#(which every human being in the world has - even that bastard)

[idyllicidols]

Desire.

Shin Yuna. The world sees her as a world famous idol, a paragon of beauty of grace. An individual to look up to, a person to aspire towards. Some might see her as untouchable, in a social sphere somewhere near the clouds. But she is more than just an idol with a hectic schedule and a busy life. Yuna is a real life human being, and every human has their flaws, their desires, their dark secrets that they need to keep hidden from the world.

And right now Yuna sure is living up to desires.

"You gonna do it? You gonna cum on my face?"

There she is, the picture perfect idol, sitting on her feet, naked as the day she was born. Surrounding her are three hand selected males, her hand vigorously pumping the cock directly in front of her. Yuna's eyes are firmly set on the glistening knob that her hands are wrapped around, her fingers nimbly moving from tip to hilt, her thumb digging into the meat and tugging and massaging with ferocious intent.

The other two aren't just standing idly by—they're groping and spanking whatever they feel like, an opportunity like this one is unheard of, but a gift Yuna loves to indulge. You see, underneath that cute and bubbly personality, and beyond all her flawless photoshoots and iconic concerts, the fact remains that Yuna is, above everything else, a cock obsessed slut.

The feeling of multiple hands and several hard, throbbing members grazing her petite body always fills Yuna with a pleasure that no amount of her fingers can ever truly match. The pinching of her nipples, the light and harsh spanks to her ass, the feeling of a cock throbbing in her hands. All of these things send her reeling into euphoria.

"Do it! Cum on my face. You gonna make me work for it? Do I have to suck you off? Make you cum by slurping your juices? My hand not enough?"

Her questions comes with a gentle lick to the underside of his shaft. It makes the cock twitch violently in Yuna's firm grip. He's already reaching his climax, that much is evident to Yuna. The only thing she needs now is for him to vocalize.

"I'm gonna... Yuna, I'm..."

"Come on, babe."

With a guttural moan, Yuna feels her cheek being covered by a blast of sticky warmth, followed by spurts of cum across her lips and chin and nose.

She looks down, mouth gaping, tongue hanging out, eye's narrow. The feeling of the sticky substance smeared over her skin, a marking that has her feel warm all over.

"Who's next?!" Yuna moves away from the well spent man, turning her attention to the other two behind her. One has his hands clasped to Yuna's ample ass, the other never stops roughly groping and grabbing her tits, pulling her nipples this and that way.

Yuna doesn't even know these lucky bastard's names—and that's precisely the point. All she knows is that they're some of her biggest fans, and because Yuna's not one to disappoint her supporters, the only reasonable thing for her to do is invite them back to her hotel room for an honest to God gangbang.

No real names, no exchanging numbers. Just a night of fun.

It's Yuna's idea of an ideal way to unwind before an important gig, and she's taking it upon herself to fully indulge.

"You know I offer more than just hand jobs right? My mouth, my pussy...my ass."

Yuna puts some emphasis when she says the word ass—she knows how taboo it is, to be an idol who loves to be fucked in her forbidden hole. Tempting over eager fan boys is such a power rush to Yuna, especially since she always gets what she wants in the end. And tonight will be no different.

Not only does the sudden spurt of her words catch the other two guys off guard, so do her slender fingers, that have already found their way around the nearest cock.

She looks up into his eyes, practically staring into his soul.

"So what do you say sweetheart? Which hole do you wanna fuck? Do you want my mouth? Is it my pussy you craving?"

Yuna smirks.

"Or maybe," her other hand slowly reaches to her asshole, "you're gonna shove your cock right here and treat me like a total anal slut."

She isn't quite touching her tight hole, but her fingertips hover tantalizing close. Close enough to make the guy think of exactly what she's describing, all the dirty details, from start to end. And the mere thought is starting to make him go crazy.

"Have you ever done anal before?"

Her soft and playful tone is hard to resist. This entire experience has left the guy totally speechless. He shakes his head, unable to verbalize any words of any kind.

"Well what do you say Hun? Wanna pop your anal virginity with a world famous superstar?"

Yuna doesn't even give him a chance to answer—she bends down on the bed, ass up face down, spread apart in a position that leaves her totally open to her new fuck buddies.

He watches in absolute shock and disbelief as Yuna playfully wiggles her plump behind, teasingly caressing her puckering asshole in a display that leaves him unable to hold off. He licks his fingers, saliva coating his palm as he reaches forward to insert his middle finger into Yuna's butt. She wasn't lying; Yuna is an anal loving slut, a star whore, and this position is making her squirm. The soft, coos leaving her lips are proof of the immense arousal coursing through her veins. The fact that her pussy is dripping means even more.

"I don't want your finger," Yuna turns back, staring into his eyes again, "I want your cock."

He pulls his finger out with a lewd squelching sound, only to replace it with his cock—hard and pulsating, a sheer result of the slutty actions from the girl splayed out in front of him, seemingly on a platter.

The tip presses against Yuna's eager asshole. She starts to whimper, just slightly, an involuntary reflex as a wave of pleasure fills her veins. It's about to begin, and that moment is like heaven to Yuna.

"Do it," she utters, more quietly now that the tip of his cock is pressing up against her most private place. "Don't tease. Fuck me in the ass. Do it. Please..."

Those few simple, begging words are the green light the guy has been waiting for. A cue to fully penetrate her rear, spreading it open with a searing, heavy thrust. It doesn't matter that it's his first time—Yuna loves to fuck. She loves it in any position, anywhere, in any circumstance. Yuna was made to be fucked and tonight is no exception, that is a fact.

So the feeling of his heavy prick ramming her open, and the sweet, familiar burn that comes after sends Yuna into a total blissed-out state. Even though this is what Yuna was begging for, the thrusts are slow and inexperienced—her new living dildo seemingly afraid to hurt his favorite idol.

"Don't be gentle! Fuck me hard, deeper...please, please! Wreck my asshole!"

Those words are enough. They spur the young man into action, and instead of taking it nice and slow, Yuna feels her whole ass shuddering at the rapid pace her lover is now setting. It hurt. Oh God did it fucking hurt.

The kind of pain that leaves her feeling filled with the greatest pleasure. The kind of pain that reminds her that she's alive—not some brainless idol robot with an image to protect. Yuna is a woman with sexual needs and she's not afraid to admit them.

"Faster, don't stop. More, oh God yes!!" Yuna is spouting out all the right things and it's certainly having an effect. "Fuck me!" Her hands grope her perky ass cheeks, trying their hardest to keep them spread open for the fuckfest raging on in the depths of her backdoor.

Her insides felt great to her new partner, especially as he gets more adventurous and drives her over the edge of euphoria with a thrust here, a squeeze there. His hands are gripping her hips, driving his rock hard length further into her cavern.

It must have been such a fucking miserable sight. The third guy in the room ignored and forgotten, sporting a massive erection whilst sitting on the edge of a King sized bed. Yuna didn't even notice it, nor did the guy currently drilling her ass. But she definitely notices it when he lifts her head and presses his tip against her slightly parted lips. The action catches her off guard, almost. It's just a quick glance and a lust filled smirk, but the quick understanding between them has her open her mouth to swallow the intruding piece of flesh.

"You want me to suck your cock while I'm getting fucked in the ass?! What a joke!"

The man looks dejected. That is until Yuna licks her lips and flashes a coy smile. She shakes her head, waves of dark hair falling around her cheeks and onto her back.

"I'm not gonna suck it. But you can fuck my face. Spit roast me. Make me choke me on your cock, choke me as his big, hard dick fills my little asshole."

Yuna opens her mouth, her tongue laid flat and waiting to be invaded. There's an overwhelming desire to be filled from both ends, a carnal hunger. If that's what it takes for her to receive this much pleasure, then so be it. She just wants her holes stuffed, fucked hard until they're so worn, so well used that her mind blanks into total ecstasy.

Yuna sucks and moans and mewls as he's driving his cock down her throat. Any cries of pleasure from being torn apart from behind gets muffled and lost under the garbled and sloppy sounds of the face-fucking.

She takes his cock hungrily into her mouth, bobbing back and forth, not even worrying about the gagging sensations or the burning in her throat, or the spit dripping from her mouth, nor even her eyes beginning to water.

The taste, the scent—the full sensory overload from receiving both a full frontal assault on her gag reflex and a rump fuck all at once is driving her crazy. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, and everytime she shakes her ass to guide his cock deep inside, her clit brushes against the silk-soft sheets and tenses something tight and coils deep within her core.

It builds, tighter, hotter—and the wetness trickling out of her needy, untouched cunt only aids the thrusts from his eager tool.

Her whole body shakes and trembles. A total body orgasm as she's used and abused by two strangers, faceless tools for her sexual pleasure. They take her, use her, violate and violate, spanking and penetrating wherever they pleased.

And through it all she takes it with grace, glee, and happiness. The pain mixed in with the pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Every time another palm cracks against her reddening cheeks, every time that she's choked and pounded harder, deeper, it leaves her begging for more. Every thrust from either end sends another surge of the hottest, fiercest tingling through her veins. Yuna's completely submerged into the moment, so lost within it. A cocktail of sheer masochism and perverted need to be nothing but an object for her boys' enjoyment.

Then it happens, with another hard thrust into her slutty backdoor, everything snaps—and Yuna screams into a prolonged, euphoric moan. She cums, and she cums hard. Her second one in such a short space of time. It's so intense—so overwhelming.

It takes a whole minute before the world starts to spin again, the rush and adrenaline is almost too much, the double penetration pushing the boundaries and making Yuna realize how she could die right here, right now, and still not care. She almost forgets she's an idol for a moment, the label seeming so alien and irrelevant as the rest of her facade disintegrates along with her mind and body, dissolving under a sea of pleasure. Slowly fading as her partner finally bursts with an eruption of hot, thick, cum, coating her insides, filling her ass until it can hold no more and starts leaking out onto her skin and the plushy fabric of the covers.

The constant moans of joy must have been too much for the man occupying her throat. Cuz shortly after her ass is stuffed full, so is her mouth, spurt after spurt, sending Yuna straight into an orgasmic daze.

It's incredible—such a heavenly, amazing, thrilling and powerful feeling of a double load pumped into both of her holes.

She swaps from feeling like an object, a fuck toy, something to be used and abused, to just Yuna. Yuna who craves pleasure, needs love, and wants a feeling of validation that she's doing her very best to fill up with constant sexual trysts and promiscuous nights. It doesn't work though, because she can never truly be satisfied. No man, no orgy, no gangbang has ever been enough, never even been close enough. But when it's all over, these times, these moments are what Yuna lives and breathes for.

There's four bodies on the bed, laid out and completely wrecked—Yuna, the man with the enormous cock that spread her anal walls, the man that got the handjob of a lifetime from none other than Yuna herself, and the forgotten dude who eventually got to fuck her throat. Yuna can barely see or talk after being ravaged, but even still she's smiling like the cat that got the cream—because in essence, she had three extra large creamy loads.

It's not enough, no amount of cock could ever satisfy Yuna, but this is good enough for tonight. Tomorrow brings another night. Another night to find a nice gentleman to stuff her pussy that was left unfulfilled, left on the verge, twitching and ready to burst. But tomorrow is a worry for the future—now is the time for rest and relaxation, for recovery.

