#King without g Productions

[lotuseye]

KINKTOBER 2024, I DIDN'T CHANGE MY NUMBER.

don't take it out on me, i'm out of sympathy for you. maybe you should leave, before i get too mean and take it out on you ( and your best friend too! )

suguru geto & satoru gojo. it was so, so difficult to put up with satoru sometimes- especially when every 9 of the 10 words that left his mouth was lies and excuses. in a particularly rough patch where there seems to be a whose-d*ck-is-bigger contest between the two stubborn idiots, she runs into geto in the bar they frequent and decides he deserves an earful for enabling gojo to be atrocious- but a torture can come in various forms, can't it?

word   count:   6902.

genre:   one-shot, kinktober product.

characters:   suguru geto & satoru gojo & reader.

notes:   hi so this is an insane idea that i could not help but write. satoru being a bad boyfriend. suguru being an even worse friend. pr*ise. degr*dation. kind of ch*king. car s*x. pet names. mean dom!gojo. submissive leaning p*ssydrunk switch!geto. switch!reader. dont even perceive me with this one i have no clue how we got here even.

“ you are such an… such an asshole.” 

“ and your learning curve is horizontal, sweetness- i don’t recall you leavin’ me.” 

the liar, the bitch and the master manipulator, she hated every single bone in satoru’s body. 

well, except the one he was burying her to the sheets with. 

the same old unfinished story of broken promises, it is a rinse and repeat now with the vibrant colors of their relationship is diluting in the waters of exhaustion and exasperation. oh it was limitless alright, the number of times he could have let her free fall from the tallest skyscraper of tokyo and be forgiven with how he catches her right before the fall, a honeyed coo or two in her ear. no language on the face of earth is adequate when it comes to explaining the way satoru exists on the axis of the world he’s tilted, but the words detached & displaced are the first ones that come to mind. she is simply one of the many things bound to be lost in the infinity between him and the space he occupies, a hard-swallowed pill that she couldn’t still digest even when he had his veined hands splayed on the curve of her hips, his steel of a bicep pressing against her throat as the bed rhythmically creaked beneath them. 

it felt too good, and he knew it- he knew he had her when she left that airy sigh into the pillow she had been drooling in with the spot he found without effort, he knew he had her when she preened underneath him with her shoulderblades against his ribs. it’s lazy, lazier than satoru usually indulges in, his hips maintaining an angle that let him bully the spongy g-spot tucked between the snug walls with such fervor that he has her reeling with each languid thrust. his damp locks are tickling the nape of her neck, the beads of sweat collecting at the conjunction of their limbs, wetting the already messed sheets. she can hear each grunt, each breath of his, feel it vibrate in her chest. the same old tale, he does something rancid enough to piss her off and then instead of an apology he fucks her until she forgot what she was mad about in the first place, but like any trick, it has a point where the audience tires of the repetitive schemes. 

“my baby’s pissed at me, huh? would ya’ look at that. ” he coos, his mouth pressed against the junction of her jugular and her neck, his mouth wet. she has no choice but to listen, no choice but to take it- he doesn’t leave anywhere for her to escape, having her stuck beneath the mattress and his heavy figure, with her throat sitting tight and cozy in the crook of the arm he has wrapped around her neck like a shackle. her maroon nails are digging into his sinewy forearm until crescent moons shine with a painful pink color and it is not only a rightful response to the merciless pounding, but also a subconscious punishment, a silent outlet of her anger.

satoru doesn’t like that. 

the position shifts, the man atop her whining rather dramatically before his weight lifts off of her. “ naughty girl, so ungrateful.” he chastises breathlessly, and just when she thinks she’s free of the torment she can’t stop cumming from, he yanks her up by the fat of her hips, propping her up on her knees but her attempts to rise on her hands is strictly prohibited, satoru lets out a “ tch tch,” as he catches both her wrists in one large palm to cross them on the small of her back, right in the middle of the twin dimples before his empty hand grasps the nape of her neck and push her face into the sage green, satin pillowcase she had been moaning into few moments ago, burying himself to the hilt in one go simultaneously. “ this is why we can’t have nice things,” he clicks his tongue, and she can almost see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull, all educated deductions from the way he speaks through his gritted teeth. complain he might, but he cannot deny that he lives for the thrill of her, lives for the thrill of having her in his bed, the taste of cherry lipgloss stuck in the back of his throat and her laughter his favorite siren song. “ because you don’t appreciate ‘em, baby.” 

“ don’t even start-” she groans, and his hips snap harsher the next time as a silent yet effective method of shutting her up, liking her pliant and obedient as always. “ sorry, what was that?” he leans over, asking with a faux undertone of surprise in his tone. “ can’t hear you over the sound of her, babe,” he pulls out temporarily, just to bring his palm down for a hard smack on her swollen cunt, only pleased when he hears her cry out and shudder to grasp the base of his painfully hard cock and nudge it right back inside her to resume. “ wanna’ repeat that f’ me?” 

but she can’t, her vision already having painted white as she stiffens and seizes with a whimper choked on her throat, clenching around satoru impossibly as her climax pulls her right under the crashing wave, a steady ringing in her ear that deafens her briefly- she can call him every single name under the sun and he’d deserve each one of them, but she cannot deny that the bastard has a way of pushing her to the brink of feelings & sensations she didn’t know was possible. it’s what makes it all so alluring, it’s what makes her heart swell with the ease of familiar affection when he follows her almost immediately, his hips slapping against the back of her thighs faster as he falters, the feeling of wet ropes fill her to the brim a one that makes her toes curl, a nice warmth spreading through her system. 

