’t think we’re there yet with external game pieces, but I do loudly hear the note that we have to be better with as-fan of the helper cards showing up. The note that we need to auto-include more helper cards in the prerelease kits is also a strong one.

So yes, I’m aware that outside game pieces come at a real cost for a certain type of player, and it is something we have to keep in mind when designing them. I personally think we could have simplified Tempted by the Ring a bit, for example, but I do think it was right to include in the product.

Thanks for your feedback.

[hhimring]

I kept the secret but what is becoming of us?

The ongoing @russingon-week encouraged me to write a little bit of a stalled WIP about Maedhros in East Beleriand, a scene in which Maedhros dreams about Fingon.

Mods, I'm not sure whether you would regard this piece as sufficiently Russingon-centric for the event. (The series this is part of is definitely Maedhros/Fingon.) If not, thank you anyway for running the week and giving me the impetus to try and write the scene!

Maedhros, in the early days of Himring, has just been confronted with his inability to confess to the kinslaying at Alqualonde. His instinctive reaction was denial, especially because to confess would implicate Fingon and others and not only himself. He also feels he lost control of himself, during this scene. While he is reflecting on this, he falls asleep and dreams of Fingon.

They had not agreed to keep what had happened at Alqualonde a secret from the Sindar, not in so many words, thought Maedhros. If they had managed to reach such an agreement, somebody might perhaps have broken it already. But all the tensions between them seemed to have prevented them from even discussing it—even before Fingolfin and his followers had arrived, they had avoided the subject amongst themselves, and afterwards, it became virtually unmentionable. He had managed to have diplomatic discussions with Fingolfin on very fraught subjects, but there was just no way he could have raised how he had dragged his son into a Kinslaying, however unplanned.

He remembered the scene only too clearly, of course; the terrible memories that came after had not blurred the edges: the heady rush of relief and gratitude, the rising horror…

You are here? You are here! Oh no, you are here!

And Fingon’s face almost mirroring those emotions: flushed and open one moment, painfully withdrawing, shutting down the next.

It had been so dark there. It was tempting to delude oneself that this—and all the rest, too—was no more than a nightmare bred by darkness. But they all knew better.

Fingon and he had not managed to discuss it between them, then or later; the few oblique references they had exchanged could not amount to discussion and had led nowhere, really.

And, so, the conflict between the Noldor had kept the secret better than an agreement would have. It was impossible to speak about their own transgressions, without implicating and betraying others that had not consented to such a revelation. And they could not face another betrayal.

His own observations about the Sindar he encountered, compared to the Falmari, kept shifting: they were not as different, as he had supposed at first, merely by not being of Aman or under Treelight. He was able to see shared Telerin traits more clearly, as he got to know them better, but also became more aware of the impact of different cultures with a long history behind them—at least here in the North. In the South, there seemed to be more people who still remembered Olwe and the others from before.

But it was not only about what the Sindar might think or how they might react, although that was an important political consideration, of course. As recent events showed, it was about what the past, not dealt with, was doing to them themselves.

Maedhros, thinking about these things, drifted off into uneasy sleep. In his dream, as he sometimes did, he instinctively reached out to Fingon and, this night, it seemed as if Fingon was there, although his presence remained hazy and ill-defined, even in the dream.

‘I did not betray you, this time,’ said Maedhros to him. ‘I kept the secret. But what is becoming of us?’

Dream-Fingon had no answers for him. He seemed unable to speak at all, but neither did his presence withdraw or fade away, remaining with him until daybreak.

Maedhros awoke with none of his questions resolved, but nevertheless warmed and comforted by his dream—less ashamed and more hopeful.

[cringecompanionapologist]

Turlough Tales 2: Planet of Fire

I've marked this as a sequel to make it clear that there's an original out there for people to seek out if they need context for these.

I realize that this whole thing is a bit weird. Before the internet, fanzines were where fanfic was published, so these stories from a fanzine really should be on the same level as something posted on Ao3, but it feels different. Magazines are published. Stories have to be approved by an editor, and people pay for the magazine. (in theory, anyway. I'm getting these from archive.org). It makes fanzine fanfics feel more "official" than online ones. They went through a "quality control" process my fics don't have to. So, it's tempting to treat these fanzine stories as more like Short Trips, which were published by either the BBC or Big Finish. But, they're not, so I'm analyzing fanworks as if they can be compared to official EU material, because my zillennial brain can't comprehend pre-internet fanfiction. To people who were active in fandom, reading fanzines in 1996, I probably look like a bit of a dumbass.

Anyway...

I probably should've included a cut like this in the last one. Also, this is gonna take a while. I have a lot to talk about here.