[kay-jaye]

bit on the side?

bit on the side?

crowley doesn’t know what the fuck that even means. ok, yes, he’s familiar with the deluge of terms humans have concocted to define the complexity of their relations to each other.

side piece. sneaky link. friends with benefits. fuck buddies. situationship.

crowley knows what it means. he does. but when nina speaks the phrase to him, crowley can’t seem to recognize a single language, alive or otherwise dead, in which the words she says make sense. he briefly wonders if this is his version of aziraphale’s french.

because she’s talking about aziraphale.

aziraphale, the angel. the angel who likes his tea without sugar, but his wine with company. the angel who claims to have a distaste for “bebop,” yet crowley has caught him mouthing the words to queen’s “good old-fashioned lover boy” more than once in the bentley. the angel (bastard) who enjoys subjecting crowley to his magic act antics that under no circumstances would crowley ever admit to finding amusing or, satan forbid, endearing. the angel who popped into paris during the reign of terror because he got peckish for crepes, and even the threat of guillotine in that damp bastille cell could not deter him from baked goods in the end. the angel who still insists on dragging crowley to see productions of shakespeare, despite both being present for the original opening nights of almost every play the man wrote. the angel who is what heaven is supposed to be incarnate—pure and kind and too good for his own good, really.

and crowley is a demon.

he doesn’t think any of the typical labels apply. they’re not human, after all; it couldn’t be that simple. crowley can’t pinpoint exactly when it started or when it changed. 6,000 years is a long history to comb through. it was more than the acquiescence of two immortal beings to the familiarity of each other in a world full of temporary creations. it was more than a bloody arrangement at this point. crowley doesn’t know how it can be more than whatever it means to inhabit the other’s body and walk right into fatal danger, but they are. he’s inclined to cut his losses and say he knew—because deep down, he did know—he’s been fucked since eden and the damn wall and the damn rain he can’t help but associate with revelation.

other people’s love lives, nina had said. love lives. she’s projecting, crowley knows that. whatever’s going on with her and…lydia? linda? they say love makes you blind, but crowley would argue you see plenty of things. every passing glance between sips of champagne; every smile at the crisp sarcasm rolling off a forked tongue; every brush of fingers over the exchange of a briefcase full of books, the shaky grip on a tartan thermos, the drunken grab for another glass of wine across the table. silly things. things that aren’t there. for all the times aziraphale has implored him to read more, crowley swallows the urge to say he already reads into things more than he should.

he’s imagined it before; what it would be like to have more. a fair share of people have made assumptions about them in the past, though he’s not sure whether aziraphale has picked up on it, but that’s not why crowley suddenly feels as though armageddon is upon them once again. never has someone alluded to anything as…intimate as “hooking up.” crowley can brush away the implication that they’re together, but something screeches to a burning halt the moment nina insinuates what crowley’s only ever allowed himself to think about when he’s laudanum-level drunk and lonely because he has a greater chance of not remembering in the morning.

he remembers though. that’s usually when the guilt kicks in, when he’s hungover because he forgot to miracle the alcohol out of his system before passing out, and the headache pulses with the constant reminder that aziraphale is pure, pure, PURE. nothing he imagines on those nights is pure.

what gave him away? and if nina can see it, can aziraphale?

[ecoamerica]

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[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Pyramid Headcanons

Warnings: Possessive Behaviour, Unhealthy Behaviour, Pyramid also exists in the version of Silent Hill before the Church Bell Rings, Mention of Physical Attack on Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Possessive ahh monster man.

Keeps you in a safe, isolated location far from the epicentre of the town so that the only monster you’re at risk of is him.

Scary dog privileges :>

Does anything and everything you ask him to, no matter how trivial the task. Unless you ask him to let you go outside.

Even if the other creatures aren’t wandering around and prowling the streets at that moment, he refuses to let you out.

Unless you give him the puppy dog eyes, which, to his absolute confusion, he found himself unable to resist.

But only once.

You used Pyramid’s weakness for cuteness against him and, when he heard a sound in the distance – the all-too familiar ringing of church bells – and turned to face the origin, you took your chance to escape.

You knew the monsters would come as the world around you peeled, revealing a hellish, rust-ridden, infested reality which, in your terror-stricken state, you didn’t think you’d be around long enough to be at risk of.

Of course, you were cornered.

Of course, just as you were about to become a commemorative name and face on a t-shirt at the hands of a monstrosity, Pyramid Head stepped in and wiped that jittering, straight-jacketed bastard off every map there was, physical and spectral.

Much like the very day he met you. Took you (for what purpose, you still do not know).

He’s never let you out of his sight since.

Keeps you by his side when he’s on a supply run since he can’t trust you to remain in the safety of whatever building he’s fortified.

You might not know it, given his involuntarily stoicism, but Pyramid Head is constantly watching you.

Sure, you may get the feeling you’re being watched, but in a town like Silent Hill, that’s practically a birthright.

And besides, Pyramid doesn’t have any eyes…you think ? So how can he possibly be watching you ?

If you try to chance your arm and run away, he uses his knife as a deterrent.

Slams it down right where you’d be if you had been a second quicker.

He’d never hit you. Not intentionally.

His strength and eternity of wielding the blade makes it as easy to control it as if it were his arm, or an extra limb.

But you don’t need to know that.

He’s lowkey a sucker for physical contact btw.

Once, he found you standing closer to him than usual when the day grew particularly cold.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing at first until you flat-out muttered about “How frigid” it was.

Clouds seemed to form before your face, a human anomaly Pyramid hadn't witnessed this close before. If ever.

This man has no clue how to help you, so he just kind of watched as you gave him a wide-eyed look and, quivering, approaching him as if he were a feral dog (why did you look so scared of him…?), leaned against his side.

He shifted, jumped, stepped back.

What was this feeling ?

His heart spiked, his skin prickled.

Alarmed, you sprang back, and he couldn’t articulate the response to tell you to stay, come back, I’m sorry.

When the two of you finally resumed your journey to nowhere, he walked a little closer to you, inching nearer every few minutes until his hand brushed your side.

And you didn’t pull away :> !

Eventually, when you grew tired, you settled in a decrepit little room that, much like the rest of the town, looked as if it would fall apart if you so much as gave it a mean look.

In a rare act of humanity, Pyramid sat beside you.

And he damn near jumped out of his skin (again) when, unprovoked, you leaned against him.

He made sure not to spook you. Not again.

He couldn’t handle that wounded stare you’d given him earlier. It made him feel…weak. Vulnerable. Human.

And he did not enjoy it.

Well, that's what he thought at first. Before the warmth of something unidentifiable settled in his chest.

From then on, he started taking you out during the colder hours of the day just for the chance to have your skin brush against his.

And each time, that feeling, that tightness in his chest, would spark, set him alight with a fluttering sensation he'd never known before he found you.

Until you got sick. Then he toned it down a little.

But only because he couldn’t enjoy his solitary walks to where he knew medicine lay, too concerned with wondering why you were jerking, and why you sounded like you were roaring whenever you opened your mouth and your eyes squeezed shut, or why liquid would pour out of your nose.

Bless him, he doesn’t know what a cold – or sickness – is. But he does know that, when you lay on top of him and basically used him as your bed, curling up on his chest, he thought he’d seen light.

Real light.

Has resisted the urge to try and make you ill again just for that purpose.

Luckily, your random acts of affection – hand holding (or finger holding, since your entire hand could wrap around one of his fingers),  nuzzling, leaning on him, saying “Thank you” whenever he returned with the supplies – keeps his unhealthy tendencies at bay.

Well, most of them at least.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[meowhara]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : abuse, mistreatment, usage of bad languages, death, kidnapping

synopsis : In a world where hybrids are becoming a common thing. Scientists sells their experiments for a very high price in auctions, making it possible for anyone with such kind of money to own a hybrid or even more

author's note : OMG! this will be my very first fanfic ever. I hope y'all enjoy this little fanfic I made in such a very short time. I'm so so sorry if there's anything wrong with my grammars or maybe you got confused by how I write things in general. English isn't my first language :)

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Experimenting with human beings are normal by now all around the world, making hybrids one of the most expensive and valuable assets. They're usually sold with a very high price in auctions, anyone who's able to lay a hand on those hybrids must be some very crazy rich and lucky people.

You're those kind of fine breed, sold for an unbelievably high price. But sadly luck wasn't on your side due to how irresponsible your new owner is. He never took care of you like how people should took care of hybrids. He abandoned you, feeding you poorly, using you only for your small and fragile body. Treating you like an animal and make you do his daily chores such as cooking, cleaning, and even doing his laundry. But you never complain, there's nothing you can do and nowhere to escape.

You don't even know how the hell he was able to purchase you from the auction since he doesn't even look like a wealthy man at all. Who's job is only to sell and purchase drugs from here and there then spend shit ton of money for women and other useless things. He woke up late at the day just to hurt you then leave and came back late at night. Sometimes he didn't even bother to come back home, leaving you hungry and lonely inside his small and packed house in the middle of nowhere.

For the past moths he has been stealing drugs from Mafia!Miguel. Miguel tried to track him down for months without any avail and lost him every single time. After learning your owner's pattern for months, he's finally able to caught him off guard.

But the bastard ran back home and hide just before Miguel catch him. Your owner ran back home and locked the doors, telling you to shut the fuck up if anyone come over to look for him and to not tell his whereabouts.

Miguel is one step ahead this time and he's able to track your owner's house. He then banged on the door which made you jumped in surprise. "Open the damn door, you bastard! I know you're inside." He shouted as he kept banging on the door with his men following and standing by behind him, guns in their hands.

Innocently, you walk over the door and open the door slightly ajar and peeked outside just to met his eyes. Miguel was shocked when his eyes met with your big vulnerable eyes and fluffy bunny ears, looking almost as if you're pleading with a small pout on your face. "Yes?" You said shyly with shaky voice. Miguel looks back at his men in confusion then look back at you. "Hello, little one. Is there anyone inside?" He asked, trying to be less intimidating and as friendly as possible in order not to scare you. You hesitated to answer but you shook your head anyway, since it's seems like the only safe answer to give. He examines your beautiful and small figure from head to toe just to find bruises everywhere then to your dirty clothes that you're wearing. You look up at him with tired eyes and flat expression, making you look like a broken doll.

Miguel is not buying your obvious lie. "Are you sure? You look... Tired. Are you okay?" He asked again. You just nod and rush to close the door but Miguel stopped you from doing so. He grabbed on the door and push it back open, making you stumbling back from the force. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. But I need to take a look inside, okay?" He gave signals to his men to search the house for your owner.

He didn't expect you to panic and starts shouting at him "No! Please! Master will get mad." You said as your eyes starts to well in tears, "He'll hit me and lock me up in the basement again..." You said while sobbing and pulling on his sleeve. Miguel can feel his heart breaking into pieces from how adorably you cried in front of him. As he wanted to hug you and calm you down, his men came back and drags your owner with them. He got a black eye on his right eye due to a hard blow given by Miguel's men right on his face when he tried to run away. They throw him on the floor to force him to get on his knees in front of Miguel.

When your eyes met his you ran towards your master in worry. "Master! Are you okay?" You got on your knees to check on him, even if he's a very cruel and irresponsible master you can't help but feel worried of him getting hurt. But instead of getting any answer back from him, he gave you a very hard and strong punch on the face. You stumbled back in shock and whimpers in pain as you cover your face with your palms from the fear and pain. "You useless bitch! I told you not to let them in!" As he's about to hit you again, Miguel stepped forward to protect you and kick that bastard's stomach with full force in anger. He still couldn't believe that a little angle like you would care so much about a devil like him.

He groans in pain from Miguel's kick and Miguel turned to look at you as you bleed from your nose and cry on the floor. Your owner look up at Miguel then at you "Oh I see what this is all about now. You like her don't you? Fine then, take her away as a compensation. She is a very fine and expensive hybrid." He said with a low chuckle as he gave you a dirty look. "Use her as a cock sleeve or just do anything you like at her, let all of your anger out at her as if she's a punching bag. You won't ever hear a peep out of her mouth, she's well trained for that." Miguel can feel himself boiling in anger but his eyes won't leave your figure, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of a pretty thing like you used and abused by someone like him are just too much for him to even imagine.

Yes, he is indeed a cruel mafia leader. He killed and will kill anyone who got in his way without any remorse or hesitation and punish those who got on his nerves. But seeing how a pure little thing like you getting such a horrible treatment without you deserving any of it, made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He got too deep into his thought as he pull a gun out from his pocket without realizing and thinking it through then shot your owner right at his face as you watch the scene in front of you in horror.

The bastard died instantly, his body made a loud thud noise when it hit the floor and blood starts to stain the carpet underneath. Your eyes widened as tears streams down your cheek. Miguel then turned and walks towards you slowly but you stood up and ran away as fast as you can towards your master's bedroom and lock yourself while crying. His men look at Miguel, waiting for his next order. "I'll talk to her." He said with a loud sigh.

He starts knocking at the door, "Little one, please open the door. I won't hurt you I promise." You starts to panic "No go away! Leave me alone! You just killed my master!" You shouted back. Deep down you know that you should be glad that Miguel had killed your master but that makes you feel powerless, knowing that Miguel is capable of hurting anyone let alone killing them.

"I have to okay? He got on my nerves and worse, he hurt you." He spoke again from the other side of the door. "You know nothing about me!" Tears starts to fall even faster from your eyes as the image of your master's dead body kept playing in your head. "Just open this door so I don't need to force it open myself." He said, starting to get frustrated by your behavior.

You ignores him and sat down in the corner of the room, hoping that he'll just go away and leave you alone. He kept knocking at the door but you refused to open it for him. "Fine you won't open this door? I'll have to force it open then." He said before he starts banging harder and harder on the door, cracking it with each of his forcefull movements against the door.

You know very well from how massive he looks that he'll break down the door easily if he wants to. You starts glancing around the room to look for something to protect yourself just incase if Miguel is trying to hurt you. You've been in this room a thousand time when your master forced you to sleep with him but you're never allowed to open his closet or drawers even when you're told to clean his room for him.