“ why are you adamantly trying to get me to leave you?” she asks, breathless, rolling to her back- her knees hurt, and she’s definitely pulled a muscle in her neck with how strained it feels. the heel of her palm presses against the junction of her neck and shoulder, rubbing in idle motions to alleviate it a bit. she watches him collapse next to her, just as breathless, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips, snowy lashes fluttering with exhaustion, gaze heavy lidded. “ didn’t i tire you enough? ” he mutters but she doesn’t need to know him as well as she does to hear the whiny undertone. he blindly reaches through the sheets to find her warmth next to him, yank her to his chest without paying any mind to the way she yelps, and nuzzle his face against her spine. “ you talk too much, go to sleep.”

it had been a long shot, but at least she wouldn’t say that she didn’t try. “ get off of me,” she sighs, exasperated more than anything as she pushes satoru’s heavy arm to slide further away in the sheets. still drowsy & a bit lightheaded but still not relaxed or prideless enough to fall asleep next to him. “ ‘m gonna’ go take a shower.” 

oh, that gets his attention. his head slightly lifting from the sheets, he watches her go, wearing nothing but his shirt. “ can i come?”

the only response he gets is the door that slams shut on his face.

****

she hadn’t expected suguru to be home. by the time she takes a stroll to the kitchen with her damp hair tucked in a soft towel, having switched back to her own clothes to deprive satoru of the pleasure of seeing her in his own clothes, adorned in a pair of rust nike shorts and a hot pink crop top. she finds suguru by the stove, cooking something that smells like thyme with his headphones on. she would have snuck her head in to get a good sniff of the pot, but since sneaking up on someone who is handling a hot pan while wearing headphones is never a good idea, she makes her way to the fridge as intended. he notices her by the shadow that falls on the counter, pulling the headphones down to his neck. “ hey there,” he greets, simple as he spares her a single glance. he doesn’t need to look at her twice to imagine what went down, sighing before turning to his meal.

“ i can feel you judging me,” she says as she pulls the bottle of milk out before closing it shut with a sway of her hips. suguru snorts. “ i am.” 

ever the honest.

“ you don’t get to,” she comments simply as she occupies the same counter he’s cooking in. their shared apartment having memorized by now, she pushes on the side of his head slowly to avoid him hitting his forehead on the cabinet she pulls open ( thinking about it, maybe she should have let it hit him ) to get the coffee she had been desperately craving. she releases him a moment later, putting the coffee jar on the counter. like the calm before the storm. “ you’re the one who told me he was home when he was out with the bitches, if my memory isn’t failing me.” she states thoughtfully as she licks the spoon she delved into the coffee jar earlier. “ and you were the one who told me not to worry when i, in fact, should have been worrying.” 

suguru sighs, clearly discontent to be in the conversation but too bad- he wasn’t discontent when he was lying straight to her face. her gaze is keener than a knife when she turns it on him, the smile that curls on the corners of her mouth is cold enough to look cruel. “ you’re a disappointing friend, suguru.” she comments, her tone sing-song-y enough to sound eerie. too serious and unserious at the same time, like his mistake was spilling her favorite coffee on the floor or forgetting to pick up groceries on his way home. “ and you’re not one bit innocent.” 

“ don’t get me involved in your shit,” he exhales, keeping his gaze on the pan- chicken pesto & rice, hm. delicious. what a pity she felt too nauseous to take a bite. “ it’s not my responsibility to keep your deranged man in check, satoru is the way he is and you know it.” he places a large palm on top of her head but not ruffling her hair, instead bending over a bit unnecessarily to get down on eye level with her, his voice reeking of condescension. “ aren’t we a little too old to be blaming others for our bad life decisions, missy? ” she smiles at him, as sweet as a plum. “ fuck you, suguru.” 

he grins. “ oh, i’d bet you wish. ” 

***

it has been two months without satoru, two months with letting his calls go to voice mail or turning the flowers away from her doorstep. he’s using every trick in the book, from the gifts to the soft epilogues he is murmuring into the mic in the late hours of the night, hoarse and truthful but satoru’s truth as subjective as it can be- his emotions shift with the weather, and so does his intentions. his detachment applies to his ability to hold onto his promises, and the last couple of years he had not learned from his mistakes or her pleading, and she doesn’t necessarily deem herself the teacher he loves being. it’s not in her nature to be coddling a man that is not getting the message, at least not without making him regret every bit of a wrong he’s done her. 

early 2010s are playing in the club that smells like pot & cigarettes & sweat, the fog of everything & anything that’s been smoked blurring in her gaze and dimming the moving purple & pink of the lights, coating the glitter on her cheeks prettiest of technicolors. four martinis in, she’s feeling the buzz in the marrow of her bones, not drunk enough to be stumbling on her feet but drunk enough to not try to see satoru’s white head in the packed crowd. the soles of her butterfly shoes are hitting the back of her ankles, and the polyester of her cheap dress is sticking to her damp skin in ways uncomfortable enough to assure her she definitely is getting a rash the next day. still, it is not nearly as bad as the urge to check her phone every twenty minutes to see if he’s texted. he probably has, and not that she’d text him back, but still it was a reassurance of its own to know that she occupied his thoughts. it was hard, for someone like satoru, to stay focused without drifting away. she’s even surprised he seems to have object permanence altogether. 

just when her tired feet are dragging her to the bar for a refill of her empty martini glass, a similar figure draws her attention. the oversized black sweater that’s ridiculously loose on his shoulder, the fresh wolfcut, the black circle earrings and the cargo pants that also sit nonchalant on his waist and that goddamn manspread. he’s been staring at her. 