Before we start on this next story, there's a quote in the same issue of the magazine that I think is vital to understanding why this exists the way it does. Peter Grimwade, inventor of the Trions, had a take on them different from anything I've seen anywhere else.

So, this story I think is more based on the idea of Trions as a Planet of Lawyers.

You see, in sci-fi, because writing a planet as complex and diverse as Earth, unless it's the only planet depicted in the story, is virtually impossible, alien worlds are often given a single culture that, though it can be explored in more detail, can pretty much be summed up in a single word. The trope that is doing this is called the Planet of Hats. The "hat" being a single concept that defines the culture of the planet that the audience gets to see. Star Trek has done this a fuckton of times, which a Planet of Logic, Planet of Honor Codes, Planet of Capitalism, and Planet of Pure Devotion to the State, to (not) name a few. (This was about Vulcans, Klingons, Ferengi, and Cardassians, if you're a Trekkie but couldn't figure that out lol).

In Doctor Who, with a few exceptions, specific alien worlds aren't often explored for more than one story, so the clear Planet of Hats you see in Star Trek isn't always obvious. Gallifrey can get a certain amount of development, and a few other planets are featured more than once (Skaro, Mondas, and Peladon, to name a few), but you usually don't get full cultures from them, since Daleks and Cybermen are too uniform to really have much of a culture to speak of. Daleks are the "kill everyone" people and Cybermen are the "convert everyone" people. Sontarans are Planet of War though, so that kind of works.

Trion is never even directly visited by the Doctor onscreen, so it gets little development. They had a civil war and Turlough's from there. That's all the show really gives us. This meant EU media could basically do whatever the fuck they wanted with it, as could fan works. However, there were a few more details that popped up early on, and thus became adopted by most people.

A Brief History of Doctor Who EU Nonsense:

Most Doctor Who EU media began during the Wilderness Years, when the show was off the air. There are a few exceptions to this. Doctor Who Magazine started doing comics in around 1980, and the magazine had a semi-official status, so you had proper tie-in comics for the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th Doctors while their episodes were still airing.

Before that, there were annuals, yearly books of comics and short stories. The first one of these was published in 1965 and most of them had virtually nothing to do with the show until the 1980s. In the 1980s, JNT became producer and changed how basically everything worked. One of those changes was taking control of the EU, making sure the people working for more popular magazines and working on annuals and ongoing comic strips had access to enough information to know what was going on in the actual show. The children these things were aimed at earlier were assumed to not care, but Doctor Who in the 80s was marketed less to children and more to people who'd already been watching Doctor Who for at least a decade. The show took on a more serious tone and referenced its continuity more to pander to this new target demographic, and making sure the annuals didn't contradict the show was just a nice little side effect of the change.

This also applies to TV Comic, a comic strip that began in 1964 and was running beside and pretty much completely detached from the show throughout the 60s and 70s. It basically ended when DWM took over Doctor Who comic writing duties.

But, I just wasted your time on a bunch of this that don't matter here, because the only pre-1990 EU relevant to this story are the Target novelizations and a short-lived book series called The Companions of Doctor Who.

Planet of Fire got a novelization, like all classic serials eventually did, but it was one of the lucky ones to get a novelization not long after the episodes aired, written by the same person who wrote said episodes, making the serial and its novelization sort of equally canon to each other, coming from the same brain. The serial aired in 1984 and the novelization came out in 1985.

The novelization added a bit to Turlough's backstory, namely that the civil war was a revolution against the Imperial Clans, a group of families that had ruled the planet before. Turlough's family was one of the Imperial Clans. When the regime was overthrown, surviving members of the clans were either executed or exiled. What the Imperial Clans were beyond "the rulers of Trion" is never elaborated upon.

But, in 1986, someone did. This was the first of a series of spin-off novels called The Companions of Doctor Who, which followed companions after they left the TARDIS. In the end, the series had only three entries, the third of which was a novelization of K9 and Company, a failed spin-off about Sarah Jane and K9. So the only real entries are Turlough and the Earthlink Dilemma and Harry Sullivan's War. Harry Sullivan's War had the advantage of being written by Ian Marter, who played Harry and therefore understood the character very well.

Tony Attwood, who wrote Turlough and the Earthlink Dilemma, had nothing to do with the show and the both is not well-liked by Turlough fans. As far as I can tell, Attwood did talk to Mark Strickson while writing the novel, but not to Peter Grimwade, which he wasn't happy about. Still, the Imperial Clans from the novelization were included in The Earthlink Dilemma, portrayed as a sort of caste of scientists that ruled Trion for millennia, while mostly allowing the commoners to do their own thing. A lot of work is done to make the Imperial Clans seem good and make the leader of the revolution a terrible person who basically led a Reign of Terror (her name is Thatcher spelled backwards!!!).