Opening the nearest drawer, you starts rummaging to find something sharp to protect yourself. To your surprise you can feel your hand brushing against a hard and cold metal. You never knew your master hid a small gun in his bedroom this whole time but now you're glad he did. Just as you get your hand on the gun the door bursts open and you yelped in surprise. You then points the gun at Miguel "Don't come any closer! Or I'll— I'll shoot you." You said hesitantly.

Miguel look at the gun in your hand with a expressionless face then walks towards you. "I— I said go away!" A step closer from Miguel means a step back from you. But he kept walking closer and ignoring the fact that you have a gun in your hands. Your back hit the wall, making it impossible for you to take another step back from him. He grabbed your hands and points the gun directly at his chest to challenge you. "Go on. Shoot me." He said menacingly. A shiver went down your spine as your hands clenches around the gun and hesitation floods your mind. You never hurt anyone before, how on earth are you going to shoot him?

Your eyes look up at him still with tears on display and your bunny ears tensed then pinned flat back behind you head in fear. Hands trembling badly as you pressed the gun deeper into his chest, not knowing what to do. "That's what I thought." He said before quickly ripped the gun from your hand easily then threw it away to the other side of the room.

You tried to run but he grabbed you wrist and threw you on the floor. "Stop making this harder on yourself." He said before crouching down to meet your eyes. "Please don't hurt me..." You begged while sobbing, hoping that he'll pity you. He just look at your face while caressing your cheek with his massive thumb. Making your face seems so much smaller compared to his hand. "To have such a pretty thing in front of me for free. How lucky of me." He continues to caress your face and admiring your beauty with the feeling of wanting to own you all to himself. Having you safe by his side in his mansion and to have you sleep by his side at night.

But his fantasy must be interrupted by his duty as a mafia leader. "Boss, it's Lyla." One of his men interrupted. "Tell her I'll be there in 10 minutes." He said with so much authority in his voice. "What about her?" His other man looked over at your vulnerable state. Your eyes are focused on Miguel, anticipating his next move. He cussed to himself and took out a syringe from his pocket. "W— what's that for?" You asked nervously. "This? Oh I bring these all the time incase if I need to take a pretty thing like you home." Miguel then cupped you face with one of his free hand and move your face to the side so he could inject your neck easier.

Your hand grabbed his hand, the one that's cupping your cheek. "I don't want this. Please just let me go." He ignores your plea and kissed your cheek softly. "Don't worry little thing, this will only hurt a little okay? Just obey and you'll be just fine." You shook your head but he injected you right away with the syringe. "Good girl." Your body starts to feel numb right away as tears continue to stream down your face. You rest your head against his chest for support. "Shhh that's it, just fall asleep for me like a good girl you are." He pulls you into a hug and starts caressing your hair this time. Your vision starts to blur as darkness starts to invade. Soon you're limp against his chest, breathing softly and peacefully.

He smiled and kissed your forehead before carrying you in his arms in a bridal style. "Let's get going, we don't want the cops to be here anytime soon." He said as he rushed towards his car with you in his arms and his men following behind him. He looked down at your unconscious form in his arms, "Sleep tight, little one."

[paper-mario-wiki]

What was one of your favorite experiences when living in japan? Would you ever go back to visit or live there again? How did you go about moving there in the first place, were you part of a program or get accepted to a university there? (just curious. I think it's interesting to learn about other cultures but 10+ years on tumblr has rotted my brain a little to make me worry about crossing a line into like... cultural appropriation somehow even just by asking? When you lived there i imagine it was really lax and people were happy to share their culture, right?)

Visiting a small primary school up in the mountains and sitting with the kids, as well as other members of my class who came from all over the world, and explaining what we learned in school about World War II. Hearing how the narrative shifted when taught by different countries curriculum was a very enlightening experience, not because of what I learned about WWII, but because of what that taught me about internationalism.

I plan on moving back to Japan in the next 5 years.

I was not in any program, my schooling stopped in highschool when I dropped out halfway through my junior year, and then 3 years later I applied to one university (Doshisha) and was accepted.

From when I was 8 to when I was 16 I wouldn't ever let myself watch anime. I was so extremely interested in Japan, and I was horrified that if I ever watched anime and anyone found out they'd reduce my interest to being a weeaboo and nobody would ever take me seriously, and that thought was terrifying to me. The idea that nobody would ever listen to me talk about something I loved was an isolating concept, and so I staunchly refused to watch it. And then one day, while I was down at the barn refilling a bucket of water for the horses to drink out of, a though occurred to me:

"Wait a minute. Anime is just cartoons. Why can't I watch cartoons?"

Enjoying another culture is not cultural appropriation. Cultural appropriation is taking culture that is not meant to be taken lightly and bastardizing it. Fetishization is when you put certain cultures onto pedestals.

Being fascinated in a culture means doing your best to understand and appreciate the human element of it. In the fetishization of cultures we tend to see, the humanity is sucked out of it, and that creates two things:

The product, which is the misrendered perception of the culture.

The "Other", which is the people of that culture who have been turned from humans to characters for the fetishizer to gawk at.

Please, with all of your heart, love cultures. Be fascinated with people who are dissimilar to you, or even grow more interested in your own culture! Just do your best to love the brightest parts of humanity every day.

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i read a work from your recommendation list, the "Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it." and i really enjoyed it. it has me wanting for more of scenarios where they like have to flirt for whatever reason or crowley attempting to (preferably shamelessly and obnoxiously) seduce aziraphale. thanks in advance!

Here are some fics in which Crowley seduces Aziraphale...

To Woo an Angel by AgentStannerShipper (G)

5 times Crowley tried to "seduce" Aziraphale, and 1 time he realized there was no need.

nothing else matters like us by Melacka (T)

The order came through on an otherwise dull Sunday afternoon in 2004. Crowley had just returned from a spot of low-level tempting in the south of London and was just contemplating an appropriate excuse to stop by at Aziraphale’s bookshop when the message arrived. It was pushed under the door by a courier so steeped in terror that Crowley could sense it from the other side of the flat. With some considerable annoyance, Crowley fetched the envelope and eased the note out, reading it quickly with a frown deepening on his face. Seduce the Angel Aziraphale. Failure will not be tolerated.

How I'm Imagining You by orphan_account (M)

Crowley gets up, walking slowly over to the bar. An onlooker might be struck by the stalking and languid ease with which he walks, like a lioness to her prey. His hips, so smooth and slow. And he tilts his head back, lips parted. Surveys the room and the man with covered eyes. But there is no one looking at him. Every other patron doesn’t need to look at the bar at this moment, look at the man and the prey. So, they don’t. - (Crowley has fun with a little temptation of his own)

shades of grey by IneffableStar (E)

After Aziraphale's West End debut was nearly ruined by Furfur's espionage attempt, Aziraphale gets to thinking about if Heaven may also be watching them, and decides it best that he go search for any evidence against them. Crowley will only allow Aziraphale to go on one condition: Crowley comes along. or Crowley accompanies Aziraphale on a trip upstairs, but he has entirely ulterior motives.

It's your job by falsepremise (E)

After a night sucking oysters with Aziraphale, Crowley just can’t sleep. Perhaps he should hang around in Rome a little longer... After all, tempting a certain angel is his job, isn’t it?

Gormless Seduction by munchmulch (T)

Crowley grimaces. "Nhnnnnggg, ok, alright. But, hear me out." They flick a hand dramatically. "An angel! A being who can make Holy water! Even if I can keep the whole human disguise thing up, what if they, I don't know . . . want me baptised?" Dagon stares at Crowley blankly for a second before handing them the assignment kit. "You’ll start tomorrow. The address is highlighted, if you get lost and have to call me for directions I will direct you through at least three traffic jams."

And the one you mentioned that everyone knows and loves...

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan (E)

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval.  "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."  AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

- Mod D

[demonlovingsheep]

Which brother has the highest kill count in Obey Me? How and why they kill? This is what I think:

Lucifer. He is very strict, prideful, and very powerful. He caused the most casualties in the Celestial War no doubt. In the beginning of his demon years, lower demons would purposely get in his way to challenge him. The first one who tried did not live to tell the tale. The second one follows the fate of the first one. One by one, thousands by thousands would continue to increase Lucifer’s body count to the millions until lower demons finally got the message that he is not to be messed with. As for human casualties, I doubt there is a lot since he doesn’t like the taste of human flesh. If he was summoned by a cult or something, he is going to have fun manipulating those foolish souls. After all, he is a sadist.

Beelzebub. He is Lucifer’s body guard in the Celestial Realm, a Cherub that is one of the highest in terms of rank. Due to his strength, he can easily crush his opponents. When he became a demon, all his victims became his meal during his hunger rampage. His sin took full control of his body in the beginning and most of the time he wouldn’t know what’s happening until one of his brothers stops him or he has no other food source available. He probably does the same up in the human world when summoned by a cult if they don’t offer him a big enough meal as offering, then they become the meal themselves. When MC meets him in the original timeline, he still tries to eat us and we’re not allowed to sleep or be near him without another brother’s supervision. Even the brothers were afraid one of their toes was gonna be bitten off.

Leviathan. “Keep sending your soldiers. The ocean has plenty of space before it run out of gravesites for your people.” He controls the ocean, just sends out a tsunami or two and wipes every being away and let the corpse fall to the bottom to be eaten. Even if the victim has the ability to breathe underwater, he would summon Lotan to obliterate them. He never has to get handsy to increase his kill count. He does snack on a couple of humans that've been swept into the ocean by currents.

Satan: He unleashed hell when he was born, being the embodiment of wrath itself. He was separated from Lucifer and his other brothers when they fell. Since there is no one strong enough to hold him back, he wreaked havoc on anything and everything. He set the area around him into a green fire graveyard until he was eventually found and gets chained and shoved in a locker. He gets ticked off when summoned, and if it was for a stupid reason. If they mistaken him for Lucifer, which is pretty often, no one would live to tell the tale. It took decades for them to learn that he is not that damn arrogant bastard.

Asmodeus: Personally, I was conflicted between him and Mammon, but Asmodeus can snap more easily than Mammon. Even though he is the avatar of lust, he still has standards and boundaries. Most lower demons think he is easy to manipulate. Just compliment him, take him to a motel or bar, and get him when he’s vulnerable. The thing is that Asmo knows, and he has his own wicked plan in mind. Depending on his mood, he can either toy with the other demons for such a long time that the other demon will actually develop some feelings for him, all for it to crumble in the end. Like a heartbreak, but with their hearts literally removed and in Asmodeus’s hands. Asmo will still laugh and feign innocence like he hadn’t just gone sicko lover mode. Or he just snaps and completely loses it, charming the other person to bash their own skull against a wall until they are dead. He still refuses to get his clothes or nails stained.

Mammon: He wasn’t initially greedy, but he slowly grew to be the Avatar of Greed as he is. Mammon perhaps fakes his personality, just like how Satan would cover up his wrath with a smile. After all, how would one approach to make a business if he gives off a threatening aura. Maybe centuries as a shady business demon made him lose his sense of dignity along the way, but keep in mind he still knows his title as an Avatar. He flaunts it too, it’s just that it’s very hard to push him to the point of violence. So most demons don’t take him seriously. Money makes the world go round, but it’s the quickest way for someone to seek vengeance when someone doesn’t pay back what they own. Mammon generally plays by the rules even though he himself gambles in illegal places, but he still has business standards. If someone tries to cheat him out of his winnings, they will earn themselves a one way ticket to Mammon’s blacklist, which most of the time has four or five people in the waiting list so one shouldn’t count on time to delay Mammon’s wrath. He will make them pay. No amount of begging or bribery will work, by then the only way of paying back the “debt” is with one’s soul, which is worth even more than anyone can ever imagine. Hell, perhaps he deals with selling organs on the black market too after he finishes seeking vengeance. Organs are worth a good amount of money, either for hungry cannibalistic demons looking for a demon kidney as dinner or for mad scientist demons to run experiments on. Either way, business.

Belphegor: He is too lazy to kill, that’s all I can say. If you think it’s hard to get on Mammon’s blacklist, it’s even harder to get on Belphegor’s blacklist because he just doesn’t care…unless someone messes with his dear twin, Beelzebub. There will be no more peaceful rest for that person for the rest of their short life because Belphegor will make sure that they die in agony. He will curse the person so that whenever they are about to fall asleep, they will be jolted alive by some weird electric feeling. It’s like the feeling when you trip in your sleep (Hypnic Jerk), except it’s not an angel accidentally dropping your soul when bringing you to heaven, but a demon draining your sanity to live. It’s no brainer that sleep is very important as it keeps one’s mind and body functioning. For the victims of Belphegor however, they will never sleep again. They can try but are always jolted awake whenever they are on the edge to dreamland. Until many days has gone by where the person is basically a walking zombie at this point, they pray and try to fall asleep once again expecting for the same jolt feeling, except it didn’t happen. The victims can finally sleep, but this sleep feels more…permanent.