if he was here…

“ the pot and its lid, how lovely.” her smile is forced when she leans over him, to the bar, yelling inaudibly over a loud remix of lady gaga for a refill, trying to contain her suddenly restless heart in her ribs, over the prospect of satoru popping out of somewhere to tap her on the shoulder with his disgustingly saccharine smile, sticking a tongue out through his perfect teeth. her knees feel weak and the alcohol is not the only culprit. suguru chuckles, taking another sip of his own drink, neat whiskey as usual. “ he’s not here.” 

thank fucking god. she breathes, and he takes the sight in, nursing his whiskey, slowly twirling the glass with leisure movements of his wrist. “ you want me to call him?” he asks, mocking, teasing. she doesn’t give him the reaction he probably had been pulling and poking around for, instead waiting patiently with her elbows on the counter, a little bent, her midsection resting on suguru’s knee. she’s too occupied in her thoughts to notice it, but he’s not. though, it remains a silent acknowledgement. “ no,” she tells him, mouthing a thank you to the bartender before she turns to suguru eventually, her blue eyeliner having smudged around the corner of her eyes. he offers a grin. “ why, you here with someone? ” he shakes his head at the possibility of that being true, accompanied by a disapproving sound. “ don’t let him know, princess- he can dish it out but he can’t take it. such is the man, your boyfriend. ” the cynical undertone is laughable, so she does- it is swallowed by the slender glass in her hands. “ look at the one talking,” she gestures, amused. suguru shrugs, his head tipping back with the big sip to down the rest of his whiskey, adam’s apple bobbing and the chain that shines distracts her, gleaming under the now red hues. “ jus’ saying,” he shrugs. “ i know him. and you know him. don’t understand why you’re so obsessive over things you know that ain’t good for ya’.” 

well, that had been a little too real than what she expected. she blinks, her expression shifting into one of confusion and of restlessness- a question she cannot answer truly, as she herself is yet to discover the big revelation. instead, her limbs retract, the ghost of a smile playing on the corner of her mouth. “ careful, suguru.” she muses, words laced with honey but not without the sting. “ you don’t know me like that. you don’t know me at all, actually. ” how would he, when all he has seen of her was her reflection created in satoru’s image? he hasn’t known her the way satoru or even shoko did. he knew her as the girl satoru couldn’t treat right a day in his life yet the girl he simply was too entranced to move on from. 

his expression remains untouched, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth catches her eye. “ you’re here for him,” he says, without an attempt to correct her. “ you’re wearing that skimpy little dress for him. you’re drinking, laughing, dancing- for him. and he’s not even here.” it feels like a dare, the way his shoulders move, how he leans back. “ what a shame.” her ears are burning, the root of her hair red, and the flush on her cheeks is reeking of shame. she feels exposed, at the way suguru pecks at her open wounds without a care- but she asked for it, didn’t she? she stills, then leans, until both of her hands press against the cold edge of the marble counter, caging suguru in. she can smell the whiskey on his breath, can smell the cologne he wears, earthy and woody, lacking the sharp scents satoru uses. he leans back in his stool, carefully curated expression watching every single movement of hers to see what she’s after, decipher the secret message except there is no secret message- she’s angry, and she feels like a lesson has been due by yesterday. 

“ and you’re here for me,” she says eventually, cracking into an eerie smile with the dawning of the revelation. “ oh, suguru, you sneaky bastard,” she can’t help the airy chuckle that escapes her, her eyes having widened with something she’s found in the poker face he had been wearing. he is good at this but so is she. “ you’ve almost had me, gotta’ give it to ya’.” she coos, mingled with mockery in the worst way possible as her head cranes aside, withdrawing to take a good look at him. “ who knew?”

he laughs, the tormenter that he is, and it’s pretty. has it always been this pretty, or is the newfound depth to dabble in make her see him in a light she hasn’t before? “ please,” he snorts, shaking his head, asking the bartender for a refill and tossing his empty glass on the counter. he makes no moves to get out of her symbolic cage, pretty content to be sitting where he is, a knowing look painting him more annoying than he already is- but how could he not be, with the pretty girl lodged between his knees? satoru’s girl, at that. or not. that part was always confusing, even for them. “ i’m flattered, but you’re… not my type.” he finds the words he had been looking for eventually, clicking his tongue with satisfaction. “ i don’t like ‘em as whiny and loudmouthed as you.” she can’t tell if he’s joking or not, can’t tell why the room went up a hundred degrees all of a sudden. “ do me a favor and pick up the next time he calls, yeah?” he murmurs, digging around for something she assumes to be a cigarette, no longer focused on her. “ he’s been nagging like a bitch all day, ‘m tired of it. we both know you’re not going anywhere.” 

she didn’t think it was possible to despise someone as much as she did satoru, but suguru is full of surprises. even if he is not able to find that one particular vein satoru adores pressing with the soles of his pretty, expensive shoes, he finds a completely different one- condescension dripping off his mouth, that lazy stare boiling the blood in her veins. he deems her not worthy of him, whiny and loudmouthed. 

she kisses him just for that. 

it is short, it is confused- it is filled with the urge to prove something, unsure to herself or to him. he tastes like whiskey & mint and it burns the back of her throat, and for a brief moment, he parts his lips, to which she takes as an invitation to push her tongue in and lick at the roof of his mouth as her hands grasp the collar of his hoodie. 

it is short because suguru breaks it, his hands on her elbows, eyes widened and the cherry hue of her lipgloss smudged on his lower lip with the saliva that it shines with. “ ‘m not the revenge you want,” he warns, perhaps the most serious thing he’s said to her that night- but she lacks the fucks to give. “ shut the fuck up,” she says in return instead, before pushing him incessantly to return to the bittersweet taste she had been craving before it even died on her tongue. this time, suguru doesn’t reel back or stop. this time, his tentative hands slide around the small of her exposed back, pulling her flush against him as his teeth sinks into her plush lip. it’s dizzying, how he kisses the breath out of her lungs, and how it sets a dozen fireworks in her ribs. 