This means that when Trion is given a Planet of Hats effect, they're more often a Planet of Scientists than a Planet of Lawyers. Turlough is proud of Trion scientific achievements and, when he returns to Trion, welcomed back as a hero and offered political power in the democratic government, he instead decides to be an astrophysicist. He just wanted to be a scientist this whole time. It's actually a pretty interesting take on the character, which is why it tends to stick around.

But, this story in this fanzine (remember that that's what this post was supposed to be about?) really leans into the Planet of Lawyers aspect and offers an alternate ending.

You can tell it's not canon because Vizlov. Not Vislor, nor Vizlor, but Vizlov. Oops.

Anyway, you can see that this version of Turlough was apparently charged with treason for rebelling against the government, instead of being part of the regime that was rebelled against. Said government is referred to as New Trion though, which muddies the waters.

Turlough's exile has a different purpose here. The Trions are basically trying to gain legal control of Earth and Turlough's exile was intended to have him eventually participate in that plan, as well as training in "primitive systems" as a sort of character-building exercise.

It seems that Turlough was blamed for the destruction of Sarn, because the Trions had no idea about the Master or anything else that was going on there. They thought Turlough, after escaping Earth, deliberately destroyed Sarn for Reasons. The exact charges:

He did escape his exile on Earth.

"Consorting with undesirable aliens" is an interesting one. Since Trions are actively involved on Earth, I don't think this would mean humans. This might mean the Doctor? Other EU works reveal that the Time Lords colonized Trion, so there might be a conflict there.

He's also seen as being involved in overthrowing the religious regime on Sarn, which is apparently protected in some way. Sarn is also considered government property that Turlough destroyed because, once again, the Trions don't know what actually happened and have no interest in listening to Turlough.

The Trions also have no way of knowing about Tegan, since she'd already left by Planet of Fire, but this bit is funny.

Turlough had been lured to Trion under false pretenses, expecting not to be immediately arrested again. There's some Lawyer Speak: You won't be persecuted for his previous crimes, but they will persecute him for new ones. Also Lomand has taken credit for Turlough's heroics. The bastard. Also, apparently political criminals don't exist because the motivation of the crimes do not matter...

Though, this story, like The Earthlink Dilemma, doesn't say what happens to Malkon in all this.

He can't prove the existence of the Guardians. Though, when it comes to his departure from Earth, Turlough is actually being dishonest here. He chose to go with the Doctor and was obviously desperate to escape Earth, so he is actually guilty on that one.

Also, Turlough encountered Tractators, which is enough to justify exile, because existing in the same space as Tractators threatens Trion? Because it's an infection? Maybe they're the "undesirable aliens"...

So, instead of going back to Brendon, he's now basically an intern to the lawyer who'd been handling his case, possibly to once again participate in the legal conquest of Earth they've got going.

We end on a sort of Where Are They Now? where we learn how Turlough's doing in 1996 (present day when the zine was published).

"Doctors have been manipulating him all his life" Ouch...

He definitely has reason to feel abandoned by the Doctor here. The Doctor didn't exactly check to confirm that Turlough was actually going home as a hero and not being lured into a trap. Perhaps the Doctor could've explained things to the other Trions somehow, or just straight up helped him escape.

So Turlough becomes a lawyer in an army of lawyers from the Planet of Lawyers trying to take over Earth. That's hilarious but also sad.

I still prefer "Returns to Trion as a hero but turns down the spotlight to become an astrophysicist" though.

[hoursofreading]

There is a whole scholarly industry devoted to scribal reworkings of the Roman de la Rose. Given the controversial nature of some of Dante’s material, scribes might well have been tempted to censor the text by cutting awkward passages. But this is virtually impossible with the terza rima. Any cut will leave a text which is obviously botched. Any attempt to add material is likewise doomed to failure. The demanding form ensures that only a very good poet can handle it with confidence. In English, as has often been noted, the phonetic character of the language—the dense consonant clusters, which are so unlike the natural musicality of Italian, with its higher proportion of vowels—makes terza rima especially demanding. Only Shelley’s unfinished “The Triumph of Life,” the poem on which he was working at the time of his death, gives a sense of effortless mastery of the form which recalls Dante.

Prue Shaw - Reading Dante_ From Here to Eternity-Liveright (2014)

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: Hehe call me a hypocrite, but as much as I hate cliffhangers, I shall be benevolent and gift you all one. This chapter is written me :). My cowriter is the lovely Nyota (@labaguetteisdabest). You can find the masterlist here

Warning(s): cursing, animal murder, snakes, Kaeda has ✨daddy issues ✨, talks about committing murder, implications of death, blood, gore, the usual.