Author’s note: I started writing this draft like a year ago, and took it out today. I forgot what im exactly writing. It’s so shifty of what it’s meant to be. Think it was kill count and why, but it gradually moved onto killing methods of each. Don’t take it too seriously 👉👈. Hope y’all enjoy.

[synodic-lupine]

Nine and Ten's arcs go hand in hand as a collectively great PTSD narrative imo. I think Ten's wishy-washiness about relationships and inability to fully open up to Rose is often characterized as plain old fear of commitment yet I see that as a progression to another presentation of PTSD. When we first meet Nine, he seems like he's halfway to planning on how to get himself killed. He meets Rose, he heals, he changes, he grows. Then he regenerates into someone with a desire to live and the seeming capacity to just be happy. At the same time, he regenerated for and because of Rose. Recovery that hinges on one person is a tricky thing. When you're with that person it can feel like there's no more work to be done, like you're totally 'fixed'. Every moment with that person feels like the best thing in the world... which makes it significantly harder to open up about anything trauma related. When you're feeling high on a person's presence why would you ever want to think about the bad things? THEN because he finally properly wants to live, The Doctor gets hit with the realization that living a full life means losing Rose in the end and it's downright intolerable to him. It makes him push and pull and act like a bastard sometimes. We get glimpses of who he is without her in the moments when she's threatened. He loses his damn mind any time she's threatened- he gets that crazed look akin to Nine in Dalek more than anything. This is also in contrast to how Nine used to react to Rose being threatened, where he used to still be able to keep it reined in. THEN... he loses her for real and he backslides majorly. We see the effects in Turn Left, that if Donna hadn't been there he would have died right after saying goodbye to Rose. He's more or less back where he started as Nine in the beginning of series one, looking for a way to die. He lives though, and has to accept that no, he's not perfectly recovered and keep on working on it. He opens up about things in ways we saw him struggle to in series 2. Though he's more callous in series 3 and 4, he seems to struggle more with relating to humans, his bastardous tendencies pop up more. He's also a freaking disaster man in series 4 with the number of times he offers or tries to give up his life for others. He DOES make recovery progress through series 3 and 4, just is slow like in real life. All of that makes JE make sense to me in that this is a man who is experiencing turbo PTSD triggering. He pushes everyone away all at once, because maybe being alone will hurt less than losing people after all. Even after all that in the end when he is dying he says he doesn't want to go. He was born into wanting to live and be happy so of course he doesn't want to go.

[rex101111]

Elden Ring, Armored Core 6, and the terror of Agency.

(spoilers for AC6)

Armored Core 6 being the first game FromSoft released after Elden Ring is actually really freaking interesting, specifically because both games tackle the topic of "Agency" from two completely different perspectives.

In Elden Ring, Agency is (mostly) mechanical, the player can, from the word go, provided they don't die, choose any direction at all and do whatever they want for as long as they want. The game has the largest amount of ending of any Souls game if we take into account all the Lord ending variants, because the player can effect the world so deeply in so many ways. You can reach the end in any number of ways and the ending you get tends to be entirely up to you, and every ending is unique to itself.

In AC6, the agency is more felt in the story. That is to say, you don't have any agency at all. 621, Raven, your player character, doesn't have any sort of autonomy whatsoever. They don't get to choose which side they want to exclusively support on Rubicon, they can't choose to express any opinion about what's going on or what people say about them, they don't even have any bodily autonomy. You're a husk of a human being that can barely manage to breath in and out without external help, your mech is a glorified wheelchair iron lung combo with guns attached, and the most agency you have is with your AC. What weapons to bring, what build to make...but even that is fleeting.

Some people have complained that some bosses are damn near impossible without a certain and specific build. While I disagree, certain builds make those bosses significantly easier, but mechanical skill tends to make up for most shortcomings if you wanna stick to something specific...but there's some truth to it.

Sometimes the game will just hold your head down in the mud and say "do this or die". And unless you want to put in a lot of practice...that's what you'll do. You'll give up what little agency you have because it suddenly became the less important factor. Now you're focused on killing the bastard holding you back and moving on. The mission is what's important.

There are several times in your first playthrough where you get to "choose" which mission you wanna do, the other option vanishing until you do a new game+. One mission really deep into the playthrough, a few missions before the end, gives you the option of choosing which of the game long factions you wanna support. In any other game, this would be story shifting. It would be world altering. Deciding which faction gets the upper hand in a war...and it's an illusion.

In the briefing for eliminating the Redguns, Snail tells you plainly that if you won't do it, they'll just send Rusty in to take care of things. And if you do choose to fight the Vespers, that's exactly what happens. No matter what you did, the Redguns were doomed. The only agency you had was whether the bullet that killed them came out of your gun or someone elses.

Then, at the end of chapter 4, you get captured, and what little agency you had is utterly stripped away from you. You are in a hopeless situation, without access to the mech you put so much time and money into, or the guiding voice of your handler. You get given a hunk of junk barely held together with duct-tape and hope, and told you either use this thing to run...or die.

And then, a few missions later, the game does the cruelest thing it could have possibly done, it gives you a choice. An actual choice, a choice that will matter, a choice that you know will determine how this will all end.

Finally, finally a choice, finally some agency, all the agency in the world.

And when I got to this point? I fucking froze, I just stood there, controller in my clammy hands, and just could not for the life of me decide who to side with, who to betray, who's dreams to make true and who's to shatter. I did make my choice, eventually, because I couldn't just stop here...but I made peace with it. People died, and I expected them to, because the consequences of choice were clear to me right away.

And then...NG+. I do the opposite, I try the alternate missions. I do the other ending...and then the game plays it's most cruel trick. That big choice up there? It didn't matter either.

No matter what ending you picked first, the same people die (minus Ayre because she's special and good and we're all glad she's here), Carla, Chatty, Walter, Rusty. They all die in every ending, some by your hand, some by an enemy's, but still, still they die.

Every time you think you have agency, the game snatches it away. And the final ending just hammers it home as hard as it can. In this route, you become the slave of ALLMIND, you follow its every whim as loyally as you would have with Walter, except maybe you're doing because you saw both previous endings and you hope this time it'll be different. Maybe this time Carla and Chatty and Rusty and Walter won't die, maybe this time the ending won't leave a rotten taste in your mouth.

And then it happens again, they die anyway, again because of and in spite of your choices. And at the end...ALLMIND shows up, and demands you surrender the tiniest bit of agency you have left, your own self.

And, finally, you fight back. Finally, when there is no voice in your ear to tell you otherwise, not Walter or Ayre or Carla or ALLMIND, you make the one decision you still have the power to make.

You fight for your fucking life.

Finally, finally, some agency the game can't and won't take away. Even if all else fails, even if ideals burn and dreams die, you will always have the choice to claw your way out and FIGHT.

After a whole game three times over of not having a real choice in what happens, the taste of Agency is all the sweeter.

[im-not-corrupted]

Very well! XD Since four has been done how about...12

Now, that I can do!

----

Waking up to his lover's face is something Hob Gadling wouldn't trade the world for, truly.

It's mid-afternoon when he does. The afternoon sun bathes the room in gold through a sliver in the curtains. He hadn't closed them properly the night before, but they were...otherwise occupied, in his defence. And his lover, Morpheus, still sleeps soundly beside him.

He's cute while he sleeps. He'd deny any comment about being cute instantly, of course—he prefers Hob to call him pretty or gorgeous, and Hob is more than happy to pile those compliments high. They are true, after all, and he believes his lover should know just how highly Hob thinks of him, even after twenty years of being in a relationship, and six hundred odd years of acquaintanceship before that.

The compliments never get old, not really. Morpheus preens every time Hob says something and feeds his still-intact arrogance and pride—he never really needed to be Endless for either of those things, not really. Hob loves that about him. Loves the slightly arrogant tilt to his chin, how regally he holds himself even if there isn't a crown upon his head anymore. (If he's telling the truth, he loves everything about Morpheus. There's not a single thing about him that Hob dislikes. They've had their moments, of course. Their frustrations. But they work through it, always, even when Morpheus is half convinced their spats are the end of the world, melodramatic bastard that he is. (Hob loves that, too.))

Cute, though, is the one that pops into his mind now as he gazes at his dozing lover. His hair is a worse mess than usual, a proper bird's nest, haloing his head where it rests on his pillow. He looks relaxed, in a way he rarely ever does during his waking hours. Even without the burden of Endlessness upon his shoulders, there is still a lot in his head.

It is easier now. He has had twenty years of being human to adjust to all of its messiness. Morpheus has told him, in the quiet of night—A time of confession, he'd mused at one point, and Hob does agree that there's something about the darkness of night time that makes being seen a little bit easier—that he aches less, these days. It is still there, and he has episodes where it aches so much more than usual, but they are easier to deal with.

Hob is glad for that. Glad his lover didn't take the easier way out. He thinks about it, sometimes, about how close he came to losing him—the thought catches him in its grasp, sometimes. Brings tears to his eyes. He does not like to imagine a world without his dearest friend.

He is glad that he never had to face that, not really. Instead, he gets this—soft, golden-lit mornings on Valentine's day, in which his lover continues to sleep and Hob gets to bask in the glory of having a love like this.

He does have plans for today, and he already woke up later than he would've liked. It is that thought that leads him to brush his lips against Morpheus's cheekbone in a gentle kiss, murmuring his name softly.

His lover doesn't sleep all that deeply. He dreams sometimes. There used to be nightmares, earlier on, that woke him in the middle of the night. He still has them sometimes, but they are rare. Occasional.

It's easy to wake him. He only needs to say his lover's name a little bit louder than he did the first time before Morpheus begins to stir slightly, and Hob smiles down at him with a soft, "Good morning, love."

Morpheus blinks up at him blearily. It takes him a moment to catch his bearings, but when he does, a smile splits across his face. It's soft, loving, and Hob loves the sight like he loves that of the rising sun at dawn. "Hello, lover," he murmurs, his voice raspy, still clinging onto sleep with some degree of determination. And then he blinks, seeming to recall something, before he moves to cup Hob's face with the palm of his hand. The band of his wedding wing is cold against Hob's skin. "And. Happy Valentine's Day, if I recall correctly."

"You do," Hob replies. He turns his head slightly, presses a kiss to the inside of Morpheus's wrist. "Happy Valentine's Day to you too, my love."

Immortality is great, truly.

Hob has never regretted a moment of it, not really. There have been moments, of course—the 1600s weren't great for him, and immortality didn't quite seem worth it when he spent practically every day for eighty years tired, hungry and so terribly cold. It never got bad enough for him to consider giving up—Hob didn't know what would be bad enough to make him consider that, not really—but despair was a familiar companion those years, and it was hard to find a reason to continue waking up every morning.

It got easier, just as it always does. If immortality taught Hob Gadling one thing, it would be this: there is very little in this world that lasts forever, and bad times aren't on that list. There is too much time for everything to remain the same in a world that is ever-changing, and no amount of bad times will make that any different.

Still, there are some downfalls to immortality. These downfalls will never be enough to make him ask for death. If he can live through the 1600s and come out of that with hope, then he knows he will only ever want to live.

One of those downfalls is the lack of constancy. Hob Gadling is immortal, but the rest of the world around him...is not. The rest of the world around him has a life span that lasts however many decades, and at the end of that, Hob still lives.

He does not regret that he does, but God's wounds, it does hurt. It is terribly lonely, sometimes, to be the only person left after everything. Friendships, relationships—they can't last, and it aches.

There is one constancy, though. Morpheus. He has been there since 1389. In the grand scheme of things, that is practically the beginning of his rather long life, and though they only saw each other once every hundred years, it was enough. More than enough, really.

He could never get tired of this. Of loving Morpheus, of getting to be with him. Even after celebrating so many Valentine's days with this man, he thinks he still wouldn't get tired of it.

"I assume you have plans for today, my love," Morpheus prompts.

"Mhm, I do." Despite his words, though, he allows himself to lay back down next to his lover, to pull him close. "But we can lay here a little longer. I'd like to hold you for a bit."

His lover nuzzles closer, letting out a soft, pleased noise. "I wouldn't dare complain about that," he agrees.