“ oh, fuck, i can’t- he’ll kill me,”  the sentiment returns, and she doesn’t remember hearing him so desperate in her life- doesn’t remember hearing him so out of breath and pleading, a begging more to himself than her as he rests his forehead on her temple and draws in heavy breaths like it might make him want her less. it doesn’t. satoru doesn’t plead the way he does, doesn’t look at her with the same pathetic insurmountable need in his eyes. maybe it’s what makes her bold enough to push her thigh between his knees, watching the way his jaw falls slack, slender fingers tightening on her hips as if he can’t decide if he wants to stop her or not. “ you’ve been lying to me for him long enough,” she murmurs, hot and breathless into his mouth, watching every single way his face contorts with shame and pleasure like a hawk through heavy lidded eyes. “ time to lie for me, sugu.” 

it’s how they end up in the back of her car- with her perched atop suguru’s large thighs, moaning into each other’s mouths, raven locks bunched in her incessant palm and his hands splayed out on her thighs. it’s sloppier than anything, and all she can think about is how utterly beautiful he is, with his heavy breathing he is pointless trying to regulate and the way he keeps clutching at her, ridden with guilt & lust at the same time. she doesn’t carry the same concern as he does, doesn’t care about satoru- not in the way she should, at least. it was time he stopped underestimating her. it was time he stopped believing her lack of retaliation on his bullshit was because she thought he could be a better person than he was, not because she was weak enough to stay. she only realizes her mistake now, how wrong it was of her to try to handle things the way adults did- but forfeiting grudges, by trying to forgive and communicate. he mistook her kindness. he thought her sweet, thought her all bark no bite.

but looks could be deceiving.

no clothes are coming undone, but suguru is half unraveled underneath her thighs. “ look at you,” she says in pure admiration, catching his chin between the knuckle of her index finger and her thumb, tilting his head to her liking- which is straight at her, having no choice but to see the diabolical grin that turns her into something he has never put his hands on before. something he wouldn’t know what to do with, if he had. “ whiny and loudmouthed, you said?” she quotes, and a single shift of her hips is enough to drown out any response he might have, to which he responds with a grunt of restraint and a kiss harsher than loving. “ shut up,” he kisses it on her teeth, and she has no objections to that. his presence is overwhelming. it’s unusual, the attachment that comes along- suguru is intense in a way she cannot define to be good or bad. so explore she does, tilting the corner of his jaw with a stubborn push from her nose, teeth grazing at his jugular. she can feel the way his breath hitches, feel the way he twitches. he attempts to take control of the situation by manhandling her on his lap, squeezing the fat of her hips in his palms with a grunt as he forces her into movement. the sticky material of her long drenched panties stick to her, the zipper of his pants getting caught at her clit and making her jolt with each drag. it gives him a momentary release from her evil clutches, but it is questionable how it can be considered relief when he has that drunk look on his face, jaw setting with a low grunt. “ such a fucking slut,” he whispers it against the column of her throat, freeing one hand to resume the movement by lazy & languid rolls of his hips, having her gasp on top of him, boneless on his lap. “ grinding on me because your boyfriend just can’t act right, huh? is this how you get back on him? ” 

she nods, even if she doesn’t want to, too caught up in the way he pseudo-fucks her, unhurried and devoid of any rush- like they had hours to spend in the back of her car. his pants might be deceiving her, but even the outline of him pressing against her is enough to have her mouth watering for the real deal, satoru half forgotten in suguru’s warm lap. his fingertips trail beneath the hem of her blue skirt, and they dance around the edge of her panties without ever getting to business. she squirms, desperate for a taste of something she can’t go back from, but his hold is a one of steel- “ if you want something, you’re gonna have to say it,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing hers without properly kissing her, each thrust making her jolt on his knees. she melts halfway, face contorted in pressure. “ are you this much of a headache for satoru too, or is it special f’ me?” 

that does it, her lower lip trembling as she rests against his chest, hips lazily grinding back into his to keep up with the delicious rhythm that has her seeing stars before anything. the fingers that now ghost over the damp spot of her underwear is her undoing. “ performance anxiety, sugu baby?” she lets a breathless, airy chuckle, accompanied by a sweet aw she manages to utter. “ don’t worry, i’ll guide yo-ohhhh shit,” he tucks her words back into her mouth without batting an eye, he’s good like that, of course he is. there is nothing to be questioned in his abilities to touch a girl, it seems- he doesn’t struggle as he slips underneath the wet fabric and plunges two fingers deep inside her, the sudden intrusion sending an electric jolt down her spine. for a moment, it becomes so, so hard to speak, toes curling in the pretty heels satoru has gotten them as an apology gift for one of his many fuckups. she doesn’t think suguru would like to know that. 

“ sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’?” he hums, a pleased, toothy smile tugging his mouth upwards as he takes in the sight of her squirming on his lap to handle the pressure. he brings an end to those wiggly hips by pressing the forearm that has been on her thigh even harder to pin her nice & tight. “ uh uh, don’t run away from me, now, you wanted this, remember? ” he tuts, still keeping his slow grind her swollen bud as his fingers pump leisurely in & out. “ suguru,” she shudders, gripping the car seat behind him just to be able to have some sort of anchor but even that is failing her. suguru is an asshole of his own kind, so instead of easing up on her, he tugs on the lace ribbons of her dress with his teeth, like an animal, just so he can nuzzle his nose between the valley of her breasts. he’s not as chatty as satoru, it turns out. not as hurried either- it’s not the same rush, not the same avid sense of detachment. this is not turning out the way she expected it to, not the mindless fuck she had been going after just so she could see the look on satoru’s face when she told him she fucked his best friend. 

“ mhm, i see what’s got him so hooked alright,” he reveals to himself, half mesmerized and half amused, an afterthought as he drags his tongue on the velvety edge of her dress, dipping it underneath. “ i’d be tweaking too, if i fumbled this.” the this he is talking about is not her sparkling personality, she assumes, but it has her chuckling breathlessly anyway. it’s one thing to be wanted by satoru who wants everything he can get his hands on all the time, but it is another to be wanted by suguru who seems to want nothing at all. well, except the girl he lied to the face of repeatedly. just for that she thinks of leaving him blue-balled, but all thoughts flee her mind once his teeth catches her hardened nipple and his fingers crook in that delicious way, pulsating around his fingers as the tight coil in her guts snap. 

she doesn’t realize the buildup, nearly panicking with how sudden it all crashes into her- eyes widening impossibly as she clutches onto suguru desperately as the man holds her still. “ keep cumming, keep cumming, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts with his nose pressing hard against the column of her throat, effortlessly handling the mess of limbs on his knees that is stiffening & seizing with the pressure it takes her to release it all. she thinks she’s seeing sounds, she thinks she’s hearing colors- by the time she comes back down to earth, she has half a mind on her to breathe, and only through the demanding of him who is now holding her chin in his palm: “ don’t pass out on me now, keep breathin’, keep breathin’.” 

it feels cold, when his fingers finally vacate their cozy home, but they are soon to find another- he uses the hand on her chin to pull her jaw a bit down, fingertips squishing into her cheeks to make her open up so he can stuff her mouth with the very same fingers with a dazed look in his eyes. “ polite girls clean up after themselves,” he murmurs. the tangy taste melts on her tongue, sucking on suguru’s fingers as he slowly rocks them a bit, imitating the lewd imagery of her sucking his cock. it would be a pretty sight, she thinks. to see him with his head tipped back, to rob him stark naked of any control he might have, to own him by the balls, as they say. but suguru doesn’t seem interested in the idea, as he just sighs, contently watching her suck on his fingers. she’s always thought he had pretty eyes, violet hues that have been shining with brilliance from the day she’s met him. “ i can’t be doing everything around here, can i?” the way he asks is so fucking condescending, she can’t help the way her ears burn as he pushes his hips into hers to remind her of the very painful hard on that’s been straining against her thigh now. “ ‘m not satoru, sweetheart- i don’t give out free dick. if you want it, you earn it. ” the now empty hand comes harsh against the plush fat of her ass, making her let out a muffled cry through his fingers. “ ride me like you mean it. ” 

he doesn’t have to tell her twice. 

the unbuckling of his belt and the freeing of his hard on is unceremonious, but the thrill of it is so, so heavy in her blood she thinks she’d ride this high for a good year, if she was lucky. he’s not as long as satoru, but the girth of him makes her gulp with the unsavory calculation- it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s going to be a hell of a stretch. suguru, who seems to have noticed her hesitation, grins a little. “ aw, afraid of dick, now?” he mocks, and she hates how much she really likes the genuine laugh he lets out, even when he’s bullying her. “ it doesn’t bite. go on, now. ” she wraps a hand around the base of it, her knuckles brushing against the dark happy trail as she indulges herself in a leisure stroke, watching his eyes roll back with an animalistic pleasure. all she knows is that she wants to see more of it, so when her thumb reaches the angry & leaking tip, she makes sure to apply all the pressure she can manage. “ i think the dick is afraid of me, baby. ” she teases, teeth grazing the corner of his jaw. “ you’ve been packing this the whole time? damn, maybe i got the wrong bestie.” 

suguru can’t manage a response with the way he looks like he’s on cloud nine beneath her, and she finds it sweet, the way he leans into her touch, the way he’s lost in it. having decided that she doesn’t want pleasure if it doesn’t involve hers, she aligns him with her slick entrance, letting the fat tip nudge against her folds with a shaky breath, and tilting her hips to let him sink into her without further teasing. 

the moan they let out when he’s finally inside her is in unison, but his is much whinier than hers and she finds that she revels in the sound- she’d never think him to be whiny in bed, never think him the one to release control. but here he is, holding onto her hips in the backseat of a honda civic, the living and breathing embodiment of pussy whipped. “ holy fuck,” he gasps out, his adam’s apple bobbing as his head tips back to the headrest. “ holy fuck.” 