Pairing(s): Kaepex

Trudging through the forests of Fujimura, I hear crickets in the distance, along with the occasional growl of another infected animal. But they left me alone.  

‘Thank you, Mabel,’ I think, as the smell of fresh fruits waft through the air. But I ignore it, knowing that I can’t be tempted by the gifts of the woods. 

Who knows what’s safe out here.  

I was already in my new set of clothes, thankfully I only had an hour left before I’d see the palace gates. My mother once told me the palace was so large, the forests I was in right now merely served as a backyard for them. Or it used to be- until savage beasts started prowling the lands. 

To think only this morning I was still on the ship back to Dodomi.  

Cari’s last words to me ring in the back of my mind - “Don’t be too hard on her, okay?” 

The water princess’s pitifully striking blue eyes, ones that carried so much emotion. 

She must really care for Apex. 

Mabel’s blood still shone brightly against my skin, a reminder of what I still needed to do. 

I’m almost there. Suddenly, pain flares up in my side, and I can’t walk any further. 

Damnit! 

Leaning against a tree, I slowly inch down, trying not to cause any more pain- even though whimpers occasionally leave my mouth. I gingerly life my shirt up- only to be met with ugly purples and angry reds that now adorned the side of my torso.  

Dropping the fabric of my shirt again, I take a deep breath, getting up slowly. 

Cooling my hand slightly, I keep it placed over my side. Just as the nursemaid back on Watarumi said; When in doubt, ice it.  

And then I kept moving. 

I couldn’t waste any more time. 

My thoughts wander again, as I think about what we’d have to do once I find Apex. 

We’d have so find some way to heal all on Dodomi – but of course we were mildly inconvenienced by the fact that it was virtually impossible so that was wonderful. 

Perhaps there was a way we could ask the gods for help.  

I hear some ruslting in the distance – except this time, it was a lot closer. 

Damnit. 

I didn’t have any weapons, meaning no way to defend myself. 

Unless I used my Reya. 

But slowly freezing the blood of an animal driven by its sole instinct to survive was heartlessly cruel. 

In the end though, it was all of Dodomi or one animal. 

And so, letting energy course through my veins, I feel the air around my fingertips slowly become chilly – the humidity making it easier to freeze the water molecules in the oxygen around me, forcing it to take its solid form. 

My entire arm was now enveloped in a frozen gauntlet – and with the right contact, it would freeze the bloodstream of the creature awaiting me. 

But I couldn’t stray from the path.  

So, I let the animal find me.  

HIISSS!! 

The robust serpent slithered out of the tree it was hiding in – its head probably the size of the sole of my foot. 

Like the leopard from before, its eyes were bloodred, its scales reflecting the dull moonlight that peeked through the thing canopy of trees above.  

But this time – the hungry and predatorial look in its eyes was only met by the icy stare I had mastered so many years ago. 

Eyes devoid of emotion, soulless grey storms, churning pits of emptiness. 

I learnt from the best, after all. 

As it lunged to sink its fangs into my thigh, I lifted my foot, and bringing it down to what would be its neck, transferring the ice around my hand to create an icy boot, successfully freezing the snake’s airways shut.  

The reptile – nothing more than a limp rag on the ground – started to ooze a disgusting blue acid-like liquid from its mouth, and the scent burned my nostrils, so I turned and moved on. 

But my heart pounded in my ears, almost disbelieving how short that struggle was. I killed something with such natural ease... 

I was just like him. 

Tyrion Loki Cynet, King of Khaenpani and my birth father, eyes colder than the violent sea that smashed against the cliffs around our kingdom.  

Just the thought of it built a sour taste in my mouth. As it always did when I thought about him. Only worried about how I behaved not how I felt. It was always about the outside with him. 

He would always be a better king than father. Always concerned about his reputation his image, his legacy.  

He was the youngest brother in his family – his hold on the throne was barely there. But then, after a brutal battle with a known gang of bandits in the area, he was given the nickname the Stained Prince – for the blood he spilt that stained our snowy fields of Khaenpanii. And with the fame it brought him – the people thought he would be the most fit to protect them – and they pushed for him to be crowned heir. 

7 years later, he was crowned king. 

His reputation.  

After I was born, I realized I had not one father but two. One was a strict but well-meaning ruler who wanted the best for his people. The other only showed himself at home, creating a dictatorship within his own home.  

HIs image. 

The five years I had known him, he had only talked to me about one thing and one thing only. And that was how I had to become Syla for the Cynet family – how I born for that, and for that only. Every day of my childhood was filled with him forcing my deference to his every will and command. He had shaped my goals into his. 