Hob places a gentle kiss upon his forehead. Yes, he will never tire of this, no matter how many times they get to do this during their immortal lives.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Children's media can absolutely and does radicalize kids when written correctly,it's just that shitty bigoted adults in fandoms deliberately misenterpret their messages and trick them into believing they're canon and that's how we got here.Bleach had Ichigo be a goth punk dude who's a fantastic older brother and choose his female love interest because she's his best friend and he finds her weirdgirlness to be enchanting which is good rep for us because being punk is about nonconformity and so is the fact that he never joined the military system his species was largely a part of because he didn't give two shits about them but over half the fandom is convinced the mangaka is a 'sellout' and 'pandering' for not making him essentially a paranormal cop for the sake of pairing him up with the fem mc that he has a familial and queerplatonic relathionship with as confirmed by the aformentioned mangaka

Pjo had Percy hate the gods as much as Luke does and act on it too but directly TO them instead of grooming younger halfbloods to work for him as soldiers and in fact he basically adopted every one of them he came across as his siblings and pseudo-kids and this is explicitly framed as why he's a hero and Luke's evil but you see nonstop erasure of his anti-corruption and anti-authority mentality and direct action despite being his core character traits to make him more palpable as an 'average fantasy protagonist' when the point of him is that he's not normal in any way

The Owl House had 3/5 of it's mcs be poc with the two white ones being an autistic and ocd lesbian and the other a disabled boy with zero conventionally physical traits that're never made out to be ugly and the protag is an inmigrant afrolatina girl while the big villain is a puritan colonizer and every single ship on the show is queer including the m/f one and the token white boy has almost all the important characters to his arc being black and the only one who isn't is a fat asian girl who's also disabled but the HUGE amount of positive rep in the show is deliberately taken out of context for bad faith critisism by a bunch of 20/30/even 40 year olds who've never written actual good stories themselves and this includes them adoring and gushing over the colonizer guy while dismissing the poc and women in the cast as irrelevant

Across the Spiderverse had an EXTREMELY black in every way character literally named SpiderPUNK who makes his beliefs clear in every single one of his lines and isn't all talk for a single second but he's reduced down to 'annoying edgy older brother figure' and made to listen to Taylor Swift and go to Hot Topic and called 'obviously a skater boy' and every other poser punk trope in the books

Atla had Aang and Katara be a gnc boy of a lesser known type of asian race and Katara a brownskin native girl that reclaims femininity for herself with their character drives being to save the world with Zuko's arc hammering it in again and again that while he always had good in him,he WAS evil,he DOES have a lot of bad traits and that made him do a lot of bad things and THAT'S why he needed a redemption arc to be a hero but Aang gets called racist for following the buddhist belief that in-universe he was sole remaining follower of that killing humans is bad,Katara gets adultified and stripped of her actual personality to make her just 'hashtag relatable teen gurl' and Zuko gets infantalized and upholded as the least problematic character in the whole show

And my last and not quite like the rest example is Harry Potter,including the spinoffs and fanon.Everything in it is neoliberal bs and the fandom just made it worse-Oh,the house that's a metaphor for fascism and white supremacy legacies?They're just misunderstood little babies and every minority-coded🥺The lower class family who canonically were Jkr's best attempt at good people that still flopped?Awful homophobic bastards😡All the female characters?Perfect slay 'You can't sit with us' girlboss,precious little baby angel who can't tie her shoes without her reverse harem's help or manipulative self-obsessed hyperfemme pick me,those are the only three categories they can ever fall in.Marauder's Era not only existing but being very,VERY popular is nothing but whiteness-What is there for you to be attached to there exactly?With the canon cast i can least see why you'd have nostalgia but M Era is literally nothing.You just CHOOSE to pick a franchise that's violently bigoted towards basically everyone and who's creator actively influences and helps caused that hurt irl oppressed groups instead of making ocs since you're already building them from scratch anyway

It's not the fault of actual good creators and especially not kids in fandom that grown ass bootlickers couldn't accept that their precious 'escapist comfort media' isn't apolitical at all instead of absorving it's messages like they should have since they have no care for other people despite insisting how kind and unproblematic they are

[daughter-of-prospero]

Jonah Rant

Someone on Youtube reminded me that I rage-typed an essay-length tirade about Jonah Magnus and his status as a certified Bastard Man right after the finale. They asked if there was a chance they could see it, which was a good question because did I even still have it? Turns out: Yes! It’s evidently been chilling in Onedrive for ~2 years. So for those who wish, my thoughts regarding that awful little man are below.

Spoilers for The Magnus Archives.

I went into the finale fully ready to not hear from Jonah again. I thought ‘oh, cosmic horror, as important as he thinks he is, he’s inconsequential and John just zaps him with eye lasers or something’. I didn’t want it per se, but I thought it was plausible.

But no. Oh no. Jonah Magnus speaks again, and he hasn’t been around for all of season 5. We heard him on a recording and we heard him chanting in the background and also all distorted in a job interview flashback, but there has been no actual uncompelled words being spoken by Jonah Magnus in real time since 159.

Yes he wrote the incantation but, rather crucially, he did not read it.

I binged TMA right as it got up to the season 4 finale. I got through season 1 in one day, and season 2 the next, and then got through three and four in the days after that. I caught up just in time for 160 to drop.

So I, foolish, naïve baby that I was, had over a year to forget what this character actually sounded like, and just how much of a slimy, insufferable fucker Jonah Magnus is. Was. Bitch.

I’ve gone into this elsewhere so I won’t belabor it but one of the reasons I’m so viscerally miffed by him is because of every human character in this podcast, he is the only one that is never shown sympathetically. I’m not counting Nikola Orsinov, or NotThems, or other manifestations of the Entities. I mean of the human, or avatar-human characters he is the least grey. Morality in this show is complex and tough to think about in my brain and one of the great ways it does this is through having really layered characters with motivations that are, at least a little, understandable. Jude Perry was a violent, sadistic lady...she was also devoted to Agnes and in some ways I think you could argue they were each other’s only links to humanity until what’s-his-name came along. Coffee shop Himbo guy. Peter Lukas is a misanthrope to the max who will send people into a nether realm if they so much as look at him wrong – which is to say, look at him at all. He was also raised to know nothing but loneliness, and pursuing it was kind of the only way he ever got some sort of approval. Which also manifested as more distance.

We get these little nuggets of what brought a villain where they are now, and we certainly don’t have to excuse them, but we have some context. We have some understanding that there is humanity in there, and that understanding makes them all the more unsettling.

Not fuckin’ Jonah.

What do we know about him? He’s a couple centuries old. Great. He found out about the powers, was drawn to the eye, and decided to start body-hopping to cheat death. He’s been doing this for ages. He tried a ritual and it failed. He took his time then, plotting and planning, and being smug, and finally arriving at a hypothesis that had a lot of credence to it. Everything fell into place, he was right, its all or nothing with the entities but the Eye rules because it opened the door (or WHATEVER).

So his big motivator is he doesn’t want to die.

And you know what, this is super understandable. We don’t know what his childhood was like (Jesus, can you imagine him in a little powder wig, climbing a tree to get a high vantage point to spy on people and get blackmail on them?), but fear of death is almost universal.

And of all the billions of people on this planet, I cannot help but notice that we are not thwarting narcissistic necromancers every fifteen minutes. Because the world would have fucking exploded a long, long time ago if we had more Jonahs in it. i.e. the people who would make aggressive selfishness a full-time occupation.

There’s a sort of cocktail of shit that makes him a memorable baddie not the least of which is that he never even attempts to justify his abhorrent actions. He’s not lying to himself, or anyone else, he’s not serving a cult, or a bunch of worms. He’s in it for himself, and if he has to stack the corpses of every living thing on the planet to reach immortality he’ll fucking do it without hesitation. Couple that with his manipulations, his merciless psychological torture, and a low, smooth voice that is always so infuriatingly composed and you have a Hell of a villain.

(I maintain that one of the reasons he’s so effective is that he enunciates so carefully. He doesn’t run words together, or mumble, he never really raises his voice, he is always in control, and everything is a flex right down to the articulation. I feel like we associate crisp, clear speech with formality, presidential addresses, or theater, things like that. Where you know what you are going to say and so the recitation is more confident. We hear this happen in statements, to a certain extent, but there’s still a lot of emotional range. For 199 episodes we never heard Jonah lose this pointed, smarmy tone. People don’t talk so formally in life, or when they’re talking on the podcast. There is something unsettling and intimidating about hearing such clear and confident speech all the time. It sounds like he knows exactly what to say in any situation. It sounds like he is utterly confident in every word that leaves his mouth. It sounds like he’s in a scene and no one else got the script but him. Because that is kinda what’s going on. At the very least, he thinks that’s what’s going on)

When he drops from wherever he’s suspended in the panopticon, he, you know, sort of makes a noise because that’s gotta be jarring. And we for once, for once, for fucking ONCE hear him even vaguely uncertain. And stupido io, I thought he was finally brought low and we might get a tantrum or something.

But no. Jonah Magnus has a lot of lost time to make up for, it’s been 20 eps since he’s been able to serenade everyone with his unique brand of horny arrogance. This motherfucker has exactly a millisecond of confusion and grogginess before “I was having the most...wonderful dream”. You can hear him edging.

And he’s kiiiiind of surprised to see John by himself with a knife, but still, so blasé, so, ‘oh, is that all?’ He’s a liiiiitle regretful to hear it’s over, but immediately heads into waxing rhapsodic about seeing a thousand lifetimes and the rapture of infinite sight and suffering and other Hellraiser shit when John speaks for all of us and tells him to shut up. Yet another reason to respect him.

And John has a lovely little catharsis where he gets to tell this orchestrator of his despair that Jonah has failed because the Things that Jonah is so devoted to will die a slow death. How long has he been waiting to say that, do you think? I mean at this point there’s nothing that could do what he’s probably feeling justice but he says it himself he gets some satisfaction from “knowing that I’ll be leaving these things that you serve trapped and starving in their own private hell.”

And all Jonah has to say is: “That we serve.” To the bitter, bitter end he is determined to just...okay I was gonna say twist the knife but that seems a bit tasteless now...determined to cause even more hurt. He cannot resist, it’s kind of all he knows. He is at the edge of a cliff and taunting the person that’s about to push him off of it.

And if you ever need a posterchild for ‘hubris’ just pull up a sound clip of Jonah Magnus. He tries to play the old ‘alright, playtime’s over,’ card, brushing the dust and what-the-fuck-ever else off his suit and manipulate John again. He has the...not even audacity, he’s looped back around from being semi-omniscient, to being so confident in that omniscience he thinks he knows everything and therefore acts way more stupidly than someone without that surety. He is enough of a dipshit to try and say to John “we both know you don’t have it in you”.

Motherfucker, what have you been doing for this entire season? What have you been doing this entire show? You have purposefully created someone who has withstood the brunt of every entity and come out more or less intact. You purposefully guided him into honing his powers, and put him in a position where he has nothing to lose. Well, Martin, but Jonah can’t do anything about that. Not anymore. Because the one person who can protect Martin is coincidentally the same person who can, will, and reeeeeally wants to Kill Jonah.

“King of a ruined world and I shall never die” my ass. King? Really? You were a placeholder, my dude. The Eye didn’t give a fuck that you were at the top of the panopticon and it didn’t give a fuck when John pulled you out of it. You said it yourself, dipshit. You might have started the archives, but John IS the archives. He is the only person more powerful than Jonah and Jonah, of all people, should know this. Especially considering you could presumably see John cutting through the domains, dishing out biblical vengeance, on a warpath for your tower.

So of course, he decides to antagonize John even more if that is even possible by telling him they both know he can’t do it.

And John fucking punches him and it’s great. Extended sounds of brutal ass whooping, please and thank you.

And then we get one of two lines that sums up Jonah Magnus for me.

“P-please John, I don’t want to die”.

This guy. Who dedicated his several lives to ruling the world and feeding on everyone else’s pain. Who has committed atrocities that numerous to count and too horrible to name. Who is being confronted by the direct target of his machinations and who, I think it’s safe to say, hates him more than anyone or anything else in existence. Has the absolute fucking nerve to go “but I’m scared :(”

When he went ‘I don’t want to die’ I actually said to literally no one because I was alone in my room “HA, Fuck you.”

John puts it a bit more eloquently. “Neither did they”. Beautiful. And then he’s gutted like the repulsive little fish he is.

The second line that sums up this insufferable megalomaniac is a little earlier. It’s casual, neither of them makes a point of it. Maybe because it’s a little redundant. “Empathy only holds you back in the end”.

I don’t want to die, and Empathy only holds you back in the end.

I mean, that’s the thesis statement of the shit-eating essay that is Jonah Magnus.

He’s so far beyond regret, or anything that isn’t 100% self-motivated he cannot perceive that perhaps John will have maybe, I don’t know, changed a bit. Gotten used to horror. Killed. He cannot fathom anything outside the tower as more than a food source. He is so used to seeing people as pawns he dies not actually understanding why John killed him. “Good luck” are his last lines.

First of all, the direction is ‘wetly’ and on the one hand I know what that means, but on the other, I cannot think of a more fitting adjective to end on with this guy.