“ you’re gonna eat your fucking words, suguru,” she confesses in his ear, in the most saccharine voice imaginable as her thighs part to dig her knees on the leather seats so she can ride him to her heart’s content, moaning every single time he bottoms out, every single time his head kisses her cervix, filling her up so nicely. all she can think about is how he deemed her unworthy of him in the bar an hour ago. “ oh, no words? the whiny girl’s pussy got your tongue, baby?” she latches onto his throat just so she can leave a pink mark of hers, just for him to see in the mirror, just for him to have to sit down in satoru and try to explain where that came from. what a scene it would be, how she would have given a kidney and a lung to see it. suguru, to the proof of her point, is too focused on not busting on the spot all her teasing is returned by radio silence except for grunts and whines. he looks so drunk, she wants to kiss him just for that, but she bites on the inside of her cheek instead, wanting him to know what real desperation was. his hands are so, so tight on her waist, and his mumbles are her favorite song. 

well, except the ringtone that disturbs the perfect rhythm she has found, an unexpected caller. 

it is coming from suguru’s pocket, to which she has no problem digging around to find. “ i’ve got you, sweetness, keep moaning like that,” she kisses his forehead just to drive her mockery home, before her eyes lock on the screen. 

gojo. 

if it wasn’t lucky. 

“ no, no, give me that back-” suguru attempts to get his hands on his phone but she is already answering before he can manage, and the first thing they hear is satoru’s voice, who never lets anybody speak first if he’s the caller: “ dude, i’ve been calling you all fucking night, ” he complains. “ where the hell have you been?” 

suguru is looking at her with pleading eyes, but seeing how that desperation erodes with a single roll of her hips is so satisfactory there is no shame in her voice as she responds: “ he’s busy, satoru babes,” she laughs, giddy. and it takes a hot minute for the white haired walking ego on the other end of the line to register her voice. “ what?... how?... what the fuck?” by now there is no fucking way he’s not hearing the sweet moans suguru is releasing, too pussy-whipped to realize the situation she put them in, too pussy-whipped to stop. “ say hi, sugu.” she plays an evil more diabolical card, shoving the mic right in the corner of suguru’s mouth, who is now scrambling for the last bits of his late composure. “ sato-oh, fuck, satoru, i can’t- i couldn’t- oh my fucking god, ‘ts so tight, ” unable to string a form of coherent sentences, she thinks she could cum from just how mouth-watering the view is. 

“ suguru, are you fucking my girl right now?” satoru is asking with a bamboozlement she has never heard in his voice before but before he can get an answer she hangs up, tossing the phone somewhere in the messy seats- not everything is about satoru, and leaving him hanging is a bigger punishment than letting him stay on the phone for the whole thing. there was no knowing with the bastard- it wouldn’t be a punishment if he turned out to be into it, after all. torture or not, suguru is hers for the moment, and there is a prized possession in such belonging, she honors it with wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking into him like there is no tomorrow. “ you feel so good,” she breaths into his ear, honest and genuine. “ you feel so fucking good, suguru. you’re so beautiful, look at you,” she slides his chin into her palm, gaze boring into his heavenly visage with an adoring look, even when he looks so utterly fucked out. “ who’s passing out on who now, hm? ” 

maybe he would have panicked at the aspect of being caught red handed, maybe he would have stopped or would have actually do something about it when satoru calls again immediately after- but all he does is to shift deeper in the seat, spread his legs wider and start fucking up into her in a rhythm so unforgiving they go back to square one, all power evades her, being reduced to a ragdoll in his arms as he hooks his arms beneath her thighs and spreads her all the way open. “ you got wetter when he heard this,” he tugs on her earlobe, hoarse and teetering on the edge of his own pleasure. “ you got tighter when you picked up, such a fucking whore,” he grunts, and she is reeling, nails digging into his shoulders as she tries to take the pounding without screaming. “ little slut is gonna cum from being caught,” he mocks, breathless. “ go ahead and fucking cum.” he is so right there is no fighting it- he commands with that growl and she is falling apart before she can stop it, and suguru is right behind her. 

it takes minutes, for both of them to come down from their highs, as suguru keeps spilling into her with no end and she keeps milking him for all he’s worth, clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. knowing that satoru had stopped calling somewhere right before they came, it truly might have, as there was no knowing what he would be doing right now. his silence was scarier than his reactions, but at the moment she really can’t bring herself to care. “  you doin’ okay?” he asks, making her jolt on his thigh just to get a reaction out of her, brushing her damp strands away from her face, revealing her hazy gaze and unfocused eyes. “ cockdrunk,” he grins. “ look at yourself, poor little thing.” her limbs still work enough for her to give him a slap on the bicep along a roll of her eyes. “ says the man who moaned like a bitch to the boyfriend of the girl he’s fucking. who knew you were such a whore, suguru?” her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. “ you’re full of surprises.” 

“ and you’re so full of unnecessary words,” he sighs, both to how she immediately became annoying again and how it feels when she finally lets him slide out of her, remaining seated on his thigh. none of them make an attempt to leave this cozy nest they have been indulging in for a good hour or two now. “ at this point i just think you are incapable of going fifteen minutes without hearing your own voice.” she snorts with the response, shifting off his lap to collapse right next to him, both of them breathing heavy in silence for a moment. “ what now?” he asks after a few minutes, looking over at her with those heaven of violet eyes. 

she offers him the most charming, dazzling smile of hers. “ what happens is that you tell satoru i said hi,” she says. “ and get out of my car, suguru. i’m done with both your asses.” 

© written by lotuseye. do not translate or copy my work.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/771236927421726720/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros763357044?source=share

Continuation of Rhaenyra slutty daughter and Criston Cole

NSFW

https://www.sex.com/pin/66050014-riding-daddys-cock/

https://www.sex.com/pin/66474601-skilled-teen-throat/

https://images.app.goo.gl/4dbQiZANFE3s2ocv5

https://images.app.goo.gl/NNWcx4Gq5qtDVobd6

After allowing Criston to take her maidenhood and fill her with his seed it never stops after. The princess had become too drunk on the Dornish knight. Enraptured with the possessiveness and degrading Criston would do when they were alone. How she thrilled in him calling her his bastard whore princess, she would get wet just thinking how all what he said was true.