HIs legacy. 

And now, I was becoming just like him, taking life without a single thought in my mind. 

Damnit. 

*** 

Crunch. 

Crunch. 

Crunch. 

My feet ached as I neared the final stretch of my journey, begging me to stop, but I was almost there. 

And as the gates of Asraxvale came into view, my heart leapt in my chest. 

I did it. 

Thank the gods. 

The gates were chipped and rusted shut, but I had expected as much. It only confirmed my suspicions that Espyns could be affected by this virus as well. 

So I climbed over it, my feet finding footholds in the wrought iron, before reaching the top. I swung my legs over the gate and jumped down – the smooth stone path underneath my feet thankfully lead me to the main entrance of the palace.  

Everything felt off though, it just seemed...too easy. 

But I could just be paranoid after the forest. So, pushing the twisting feeling in my gut away, I made my way to the palace gates, pushing the grand doors open just to hear the big thud reverberate through the empty halls. 

And laying on the floor, in a pool of blood, was Princess Adrienne ‘Apex’ Pyracent. 

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: February 2024

How we doing, folks? Didn't do much between Sailor Moon and Cowboy Bebop, but I made the most of it.

Perfect Blue

JDJWIXBEYSIFNEHXOABSUD I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH! Psychological horror is my favorite kind, and questions of self, sanity, and perception can be so juicy. This movie made me so fucking uncomfortable the first time I watched it that I didn't think I'd be able to sit through it again, and now I love it even more every time. Even outside of the story, it's just an incredible piece of filmmaking. The transitions in the opening scene alone, shifting between Mima's different personas so seamlessly in motion but so jarringly in presentation, could be a short film on their own. But then the rest of the movie is like that. Reality and illusion weave together so tightly that I still can't fully pin down what's what (I think the key is somewhere in the overexposed vs the saturated shots, but I keep forgetting to pay attention to that to make sure). The soundtrack lends itself brilliantly to the uneasiness and anxiety, and even divorced from the context of the movie, I can't bring myself to listen to "Virtual Mima" all the way through. It's too effective. On the other hand, I also can't comfortably listen to "Angel Of Love," thanks to context, but it's a fun pop song if you've never seen the elevator scene. It's impossible to overstate how much heavy lifting the soundtrack is doing. The story itself is simple enough, a young woman having an identity crisis in the spotlight while a stalker targets the people around her, but the way it unfolds is such a mindfuck, it warrants rewatching (and rewatching and rewatching, etc). I've already mentioned the transitions in the opening, and that expands later on into flashbacks, dreams, scenes that seem to be real life but are later revealed as part of the crime drama Mima is filming. It makes it hard to predict what is really going on, right up until the moment before a thing happens and that one tiny clue makes everything else click into place. This is the kind of writing I aspire to. As if that's not enough, the themes of celebrity worship, obsession, exploitation in the entertainment industry, and mental illness, and this movie stays relevant. For all that it takes place during the shift from analog to digital and the early days of the internet, it feels eerily timeless. It's my go-to in conversation about movies: have you seen Perfect Blue?

Labyrinth

If I'd been obsessed with *this* Jim Henson movie instead of The Dark Crystal when I was younger, who knows how it might have changed me as a person. Meh, probably not that much, tbh, since I've always loved stories like this. Which leads me to one of my favorite themes in fiction that I don't really see discussed in regards to this: the stories we tell ourselves. In Sarah's case, her indecisiveness (does she want to be the hero or the villain, and consequently, who does she want Jareth to be?) and unwillingness to lead the story is, ironically, what drives the story. The story she tells herself just happens to her, and she's not responsible for any of it, and it's not fair. A childish mindset, of course, and naturally her arc concerns taking responsibility for herself and learning to balance it with a healthy relationship to fantasy. When put that way, it's even more obvious how important it is that she refuse Jareth and his offer, "Let me rule you, and you can have everything." Stay in this dream world and everything you could ever want or desire is yours forever? A tempting offer for anyone, and Sarah's decision is a.) What finally, truly assigns her the role of the hero, and b.) Pretty wise, considering she's only a teenager. That's all Jareth has to offer, is a dream, and in her own words, "it's all junk." And speaking of Jareth... It's probably for the best I didn't grow up with fear me, love me, etc in my system, because it's done enough of a number on me as it is. What else to say? He's David fricken Bowie, what more do you need to say? This also applies to the music, just so we're clear (and that goes double for "Chilly Down"). And for the rest, it's Jim fricken Henson!