Second of all, the ambiguity of how sincere he is or isn’t being is enraging, and so classic and I hate him, which is to say fucking excellent job of writing and acting both.

He goes to his grave thinking John’s making a power grab. He cannot conceive of any other reason for John doing what he’s doing. They’re opposite ends of the spectrum. One who can think of no one but himself, and one who will sacrifice himself because he’s thinking of everyone else. You know how matter can’t be created or destroyed? I think guilt might be the same way. And Jonah found a handy receptacle for all the guilt he doesn’t have time for and that receptacle is named Jonathan Sims head Archivist of The Magnus Institute.

What a good villain. What an infuriatingly mellifluous bitch. The thinks he’s King of the World, he thinks he’s going to get such special treatment, he thinks consequences apply to everyone but him, he thinks this is a game he can win when he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s playing.

As much as he looked at John and went “perfect, an insecure idiot”, the Web looked at him and went “perfect, a pompous ass”. He wanted to live forever, but now he’s dead. And he doesn’t even get to live on in memory. No one knew he was up there. No one remembered Elias, let alone Jonah. You think Georgie, Melanie, Rosie, and Basira are going to tell the world about him? What would be the point?

Congratulations, Jonah. You tried to ensure your immortality and ended up ensuring that you died both literally and figuratively. Before it got yeeted into another dimension The End must have had a fucking Field Day the second his heart stopped beating.

What a bastard. What an unfathomable bastard. Like he really thought this would all work out for him, that he was the most Important Thing in the world when, at best, at best he was a glorified fucking contact lens.

Ass.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Diaboy Yandere Quiz Results

So if you haven't taken my "which one of the diabolik lovers boys would go yandere for you?" quiz, you might want to do that before reading the rest of this post. If you have taken the quiz and are curious as to what the other results are like but don't want to retake said quiz 14 times, then this post is for you! Below the cut are the yandere!diaboy x reader drabbles for every diaboy + Karl that I wrote for the quiz.

Quick warning: These drabbles feature dark content including themes of imprisonment, torture, blackmail and stalking.

Combined these results have a total word count of 3.4k :') If you enjoy them, let me know which one is your favourite!

Shuu

You’re crying again. You’re not being loud about it but from where you’re currently splayed half on top of him—the heat of you warming his bones in lieu of the fireplace he refuses to light—it would be impossible for him not to notice the faint trembling of your body and the growing wet patch on his shoulder. There isn’t any point in saying much when you’re like this, which is somewhat ironic when you’re the only person he’d even consider putting the effort in for. Instead he shifts slightly, moving his arm over you so you’re more securely held against him while the other slips out one of his earbuds and places it into your ear instead. He’s not stupid, he knew what dragging you to the other side of the world—far away from everything you’d ever known—would do to you, but if he’s honest with himself he’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was your own fault, in a way, for making him care, for making the fear when he saw the way Reiji looked at you sharp enough to cut through the numbness he’d lived with for so long. Yes, it was you who’d sought him out in the first place, so no matter how miserable you might be now, you only had yourself to blame.

Reiji

The tea in your cup is poisoned. You’re sure of it, even without the faint bitterness tainting the delicate aroma, you can tell from the look in Reiji’s eyes alone—you’ve seen it often enough. The question is what concoction he’s prepared for you this time; whether he’s decided he’d rather you be numb and pliant or feverish with want. Still, you do not break your composure, remaining the image of grace as you lift the cup to your mouth. The tight corset your captor has forced upon is not nearly as constricting as the way he watches you, his own cup left ignored on the table. Months ago you’d have scoffed at the idea of someone willing drinking poisoned tea, but now you are aware the consequences if you do not will be far worse than whatever toxins he’s prepared for you. He won’t kill you, you don’t think, not when the way he looks at you can only be described as obsessive. You used to think it came from his desire to mold you into his ideal of a perfect partner, but now you’re not so sure. Sometimes, when you catch him watching you while you’re supposed to be asleep, you wonder if just maybe he simply wants you. A pity for him then, that no matter how many restraints he binds you with or drugs he pours down your throat, you will ensure your heart remains forever out of his reach.

Ayato

Blood always tastes at its best when the person being drunk from enjoys it. It’s something Ayato figured out after the old bastard let them loose in the human world, the occasional sacrificial bride being ferried in to keep them from causing enough trouble to attract unwanted attention. But no blood has ever tasted as sweet as yours when you’re pinned down beneath him, whimpering in the ecstasy of having your lifeblood drained away and mixing with his. He draws away only briefly to take note of your expression, eyes screwed up with tears of pleasure brewing at the corners. You look amazing like this, even better than you had in the cute little cheerleading outfit you’d worn to school sports games, back before he’d had his first taste of you. You’d screamed the first time, your usual bright enthusiasm falling off your features as you’d realized what he was. And yet you’d still come to your practice the very next day, a brightly coloured band-aid on your neck to hide the marks. When he’d come back for a second bite, you’d only struggled a little—enough to keep things interesting, but not so much that you could fool him into thinking you were actually trying to get away. No, you want to be here, he’s certain of it, and he’s generous enough to keep you.

Kanato

You’re alone again today. Sitting perfectly still, empty bento box in your lap, eyes shut as you listen to a soft melodic tune through your headphones. You look lovely like this, the moonlight filtering through the window painting the planes of your face a silvery hue. It's only the fact you look so peaceful—almost like one of his wax dolls—that keeps Kanato from tearing your headphones away. He will, once he's had enough of watching you like this, and he knows from your previous encounters that the wide-eyed expression you’ll make is almost as good as the one you wear now. The still healing marks from his fangs peek out from the collar of your white school shirt and the corner of his lips twist. You’ve not told any of your schoolmates of any of your encounters, he’s certain of it from how closely he’s been watching you. If anything, you’ve isolated yourself even further than you already were, only briefly exchanging pleasantries in that barely there voice of yours he’s grown so fond of. The air stirs faintly, a gentle breeze through a cracked open window, and you open your eyes. The fear is immediate as you take in his face, close enough to yours that you should have been able to feel his breath—if he had any need to breathe. He does now, to take in the scent of your terror, and it is oh so very sweet.

Laito

Laito has broken so many mortal things, he’s long since lost count. He can’t even remember what all of them looked like, but he does remember the expressions on their faces in their final moments—fervent devotion, desperation and sometimes just pure madness. You, however, he’s had for months, and yet the light has yet to fade from your eyes despite his very best efforts. Sometimes you even look at him with pity—likely due to what you’ve put together of his history from the scraps of it scattered over the manor—though those days have grown less frequently since he made your move to his room a permanent affair. Now when you look at him, it’s mostly filled with a hatred that burns brighter than any emotion he’s ever had from his other lovers. It’s intoxicating, more so than even your blood. Laito’s not sure when exactly he stopped wanting anyone else to see it—or when he stopped wanting anything else for that matter. He thinks you feel the same way, that you’d like nothing more than to see him dead, enough that it keeps the spark inside of you burning bright. You’d confessed to believing in love once in the early days and he’d laughed at you for it. Even now the memory makes him scoff, for the love you spoke of that day could never possibly compare to this.

Subaru

You get the impression you’re being watched. It’s subtle at first, a small movement at the corner of your eye that vanishes as soon as you turn towards it. A faint prickle on the back of your neck every so often when you walk through the hallway. It doesn’t take long for things to escalate, until you can no longer shake the feeling of eyes on you almost everywhere you go. You think there’s something else going on too, the underclassman who you could have sworn had a crush on you now refuses to so much as look at you and he’d gone running like the devil himself was on his tail when you’d tried to approach him. Other people around you have started behaving weirdly too, a strange hush following you wherever you go, your fellow students going out of their way to avoid jostling you when you have move classrooms between lessons. There is one constant in all of this, and you’re starting to wonder if he might somehow be responsible for it. Subaru Sakamaki, despite the prestige of his father’s name, has the air of someone who’s had a difficult life. You’d decided to make an effort to be kind to him when you’d first noticed it, not necessarily going out of your way to hunt him down, but to grant him a little more patience and understanding than you might normally. He’s currently the only person who hasn’t started acting like you’ve contracted some horrible contagious disease, but you do catch him looking at you strangely sometimes. The moment he notices and immediately turns away are the few occasions you no longer feel watched. His expression in those moments is a bit like someone caught between wanting something but feeling conflicted over whether or not they should have it. And for some reason, the thought that he may eventually make up his mind fills you with nothing but dread.

Ruki

You’re being difficult again. It’s not that Ruki had believed you were past this stage—far from it in fact—but he had thought the punishment you’d received in your last session with him might have at least served as a temporary reminder to not push his limits again so soon. He knows the wounds have yet to properly heal from the faint trace of your blood that blossoms in the air whenever you move in a way that strains the skin of your back—and yet still you insist on running your mouth. Ruki regards you coldly for a moment. Back when he’d first met you, he might have mistaken the look on your face for defiance, but now he takes note of how brightly your eyes shine, the faint tremble of your lower lip. You’re lashing out because you’re afraid, like a cornered animal that hasn’t yet learnt not to bite the hand that feeds. He closes his book and places it to the side, not missing the way you try to hide your flinch as he stands up. There need to be consequences for this type of behaviour, there’s no point in putting this much effort into your training if not, but rather feeling annoyed, Ruki finds himself almost pleased at the prospect. For as much as your insolence grinds, there’s something about the way your tough façade breaks almost as soon as he gets started—and in the way you fall apart under his hands with the sting of antiseptic that follows. You cling to him sometimes, half delirious with pain, and it’s those moments he finds he savours the most.

Kou

Kou chuckles as you cling onto his arm, still unused to the heels he’d forced you into before you left the mansion. It’s honestly pretty cute, although not as cute as the way you keep glancing around anxiously, convinced that at any moment now his fans will appear around the corner and start baying for your blood. That same fear, however, is the only reason you’re here in the first place—his demand in return for not posting staged pictures of the two of you tangled together online. You’re actually doing pretty well all things considered, you even manage to flash him a wobbling smile when he tells you about the café he’s taking you to. Kou can’t quite decide what he likes most about about your little arrangement—that you’ve gotten good enough at acting that he can almost pretend you’re on a date with him because you want to be, or that the scent of your fear in the air tells him is doesn’t really matter because he has you right in the palm of his hand. 

Yuma

Yuma’s used to people being intimidated by him. If not for his stature, and it usually is, then the way he speaks is often enough to set those around him slightly on edge. Not you though. No, the first time you meet, you look him dead in the eye without a hint of any sort of fear in your face. It’s not a judging look either, more of an assessment, that you realize he is used to being one of the biggest people in the room but that will carry no weight with you. It feels more like a challenge than anything else, and he feels the tips of one of fangs peek out from where the corner of his lip curls into a smirk. You never show fear when you look at him in any of your subsequent meetings either, even when you really should—like now, when he’s keeping your hands secured above your head with only the sheer weight of him. You're not stupid enough to put up a real fight, not when you can already feel the strain on your bones from his grip, but you are stubborn. And the defiance in your face even when you’re pinned helplessly just makes your blood taste all the sweeter for it.

Azusa

It had been an accident, the first time you’d pushed him down the stairs. You’d been in a rush, running late to one of your classes, when you’d tripped over your own feet, the hand you threw out to steady yourself slamming into the back of someone you hadn’t realized was there. All you could do was watch with a look of horror as the figure lost their balance and fell right down the otherwise abandoned stairwell. Perhaps you should have registered there was something wrong then, when instead of crying or getting angry at you or having any sort of normal response to being shoved down a set of stairs, Azusa—as you’d later come to find out his name was—had simply sat up and stared up at you like you were some kind of god. The second time you’d pushed Azusa down the stairs was less of an accident. He hadn’t left you alone after the first unfortunate incident and no amount of apologizing or promises it wouldn’t happen again were enough to get rid of him. One day, he’d managed to corner you after the ring of the final bell, standing so close you could feel an eerie coldness emanating from his body, and you felt the final threads of your patience snap. In truth, you hadn’t registered how close you were to those wretched stairs—too focused on the primitive part of your brain that screamed to get away from the strange boy—and thus, the quick short shove you gave him was enough to send him tumbling a second time. You’d stood there, frozen, as he slowly sat up, a rivulet of blood trailing down his face from where he must have knocked his head on the way down. And yet the injury was not the most appalling part of the scene. No, that right was reserved for the look of pure adoration in his eyes, directed straight at you.

Carla

You’re too kind for your own good. It’s something Carla’s become painfully aware of over the months he’s known you. At first he’d believed you were simply frightened by him, acting on his wishes to avoid his wrath as so many others had done in the past. But he’s familiar with the scent of your fear now and it is not fear you feel when you check on him after hearing the Endzeit-induced coughs from his room or when you make dishes with cured ham for him after he let slip that he was fond of it. It is a weakness, he thinks, but one he could perhaps tolerate if simply reserved for him. It is not however, anyone who crosses your path is greeted with your good nature and it eats at Carla’s insides far more than the disease rotting his blood. He is the Founder King, he should be able to have what he wants. And he will have you, all of you, so that no one else ever will.