She was a bastard and a whore. A product of her mother who enabled those exact traits.

Pretending to be a good-raised daughter who could do no wrong around her mother. While at the same time, her family could be around the corner having breakfast, while she wasn't far away on the other side of the wall lifted with her legs across Criston's back, her tits out with him thrusting his fat cock in and out of her pussy, filling her up again with his seed. Making sure he releases every drop inside her. While sucking her tits red leaving his mark.

Other times her brothers could be training in the courtyard trying to best Aemond and Aegon. While she was in the stables barely covered by horses. Having her pussy licked, spat, and sucked from the Dornish knights' mouth. Riding his face to where anyone could walk in and see them without a care at all.

Other times her sweet aunt Heleana and the Dowager Queen could be in the library reading to the children and you the strong princess around one of the bookshelves on your knees gagging on the Lord Commander's cock, feeling Criston bring tears to your eyes and drool sliding down both sides of your mouth. He doesn't let up gripping your hair and fucking your face like some whore off of the Street of Silk. Just seeing the depraved angry look in Criston eyes, makes you climax without even being fucked.

Loved by it so much, that it didn't occur to her to ever one day to shut her door. To where her mother walked in on her sweet, not-so-innocent daughter riding the Dornish knight while praising how her blood moon was two months late. Criston seeing Rhaenyra distraught face, smirks, while fucking upwards into the bastard princess. The princess turning around to see her mother, smiles before speaking to her pale face mother.

"Oh, Mother I didn't know you were there. Good news! I with child by your former lover. Now I carry my own bastard.....ah... just like you." The princess said before moaning to the feel of Criston thrusting up into her g spot.

Criston smiled at seeing Rhaenyra fall to her knees crying while he watched her bastard whore of a daughter follow her path and cream his cock, before he thrust once more flooding her walls white with his seed, while the princess screams her climax hitting as she is filled.

It wasn’t long before Rhaenyra and Daemon had her marry off to a lord fast to save her reputation. Her brothers are confused about her sudden marriage as well with her stomach giving a roundness to it. The lord being a wimp, takes Rhaenyra daughter to his home.

The princess was upset and mad at her mother and stepfather for taking her away from Criston. It wasn't long before her son was born sporting, tan skin with brown hair. Her husband, a coward like her father Laenor says it's his when he pales like her with auburn hair. It isn't long before there is an arrival from King Landing. A gift from her grandsire, to her surprise she sees Criston to where she glees. Criston convince the senile king he will protect his granddaughter's dignity.

Viserys is not aware of the hostile tension between both his daughter and the King Guard. Allows Criston to go to Rhaenyra daughter home. Criston being bold in front of the lord in his office, walks up and grabs the princess slamming his lips to her, to where tongue is swapped. The Princess Lord husband is shocked at this ordeal but is a weakling. He starts to sport a hard-on when Criston knocks over his desk to bend the princess over. Ripping her skirt, with her short clothes. Before unlacing his trousers and spreading the princess's arse cheeks to see her wet cunt already leaking.

The princess begging with need. "Please Criston I need you."

"Did my bastard whore princess miss me?" Criston said in a lustful demeaning town.

Whimpering and whining, the princess moans. Nodding her head at missing her child father and former lover. Her lord husband just stood there while the Lord Commander takes his wife in front of him, feels his cock get even harder, at hearing the princess's whorish cries when the Dorne knight thrust into her roughly, seeing her eyes roll back in eyes and her tongue sticking out begging for more.

Criston pulled the princess arms behind her back before pulling her up to make him go deeper. Rips her tops down allowing her heavy milk breast to jiggly. " So fucking perfect. A bastard whore just like your mother. Did you enjoy carrying my bastard in your dirty belly?" Criston spoke harshly with his eyes pitch black in lust.

"YES, YES....AH, I LOVE CARRYING OUR BASTARD...AH, OH FUCK .. SON IN MY FILTHY BELLY. I WANT ANOTHER ONE. GIVE ME ANOTHER CHILD CRISTON " The princess screams, not seeing how her lord husband's hand began stroking himself at the heir daughter being nothing but a slut.

Criston turning to the whore husband, just smirked and spoke "You a weak lord who get off to his wife being taken in front of him. Well, get used to it twat, because you will never fuck this cunt. Since I will be guarding her. She is mine, so you will see me filling her with my seed. Your children will be mind and you will accept them with no argument" Criston saw the puny lord, stroking his small cock, while nervously nodding to every word Cole said, "I will take her in your bed, desk, or whatever the fuck I want and you will see it, if I feel like it."

The princess husband nodding while climaxing, spraying his seed on the floor. Criston still thrusting into the princess before pulling her head back to where he slams his lips on her eye. Kissing with heavy possessiveness. Feeling her milk, him, it's not long before he fills her womb once more. The princess screaming her climax feeling her walls milk every last bit of Criston seed.

News comes later, not to Rhaenyra joy when she hears about her daughter's pregnancy and the birth of twins with tan skin and black hair. Followed by one with pale skin and black hair and eyes. Followed by three more sets without none sporting auburn hair.

THE HOTTEST!!!!!!!!!

I can't deal!!!!!

[queer-ragnelle]

hello! hope you're having a good day :)

I'm slowly introducing my girlfriend to arthurian legend and I was wondering what films you would recommend for a complete beginner (her). I will be next to her explaining things but I also wanted to start off with something more digestible. We've already watched the green knight (2021) (I know) and excalibur (1981) together. thank you for all you do!