Mrs Brown's Boys

And that's basically the series so far in a nutshell. It kinda reminds me of The Carol Burnett Show, if there were episodic plot lines instead of sketch comedy and they'd been allowed to swear. I think that's mostly to do with the fourth wall and/or character breaks throughout, the former of which happens frequently enough to be a running gag but not so often it becomes a gimmick, and the latter is always fun no matter what you're watching.

Wolf Creek 2

So, if you start playing franchise bingo with slasher movies, you notice the villains themselves fall into two categories: they either don't talk and they're boring/only there to be indestructible killing machines, or they do talk and they're the absolute worst/will kill you for sure but will have so much fun doing it. (This excludes Terrifier, which is an outlier adn should not be counted.) And you can guess which category Mick Taylor falls into. I posted a few thoughts while watching this one, and I think overall, I dig it. The flashier action bits are to be expected, given that sequels tend to take the bigger-is-better approach, but other than that? Consistent as hell from the first one. Tense, graphic, and mean-spirited, with gorgeous cinematography, protagonists you can root for, and a villain who is both just fucking AWFUL and charismatic enough to make you question your judgement. And apparently there's a series???

[fairytail-whathesays]

oooo top 5 fights where u want to see someone get their ass COOKED by someone else in particular

I presume we are disallowing fights where one party did get their ass cooked i.e. Natsu vs. Laxus, Cobra, or Ultear, so that just leaves...

1. Jellal vs. Oracion Seis Round 2

In which Jellal gets beaten into the dirt to within an inch of his life by the people he enslaved and traumatized. Not with some weird excuse, either--I want this dude at full power and humbled so hard he just withers and dies.

2. Erza vs... well, anybody, really.

Shock of shocks, we actually had something akin to this in 100yq, or so I'm told. And as if to tempt me even more into reading that dreck (but I'm resisting! I won't be reeled in!) it was Laxus that delivered it.

But I need Erza to stop being so freakin' invincible. I need her to lose a fight 1v1 with no excuses. I need her nakama hakama to not be enough.

3. Juvia vs. Gray

Juvia's tumor of a love life started when she met and fought Gray, and so it stands to reason that the only thing that can make her be her own character again is losing another fight.

One fight. If Juvia wins, she gets Gray. If she loses, she has to give up and let Gray date other girls or guys. And she loses bad.

4. Doranbolt vs. Basically Anyone Idec

In the manga proper, we only ever got one example of Doranbolt in a fight, and it was pretty heavily implied he lost on purpose because his true aim was to explore Tenrou Island and dig around for Fairy Tail secrets.

The anime corrects this, and Doranbolt--who can teleport--is put up against Racer of the Neo Oracion Seis. Mind you, Racer seven years prior was considered to be a menace virtually impossible to take out 1v1, and that was when he didn't have any actual speed. In X791, Racer's moving so fast he can launch his body through heavy artillery before anyone even has a chance to react. Doranbolt doesn't win the fight, but he keeps Racer pretty cleanly occupied for a while without dying, and this was while hungover and seven years out of practice.

It's brilliant, and it makes me want to see what Doranbolt would look like on the winning side of a fight, which shouldn't be hard to set up because Doranbolt a) can teleport and b) can teleport, thank you.

5. Ivan Dreyar vs. Laxus, or whoever the hell else.

Come on, man. Ivan Dreyar getting his ass beat should be an annual event everyone in Fairy Tail looks forward to. I want him to do something genuinely villainous that pisses everyone off and get treated to a smackdown that goes on forever like Hades did.

[ewakx]

DISCOVER AND LIVE PURPOSE – 1️⃣ purpose identified.

Did you miss the lesson in verses 1-8 of Mark chapter 1? We are ALL created with a mission (not impossible). Know yours, and many things will fall in place. Don’t know how? Read previous post.

PSST – SIDE BAR Someone asked me a question. She asked if it is possible to hear God if she isn’t Christian. I told her that it is possible because Saul, when he was struck with blindness, wasn’t yet a disciple (Acts 9:4-6). Ask God to speak to you and He will.

After Jesus was baptized in the river Jordan (by JtB), the Holy Spirit drove Him to the mountains for seclusion and what the world might call programming. This was after He obeyed the prophecy of baptism by the messenger before Him. So pleased was God that as soon as He came up out of the river, the heavens opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon Him like a dove, and God declared His pleasure, “Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

For 40 days and 40 nights Jesus was practically ‘seasoned’ in a holy experience of what I’d call prayer, and ministry by the angels. Expect a fast to be a time of refreshing, and programming and temptation. 😏

Jesus fasted and afterwards was tempted (if you haven’t already read it, go read Matthew chapter 4 – to be covered in another Bible Study).