Shin

Shin knows you like him, at least, he’s nearly certain of it. Because despite the hell he’d put you through after you first met, you’d still ended up hanging around him. The once fear-filled look on face whenever you saw him slowly becoming resigned until, at some point, your gaze had started to turn heated. For Shin’s part, you’d only been a bit of idle amusement at first, someone to terrorize whenever the frustration of his and Carla’s situation got to be too much. Eventually, however, your interactions had gone from being a way to pass the time to something he looked forward to; a wolf anticipating a meal. It was the first time he’d noticed the look of want in your eyes that he’d started to feel the same. So then why? If you want him, why does he never quite feel like he has you? His initial conclusion had been that it was something to do with Carla, that you were trying to pull one over on him to cosy up to the Founder King. But no amount of stalking from you from the shadows or checking on your scent every time he saw you had revealed that anything was going on between the two of you. If anything, you actively avoid his brother—Shin’s only ever seen you in the same room together when he himself is present. Perhaps you’re still hung up on how your relationship started, some part of you yet to forgive him for all the things he did to you. Or maybe, you’re doing it on purpose. After all, you’ve seen enough of his wolf form to know that when something runs away, there’s always an instinctive drive to chase.

Kino

Kino makes it seem like a coincidence when he runs into you outside of the local games arcade. You have no need to know he’d seen your social media post featuring a photo of a popular new café, the one opposite the shop he’d lingered in, waiting to stage this particular encounter. He’s done it a couple of times now—pulling at the strings attached to you to arrange these chance meetings. A couple of months ago he could never have imagined putting this much effort into a single human, especially one who wasn’t the Vampire Lord’s chosen Eve, but now it's turned into a game of sorts—to what degree can he entangle you in this web before you start to notice. It’s going well so far, you think him a simple classmate who’s a regular in the area—you’ve even given him your ID for a couple of the games you have on your phone. Tonight’s looking to be a lot of fun too. In just a couple of minutes, the friend you’d been hanging out with will get a call from their mother who should have just received a selection of pictures showing her precious darling skipping the cram school she paid oh so much money for. The friend will likely get called home—a shame, Kino will say, with a smile on his lips, but there’s no reason he and you can’t still have some fun before the night is over.

Karlheinz

Under any other circumstances, the scene before you would have had you swooning. A meal not out of place in a Michelin star restaurant laid out beautifully before you on top of an intricately carved antique table with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on seated at the opposite end to you, swirling a glass full of a rich, red liquid. The view out of the floor to ceiling windows is spectacular, a sky full of stars and a view of the forest and various small towns far below. Except these are not other circumstances, and the man who sits, watching you carefully as you cut into your food is none other than the Vampire King himself—and you are quite certain that it’s not wine that sits in his cup. The view is no comfort either, not when you know you are looking out over the demon world, a place that you’re sure would be quite hostile to you if not for the protection of the man keeping you here. Not that you’d gotten any real chance to see it save for the view from the castle you hadn’t left once in the months since you’d arrived here. You tell if the complete lack of any sort of guard makes you feel better or worse, on one hand at least you’re not followed everywhere, but on the other hand, the fact Karlheinz is powerful enough to keep you here without them makes the odds of escape seem slim. 

[c-schroed]

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) Or Why The Probably Most Accurate Movie Adaptation Of Dracula Still Is Not Accurate Enough

I mentioned some time ago - while salivating over the marvellous razor scene of Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula adaptation - that there is quite some stuff to unpack here. And now I found some time to unpack. So let's begin. I'll start with the good stuff, firstly the good stuff that's not in the book (i.e., the Flourishes), than the good stuff that's true to the book (the Well-Conserved). Thirdly, I'll make note of things that were, unnervingly, changed (by which I mean They Came Back Wrong), and then I'll deal with what is unfortunately left out from the book (the Missing). And finally, finally I'll rant over that one bad thing that never was in the book in the first place (a section I'll call JUST WHY?).

So. A tragedy in five acts. Here we go.

Act I - The Flourishes

The razor scene. I think I dealt with this enough by now. It's perfection and I'll die on that hill.

The music. Obviously, Bram Stoker's gothic lil masterpiece is lacking some gorgeous score. But mourn no longer, because Wojciech Kilar cooked up some dashing, pushing tune for us, fitting perfectly to this dark tale of spreading darkness and deepening madness.

Some basic knowledge about blood groups. Yeah, Stoker can't be blamed for this, but still. It's a nice addition to remind us that we do indeed live in a world where blood groups exist.

The Westenra Estate. As much as I pity that the lovely town of Whitby did not make it into the movie, I do love Lucy Westenra's house. Because I'm a sucker for hedge mazes. Simple as that.

Those glasses. Those. Fucking. Nice. Glasses.

Act II - The Well-Conserved

The plot in general. Yes, there are a lot of maddening differences, as we will see soon. But still, this movie at least makes the impression that most of the people working on it had indeed read the darn novel. Which is something that I can't say about many other Dracula adaptations I have seen.

The costumes, the sets, the atmosphere. Well done, everyone!

The Actors. The good thing about being not native in a language is that one is not very prone to dialects that seem off. And as I happen to not be a native speaker of English, I have little problems with Keanu Reeves and Winona Ryder adding some US touch to what should be very, very, v e r y British characters. I even find Reeves perfectly fitting for the oh so darn young Jonathan Harker. And the rest of the cast is marvellous, too (with the exception of Winona Ryder, see below for details). Especially Tom Waits, who is hard-wired to the name of Renfield in my brain ever since I first saw this movie. And Gary Oldman as Dracula… Well. I think I already made clear what opinion I have about that sexy bastard.

Some lucky few of lovely quotes made it over to the film. Dracula's welcome. The Fowl Bauble of Human Vanity, of course. And Qunincey almost making me faint when saying "Little girl" when I least expected it.

Act III - They Came Back Wrong

The dates. Goshdarnit, the dates! It's an epistolary novel, so why make the effort of making up completely new dates for events that already had a precise date in the novel? I just don't get it. And it unnerves me. Every. Fucking. Time.

Time in general. Watching the movie after Dracula Daily makes it feel so very, very hasty. Jonathan travels to Castle Dracula like it's no thing at all. And the first few days in Castle Dracula are condensed into one weird evening.

Dracula meeting Mina before Jonathan is back. I really, really loved the book for avoiding the most terrible tropes. And then comes this movie, and struts right into this terrible pitfall.

Mina. I'm sorry, usually I love the work of Winona Ryder, but here she was way too bland. Maybe it was because her character had quite a revamp (ha. ha.) and no one cared to tell her what new approach she should take. But whatever reason, the clever, adorable train fiend of the original did not deserve this!

Act IV - The Missing

The Voyage of the Demeter is way too short. Where is "But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship"? Where is the poor sea captain tying himself to the wheel? And where is his funeral? Oh, I really missed all that. And, I mean, I don't mind hearing Anthony Hopkins read the lines, but would it have been such an expense to at least hire an additional actor to voice the correspondent or the sea captain?

Jonathan Holding Mina By the Arm. That's really not an objectively big issue. That's just me who fell in love with JonMina after reading this chapter. And almost no one does it properly. They deserve justice!

(Thanks a ton to @smieska for capturing my mood just perfectly!)

Act V - JUST WHY?

Elisabeta. Don't get me wrong here: All of the oh so tragic Drac backstory they invented for this movie is terribly unnecessary. But in this sea of uselessness, the tragically deceased wife of Vlad Țepeș that just so happens to perfectly resemble Mina Murray is an audience-insulting island of unoriginality. I mean, yeah, I guess someone wanted to add some romance to the story of Vlad the Fucking Impaler. Because, well, nineties or so. But Mina, of all women? Why not invent some new character that can be bothered with such stuff? Why ruin an all-nice JonMina ship? I don't get the whole new backstory, and I especially don't get this aspect.

Dracula raping Lucy in his shitty werewolf form. Everything about this is wrong. And it has no relevance for the plot. Just. Blergh.

Epilogue

It's cruel to watch Francis Ford Coppola's take on Dracula right after finishing @re-dracula. I know that now. Everything is still too fresh. It's a good movie, after all, but especially because it's quite good it is frustrating to be so terribly aware of all its shortcomings. In a few weeks or so, I would recommend it, again, I guess. As long as it's still Dracula Off-Season. 7 out of 10 points.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, can I request a Female Sanji Reader with Yandere Thor, Poseidon, Hades, Qin Shi Huang, Jack, Hercules, Ares, Hermes, Buddha, Zerofuku, Beelzebub, Tesla, Hajun and Loki who’s a chef, and to everyone’s surprise, is actually a Human Fighter (No one believes this beautiful and flirty woman is a fighter… until they discover her Bounty as a pirate from her world as ‘Black Leg Y/N’)

Imagine everyone’s surprise when Reader refuses to use a Volundr, but instead uses her legs, and everyone loses their absolute MIND over reader ‘flying’ (Sky Walk), using Observation and Armament Haki, which can actually harm the gods, her Raid Suit and Diable Jambe, and Reader loudly proclaiming that she’ll never use her hands to fight as they’re only meant for cooking

Reader was going easy on her Opponent, but he just has to open his mouth and insult Brunhilde and the Valkyries Sisters, calling them ‘Harlots’, which sets Reader off and goes batshit calling God Opponent a lot of colorful names, though he did get the upper hand by trapping Reader’s legs and began to crush her, and everyone thought Reader was dead… until she revealed herself with her body bent awkwardly (Cue to both Humans and Gods screaming) as she bends her body back to place, and while she was distracted, her opponent was aiming for her neck, only for his weapon to shatter upon impact, which shocked everyone, as Reader yelled in anger “That hurt you Bastard!” (And wins her fight)

Reader wins her fight but everyone demands to know if Reader is a Demi-God or some sort of monster… only for a pink haired man named Reiji (Genderbent Reiju) comes in to explain that Reader, along with himself and their other brothers were experimented as children, and tells Reader’s tragic tale of being ‘The Failure of Germa’, but is the success of their late mother who willingly drank a special concoction to have at least one of her children normal, and was willing to sacrifice her health and life just for one of her children to live as a normal human (And Reader had to deal with her family’s abuse, until she ran away and found a new father in Zeff, who raised her to cook, fight and take care of herself)

Imagine their fury when they learn Reader was in an arranged marriage, and her Husband-to-be was planning to kill her (Yet Reader doesn’t even hate him, rather she’s still kind to him) and was even willing to save her family, that has been nothing but abusive and horrible to her (This reveals that Reader has a kind and caring heart, which is shown even more with her feeding mice and anyone who’s hungry)

They’re even more shocked that Reader is a Royal, yet is incredibly humble, kind and laid back, as she defends a chef from an angry deity who was throwing his plate of food at her face (Only for Reader to grab it and harshly scold said god for their stupidity, and apologizes to the chef for spilling the food on the floor and proceeds to eat it, and just compliments Chef for the delicious meal, which makes Chef swoon and cry) as Reader reveals she despises those who waste food and men who would harm women

Sorry if this is a lot, I love Sanji (He’s the gentleman of men)

-You were very popular around Valhalla, yes you were stunningly beautiful, and so warm and cheerful, flirting with every man hat was single, and being so warm, inviting and protective of woman, but the real secret to your popularity was your food!

-You had so many visitors to the restaurant you worked in, helping out the chef, because you enjoyed cooking so much and there were so many, humans and gods, who flocked from all over to eat your delicious cooking!

-When you walked out as a fighter for Ragnarok, jaws dropped all around as you gave a dainty twirl, waving your arms around, calling out happily to the crowd.

-Your opponent looked irritated that you were a woman, and he was quick to underestimate you, big mistake!

-You quickly had everyone’s attention, using Sky Walk to leap up high into the air, literally walking on air before you front flipped, spinning rapidly down to your opponent, “Diable Jambe!”

-Your leg seemed to illuminate with flames as you came down hard, sending your opponent’s skull into the ground below, breaking it under the force.

-When you backflipped away from him you heard many cheering for you while others were in awe of your skills.

-Zeus shouted down, “How are you so powerful?!” Heimdall then announced while your opponent was trying to stand up, “I can answer that! Before her untimely death, Y/N was a notorious pirate, Black Leg Y/N! She sailed the Seven Seas as part of one of the strongest crews ever and had one of the highest bounties in the world!!”

-The crowd was immediately in an uproar, many cheering and many yelling out in shock while your hands came to your hips, a grin on your lips.