It is worthy to note that this account in the book of Mark says that shortly after, John was imprisoned. While in prison I’m sure it was virtually impossible to continue to baptize anyone in the Jordan so maybe he did it another way, but the Bible doesn’t say so. I’m just wondering out loud in print. 

Jesus then went from Judaea to Galilee and preached the message of repentance. “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye and believe the gospel.” If you are hearing it (somewhere else), and reading about it, this, I believe one purpose we all have is to preach the gospel and get others reconciled to the family we should belong to. No one should be left behind. 

It is written (in the Bible) in 2 Corinthians 5 17 “… if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. 18 And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. 20 Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, …”

SO… purpose numero uno for ALL CHRISTIANS is to preach the gospel to the ones who don’t know it, so they can be reconciled with our Heavenly Father. 

ARE YOU A CHRISTIAN worshipping God in spirit and in truth? If you’re not sure then my friend, you ain’t. Talk to Him and tell Him you want to return. Listen out for His voice and He’ll lead. Juuuust follow. You know it’s Him because He never leads you to do what’s wrong. He won’t ask you to wrongfully affect another human being just so you can touch His heart. He’ll give you a heart for others (a heart of flesh – Ezekiel 36:26 A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh).

Let me know if you did. I’ll throw a virtual praise party for you.

By the way, there are some who’ll argue that this is not a purpose for them. Let me clarify. If you think deeply about how we came to be created, how limbs and organs function – you know it’s not a bang, or evolution or some gobbledygook. There must be someone greater and so far I believe it can only be God. I think when we realize this, we should do what He says. I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of His love.

[silverliningcollision]

Car Paint Shop's Professional Service Protects Your Car's Value

Boost Your Car’s Aesthetic and Resale Value with An Expert Paint Job from Silver Lining Collision, Dallas

Dallas, TX – When it comes to maintaining the look and value of your vehicle, one important aspect is the paint job. At Silver Lining Collision, a trusted Dallas car paint shop, the team understands how critical a high-quality paint job is, not just for aesthetics but for the long-term value of your car. Whether you’ve been in a collision or simply want to refresh the appearance of your vehicle, a professional paint job from a reliable auto paint and body shop can help protect and preserve your car.

The Role of a Paint Job in Maintaining Your Vehicle’s Appearance

A car’s paint is much more than just a decorative layer. It plays an essential role in protecting your vehicle from the elements, including harmful UV rays, rain, and dirt. Over time, exposure to these elements can cause fading and deterioration of your car’s paint, leading to an unattractive appearance. Choosing a reputable body and paint shop like Silver Lining Collision can restore your car’s exterior to its original brilliance.

The paint job also provides a sense of pride for many car owners. A sleek, shiny finish reflects your commitment to keeping your vehicle in top shape. A well-maintained paint job improves the overall aesthetic of your vehicle and increases its visual appeal to others.

How a Quality Paint Job Protects Your Car

A professional paint job does much more than just enhance the visual appeal of your vehicle. It acts as a protective barrier against the elements. At Silver Lining Collision, their experienced team of professionals utilizes top-tier materials and techniques to do a paint job that safeguards the metal body of your car from rust and corrosion. When your car’s paint is chipped or scratched, it exposes the metal underneath, leaving it vulnerable to water and moisture, which can lead to costly repairs down the line.

A quality paint job applied by experts at a trusted auto paint and body shop in Dallas ensures your car remains in excellent condition. This level of care helps preserve the integrity of the car’s body, preventing rust from forming and ensuring your car remains in working order for years to come.

The Connection Between Paint Job Quality and Resale Value

Your car’s resale value is directly impacted by the condition of its exterior. A car with a dull or damaged paint job is less likely to fetch a high price when it’s time to sell. On the other hand, a car with a pristine paint job can increase its value considerably. According to industry reports, vehicles with well-maintained exteriors tend to sell for a higher price compared to those with visible imperfections.

The Silver Lining Collision team understands that the condition of your vehicle’s paint can influence its market value. By choosing a high-quality car paint shop in Dallas, you are enhancing your car’s appearance and investing in its resale potential.

Why Avoid DIY Paint Jobs and Choose Service from a Body and Paint Shop

While it might be tempting to attempt a DIY paint job on your vehicle, the results rarely compare to those from a professional body and paint shop. Many DIY paint kits may seem like a cost-effective solution, but they often lead to poor results, including uneven coverage, runs, and chips. Additionally, without the proper tools and experience, achieving the level of finish and durability found in a professional paint job is virtually impossible.

Professional auto paint and body shops, such as Silver Lining Collision, have the expertise and equipment needed to achieve a flawless finish. Their team is trained to apply high-quality paints that are specifically formulated to stay longer and provide better protection than standard DIY options. Opting for an experienced body and paint shop is the best way to guarantee a job is well done and a vehicle that stays looking great for years to come.

Choosing the Right Body and Paint Shop in Dallas

When selecting a car paint shop, it’s important to choose a shop with a reputation for quality and attention to detail. Silver Lining Collision has been serving the Dallas area with expert collision repair and paint services for years, helping customers restore their vehicles to their original condition. Their professional team is equipped with the latest tools and knowledge to provide the highest standard of service, making them one of the most trusted car paint shops in Dallas.

Customers can trust Silver Lining Collision to provide timely, reliable, and precise painting services. Whether it's a minor touch-up or a complete repaint after a collision, the team is ready to handle any job with the utmost care.

Investing in Your Vehicle’s Future With A Paint Job At Silver Lining Collision in Dallas

A high-quality paint job is an essential investment in both the appearance and resale value of your vehicle. Silver Lining Collision, a leading body and paint shop in Dallas, TX, offers expert services to keep your vehicle looking its best. Whether you’ve recently been in a collision or simply want to refresh your car’s appearance, trust the professionals at Silver Lining Collision for a flawless paint job that will protect your vehicle and increase its value. For more information or to schedule an appointment, visit Silver Lining Collision in Dallas, TX, or contact them at (469) 300-5282 or eman@slcollision.com.

Contact Information:

Silver Lining Collision

1860 W Mockingbird Ln Dallas, TX 75235 United States

Emanuel Gonzalez (469) 300-5282 https://slcollision.com

[fromdevcom]

With markets in turmoil and the COVID-19 volatility continuing to affect the global stock market and currency exchange rate, basic trading norms have shifted considerably. Strategies that worked before are no longer as reliable or as profitable. To succeed in this new paradigm, investors need to look beyond traditional trading styles and rules. Covid-19 Trading Here are five modified tips and tactics that are better suited to the new world of investing in which we find ourselves. They have been prepared by the experienced cfds trading team at Investous to help you grow your investments in these uncertain times. Pulling out All the Stops A stop-loss is one of a trader’s most important tools, regardless of market sentiment. However, its importance is even more critical now. In response to the increased daily volatility, there has been a trend of investors widening stop distance. While this is an effective tactic, always keep in mind that it magnifies your exposure as well. If your position size exceeds your budget for withstanding losses, it defeats the purpose of creating a stop-loss in the first place. You can adapt your profit strategy with this method, too. It can be tempting to abandon your profit targets when the volatility works in your favor. Instead of just riding the wave, specify a trailing stop to lock in your profits. Leverage From forex to commodities to derivatives, leverage is one of the most effective ways to magnify your returns without injecting additional capital into your trading account. Since the daily range of movements is often distinctly higher than in the pre-COVID-19 period, leverage decisions based on reliable indicators can significantly boost your profits. However, leverage also magnifies losses by the same factor and you should make leveraging decisions carefully based on the latest financial news and data. Trade Duration In normal times, it was a generally reasonable and risk-free practice to leave trades active even when you were not closely monitoring finance industry sentiment and market movements. That is no longer the case now that both US and global stocks and currencies are susceptible to major overnight movements. In a perfect world, you would be able to monitor the data and make investing decisions as events unfold in real time. However, that scenario is impossible even for professional traders. The safer option now is to liquidate your positions at the end of each day. While this approach may curtail your profits, it also insulates you against losses. Equity Risk Equity is the value of your assets minus the liabilities. Every time that you expose an asset you own to the market, you are exposing it to the risk of the market’s fluctuations and corrections. The average casual trader risks between 3% and 5% of his or her account value for each trade. An extended series of successive downward moves by the market can potentially reduce that account value to zero. In a less extreme scenario, it could still wipe out a significant fraction of your account. While this was virtually impossible before Covid-19 spread its tentacles out of China, it is a reasonable risk to consider today. We would advise limiting your exposure to the market to between 1% and 2% now. Investous may revise this figure if there is tangible evidence of market fundamentals strengthening in the future. Orders Orders are instructions to buy or sell when the value of a stock hits a certain value. They are the best tool in an investor’s hands when it comes to combating the volatility that COVID-19 has triggered. There are two basic types of orders - market orders and limit orders. A market order is an order to buy or sell as soon as it is issued. It is the preferred method of traders who have the opportunity and ability to monitor market trends and prices in real time. Limit orders are instructions to buy or sell when the value of a stock, currency exchange rate, commodity or derivative touches a predetermined value.

They allow traders to buy and sell multiple assets simultaneously when favorable opportunities present themselves. Successful investors are marked by their attention to details and the ability to keep up with local and global developments. If you need a guiding hand in these uncertain times, contact Investous for perceptive and effective insights.