-When your opponent was finally back on his feet, you quickly went on the attack, using a barrage of rapid kicks, easily taking care of business.

-He shouted at you as you blocked his blow with your leg, “Why aren’t you using your hands?!” you kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying back, “These hands are for cooking only, bastard!!”

-He managed to land a harsh blow on you, trapping you under a large piece of the arena ground that he ripped out, crushing you beneath it, a sharp scream leaving your lips.

-You managed to get free, barely dodging a fatal blow, your body was broken, bloody, and crooked, you heard people all over screaming before you tensed your body and you body started to contort, dislocated bones relocated, bones cracking.

-You inhaled deeply through your nose before you charged, your knee meeting his nose, “THAT HURT!!”

-Many were commenting if you were a demi-goddess, while others were concerned you were a demon, but a man with soft bubblegum pink hair spoke, “No, she’s a human, just a very strong one.”

-Attention turned to him, your older brother, Reiji, as he explained yours and his past, that you were both nobles, which stunned so many people, because you were so humble and kind, compared to other royals.

-An actual king whom you kicked in the face told the tale that he had been screaming at a young female chef and threw the plate at her, and you came to her defense, kicking him in the face before scolding him for not only wasting his food, but for attacking a woman. He quickly learned to respect women after that.

-Reiji continued, telling everyone around about your mother, who nearly killed herself to ensure that at least one of her children would not be a weapon, and that child was you, the only girl amongst 4 brothers.

-Many were outraged to hear of the cruelty you had faced, not only from your family, giving Reiji the only pass as he had been the one to help you escape, where you had found Zeff, who raised you.

-Jaws dropped as your valkyrie partner fused with you, forming a Raid Suit, and your opponent shouted, “You humans and those harlots are nothing but a bunch of cheats!!”

-The raid suit immediately fell away as you charged, your Armament Haki covering your legs as you kicked him straight back into the wall, “Respect women you bastard!!!”

-Reiji chuckled, leaning his chin on his hand, “I remember when she was like this at her wedding~” eyes turned quickly on him, as a camera had gotten onto him somehow and he was telling your tale of how your fiancé was ready to kill you on your wedding day, as well as your whole family, but you harbored no ill feelings towards him.

-Many were stunned by your kind hard, hearing that you saved your family, despite despising them all, except for Reiji, because you didn’t want them to die, but you had proved your strength to them before running back off with your crew.

-You won your fight, humanity and gods alike cheering for you, hearing what a strong woman you were, and how kind and warm hearted you were, despite your hardships as you grinned up at your big brother and he chuckled warmly down at you.

-Thor- He met you backstage as soon as you made it there and your eyes turned into hearts, “Thor~~~!!” he chuckled softly, catching you in a hug, pecking your forehead softly before he picked you up princess style, making your cheeks turn a bit red, “I knew you were going to win, Y/N.” you grinned up at him, “It was a good battle, but he made the mistake of insulting my friend!” he chuckled once more, taking you to the infirmary, relief filling him, as he was worried a few times, like when you got crushed. He was glad you were still here with him.

-Poseidon- You beamed brightly, running over to him, “Poseidon~!” he turned, seeing you still bloody and injured from your fight, and he was quick to have you in his arms, “You’re injured, idiot. I need to get you patched up.” You beamed brightly up at him, pecking his cheek which he did glance down at you for, not smiling, but you did see this face soften only slightly, “I almost attacked him when he hurt you. Nobody is allowed to hurt you.” You blushed cutely, holding your cheeks, which made him smile softly.

-Hades- He found you in the infirmary, getting x-rays of your bones that had been broken and you beamed brightly as he walked in, “My love!” he chuckled, coming over and pecked your cheek, but stayed out of the way for the examination. His scowl deepened as he saw the multitude of bandages on you, the wounds, his fury growing to see that this other god, who was lucky he was dead, had put his hands on you and caused you pain. He didn’t notice you were finished until you hugged him, his head on your chest, “Hades, let’s go get something to eat! I’;; cook for you!” he was quick to refuse, having you in his arms again, “You’re not, you’re going to rest.” You pouted lightly, but he wasn’t budging.

-Qin Shi Huang- In the infirmary, you were being patched up before you heard the rumbling of someone charging closer and closer before the door opened, revealing your love and you instantly melted, “Huang~” he was quick to have his hands on your face, inspecting the wounds and the bandages carefully, “Are you hurt? Of course, you are- what am I saying?! Is she all right? Are you all right?” you pecked his cheek after pulling him down, halting his rant but the valkyrie nurses thought it was rather funny before you had him sit next to you so you could lean your head on his shoulder, “I had no idea you were so strong!” you beamed, flexing your arm, “I’ve had lots of practice and experience!” he laughed warmly, leaning over to peck your cheek.

-Jack- He was waiting for you and your partner to arrive backstage; she grinned as she saw Jack waiting for you, rushing off to peek back behind the corner as Jack embraced you, pecking your forehead, “You had me worried there for a moment my dear. I am glad that you are back by my side.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on the tips of your toes, pecking his lips, “Of course Jack, I gave you my word I would come back!” he chuckled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear, “Yes you did, I’m sorry to have doubted you.” You weren’t bothered, not in the slightest, before he led you to his room to patch you up himself.

-Hercules- He was running towards you, “Y/N!” as you arrived backstage and you grinned, opening your arms wide, “Hercules!” he swept you up into his arm, twirling around which made you giggle warmly as you hugged him before he tilted your head up and kissed you so passionately, one of your legs popped up. You were flushed when he pulled back before he picked you up, holding you like you were made of glass, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” you apologized, but you knew he wasn’t angry, at you at least, he was more furious that you had been so badly hurt, another man putting his hands on you. You could feel the heat radiating from Hercules, but that was quickly remedied with a couple of kisses and lots of affection afterwards.

-Ares- He met you in the infirmary, his eyes wide to see you so bruised and beat up, but he relaxed as you grinned over at him, “Hang tight handsome! I need to wash off and change so I can get patched up!” he nodded and waited patiently and when you came out, you could see the furious aura surrounding him, seeing all of the wounds. He, however, couldn’t do much, as you took a seat on his lap, keeping him there as he would dare not move you, something you knew and used to your advantage and something the nurses thought was cute as you spoke with him about your fight, finding it rather fun, except for the injuries. He pecked your forehead gently, saying nothing, but you could tell he was still pouting, which was adorable!

-Hermes- As soon as you and your valkyrie said your goodbyes, hugging each other, you were in his arms, sweeping you easily off your feet. You beamed up at him, “My love!” he chuckled softly, enjoying your kisses as he was focused on getting you to the infirmary, “You were amazing out there, Y/N. Were you really a pirate?” You just laughed warmly, your arms around his neck, “I was, but I was a chef first, then I was the cook on my crew!” he was surprised to learn this, as you didn’t really talk much about your past, other than your friends and Zeff and your time as a cook. He enjoyed learning this new side about you, wanting to learn more and more, a soft smile on his face.

-Buddha- You found him lounging on your couch in your waiting room after you got bandaged up, holding your jacket and vest in your hands, leaving only your sleeveless shirt on, as you had been quite roughed up. You smiled warmly as he opened his arms, wanting cuddles and he was quick to have you wrapped in his arms as you sighed in content, pressing a soft kiss to his collar bone as he moved his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other, “I knew you were strong but…damn, that was hot!” you blushed cutely, sitting up, “You think so?” he grinned, locking his hands behind your back, “Absolutely! Seeing you kick ass like that was delicious.” You laughed at his slight tease before he pecked your forehead softly, telling you to get some rest.

-Zerofuku- The child ran for you as you made it backstage, “Y/N!” you could see he was crying as he was quick to leap into your arms, hugging you tightly, his face pressed into your chest for a moment before he pulled back, “You’re hurt!” you brushed his tears away, but gave him a warm grin, “But I’m alive! C’mon, let’s go get me patched up then we can go relax!” he cheered, holding onto your hand and actually dragged you after him to the infirmary, as he didn’t like seeing you in pain. He sat beside you, holding onto your arm like he was the one being treated, which was rather cute as you pecked his forehead softly, making him beam up at you. He was so stinking cute!

-Beelzebub- You yawned softly as you walked into your private waiting room, jacket and vest off and your shirt untucked and only barely buttoned, as you were covered in bandages. You let out a small squeak, seeing your lover sitting there, waiting for you before he was quick to come over, seeing your now bandaged wounds as you smiled warmly up at him, “Told you I’d win!” he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips, nodding, “Yes you did, and now- you’re resting until further notice!” he gave you no room to argue, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you over to the couch before sitting down, holding you in his lap. You arms were around his neck as you enjoyed his warmth, “Guess I will rest, only if you hold me.” he chuckled, his arms encircling your waist, holding you close.

-Nikola- Poor baby was nearly in tears when you made it back to him, greeting him with a bright smile, despite being bloody and bruised and he was quick to have you in his arms, sprinting to the infirmary, begging the nurses to save you. It’s not like you were dying, but you couldn’t stand seeing that poor heartbroken look on his face. You had been taking all the treatments with not even a whimper before you spoke, “Nikola, I want you to hold my hand, I’m scared~” the nurses thought it was cute that he took it so seriously, immediately sitting at your side, holding your hand and talking about his research, to distract you, unaware that you were the one distracting him!

-Hajun- The nurses were nervous under his fierce gaze, watching them patch you up. He didn’t like other’s touching you, not even other females, but he was allowing it only because they were helping you at the moment. You leaned your head on his arm, trying to get his attention on you and off of the poor nurse, but you couldn’t say anything, as you knew he was worried about you, which warmed your heart. In a rare soft moment, he brushed your hair from your face, “Does it hurt?” you smiled softly up at him, “It does, but it will heal. That’s proof that I’m alive!” he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, breathing out a bit deeply as he relaxed, you were alive, that’s all that mattered.

-Loki- Despite being the one injured, you were the one comforting him as you laid in one of the infirmary beds, his head on your lap, arms around your waist, pouting, as his shoulders were sagging, and he wasn’t talking. You didn’t like seeing your lover quiet, because he was only quiet when he was sleeping, or upset, and he wasn’t sleeping. You scratched his head gently, stroking through his hair and he nuzzled down into you a bit deeper and he froze when he felt you flinch, hitting one of the wounds that was a bit more tender. He pulled back instantly, looking scared, his eyes meeting yours and you instantly smiled, opening your arms, “I want a proper hug!” he smiled softly, saying nothing but carefully crawled forward and hugged you properly, feeling you, feeling that you were still with him.

[pawpunkao3]

My personal ranking of how hard the lords in black slap (in my opinion)

1. Blinky

We only got one NMT with him but MAN was it fucking TIGHT. Blinky has such a clear and coherent theme (watching) which gives him a degree of predictability, but it's tempered by the fact that that theme has so many different offshoots. Blinky's power manifests in spectacle, capitalist surveillance, paranoia about relationships and the resulting controlling behavior that comes from that, sexual threats, false selves, and each of those themes could have easily been a whole episode alone, but instead they were woven together so well! There's clearly so much to explore with him. Also the fact that he's based on the concept of an audience that prefers its characters interesting more than happy is. Well it could have been stupid but it WASN'T okay it WASN'T

2. Pokey

Man I'm a sucker for a hivemind. His biggest draw for me is, well, the implications. Pokey pulls off the "seems goofy, is actually horrifying" better than the other lords in black in my opinion, and not just because he was the first, but because his mere presence subverts the whole medium TGWDLM was made in, reframing ordinarily harmless scenes as horror. The loss of self is a very human fear to play on, and opens up the potential for so much delicious tragedy.

3. Wiggly

Coherent theme of greed. I like that he manifested more subtly than Pokey-- rather than taking people over, he preyed on urges they already had and redirected them to himself. (The fact that he was going to be summoned ruined that a little for me, but not terribly.) I also liked the stress that Wiggly didn't have to do a ton of work because of the fact that humans already fucked up their world. Made in America SLAPS man.

4. Nibbly

I mean, you can't go wrong with a hunger themed monster. Nibbly had a bit of the multifaceted theming Blinky did with physical hunger and a strong "hunger" or desire to win, but the fact that he was kept as a late reveal meant that couldn't be explored as much. Overall, Nibbly didn't seem to have a strong corrupting influence or even a will or desire to conquer humans-- Roman was the real villain, Nibbly just helped.

5. Tinky

What even is this guy's deal? Yes, I know that he's "the bastard of time and space" but what does that mean? Why do we only see him interacting with time and not space? His persona has some karmic aspects, since his one victim was revealed to have caused all his own problems with time travel, but it's not emphasized enough to make it a coherent theme. It seems like his main thing is being obsessed with a terrible man, which nearly every tumblrina manages without magic powers. I would still like to see him expanded on though.