Hello, I am and I hope you are too!

Oh yayyy this is so awesome. I'm going to suggest things that I personally feel really give a newbie a grasp of the characters in such a way that if they were to watch something else afterward, it would actually aid them in understanding. There are some films that are so experimental they're unrecognizable (like Knightriders (1981) or Shadow of the Raven (1988)). Those are amazing, visionary films. But they're entrenched in their respective cultures (American and Icelandic respectively) so they don't really help someone new grasp the foundational lore like the things I'll be suggesting will. This list offers self-contained stories with solid writing, great acting, and entertainment enough to keep one engaged, without any requirement for prior knowledge to appreciate.

Here are the beginner friendly options listed in order of release:

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Details the rise & fall of Camelot from Arthur pulling the sword from the stone to his & Mordred's deaths. It has everything, the A/G/L of all time, adorable Percival & Elaine as siblings, Orkney bros Gawain, Agravaine, Gareth, & Mordred (who is not a product of incest), sassy clever Morgan beefing with fatherly sweet Merlin, gorgeous costuming, moving script.

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

This is technically a show but hear me out. It's only 8 episodes, half hour each, & covers the full Arthurian story from Uther's battle with Gorlois to take Igraine all the way to Arthur's passing. Morgan is a central character & fascinating. Arthur raised by Ector alongside Kay. Goes to battle against Lot & Accolon & the other rebellious lords. Great Lancelot & Bors. Guinevere is strong & interesting & sympathetic. Orkney bros Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, & Mordred (who is not a product of incest). Elaine of Corbenic & Elaine of Astolat both present as separate women. Grail quest led by Galahad (no Percival unfortunately). Mador’s brother Guido poisoned “by Guinevere” like in Le Morte d’Arthur & a trial by combat ensues. It’s a really compelling version of events that can give a beginner a great overview of the legends.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Opens with an older Arthur looking to marry. Lancelot is his bestie & champion. Other knights include Gawain, Mordred (who is not a product of incest), Bedivere, Dagonet the jester, Lamorak, Kay the seneschal, & eventually Tor. Lancelot/Guinevere have great chemistry they were married irl.

Gawain and the Green Knight (1991)

Faithful adaptation of SGATGK complete with three days of kissing! Unique by having Gawain recount the reason for his journey as he’s already on it. Flashbacks show Gawain at the high table with Arthur & Guinevere, sitting next to his brother Agravaine, when the Green Knight comes in, & is beheaded. The events at Bertilak’s castle play out just like the poem with the lady coming to tempt Gawain & then he forwards those kisses to Bertilak in exchange for the animal of the hunt. Colorful & fun!

Tristan & Isolde (2006)

One of my favorites. I think the leads have great chemistry & gives a decent overview of the Medieval story without too much access. Mark here is morally way better than in Medlit but it does make the live triangle more juicy. Brangain is really funny here too. There is no magic in this version, so no love potion. Just pure unaided adultery.

Sir Lanval (2011)

Short & sweet indie movie adapting Marie of France’s lay of the same name. Great casting, beautiful costuming, pretty sets. Lanval’s rags to riches story thanks to his fairy lady Tryamour. Sport but well-meaning Arthur not doing his marital duties gives Guinevere sufficient motivation to try & seduce Lanval. Kay is here as Arthur’s foster brother & seneschal but sort of acts like an attorney? Lol? Great movie.

Sire Gauvain et le Chevalier Vert (2014)

Another SGATGK poem adaptation, this time in French (with English subtitles) & condensed to a mere 28 minutes run time. Visually stunning & beautifully acted. A little more mature than the 1991 version, bc of course the French have to get freaky with it sexual style (this is a good thing). Another awesome adaptation worth checking out.

Okay I think those are all my suggestions! Hope that gives you and your girlfriend a solid watch list and you both enjoy them. Take care!

[aziraphales-library]

Love you guys! You're doing amazing work! :)

Do you have any good fics where Crowley is high ranking in hell/lord of hell or Satan?

Also I'd recommend The Mourning Star by MaterialMortal to anyone looking for something like that, it's my favourite that I've found myself.

Thanks! We have #duke of hell crowley and #crowley is satan tags, so do check those out! Here are some more to add...

Heaven meets Hell by MikaFromHell (E)

The Supreme Archangel Aziraphale visits the Prince of Hell. ... "This was fun," Crowley said, finding the unfinished whisky glass on the bedside table. He sipped from it once and then got up from the bed. "We should repeat it some time," he added, squeezing himself into his tight leather trousers. "We shall," Aziraphale replied, following every movement of the demon with his gaze from the bed. Crowley walked to the couch to retrieve his t-shirt from the floor. "Feel free to enter my kingdom again whenever you want, Supreme Archangel," Crowley said, looking back at the blonde over his shoulder. "We can discuss diplomatic issues anytime you want," he winked.

Stockholm's Other Syndrome by WaitingToBeBroken (T)

Grand Duke of Hell Crowley kidnaps Supreme Archangel Aziraphale so he can finally do all those vile, nasty things he has always wanted to do to him. Like feed him sushi or force him to take a walk in the park. Hold his hand so he doesn't escape. Truly disgusting things.

Serpent's Requiem by midnightdragons (G)

Aziraphale stopped, his hand stilling, the pen hovering over the crumpled, demonic-energy-infused paper. He froze. His breath that he didn't need stuttered in his lungs, choking up his throat as his mouth went dry and his face drained of color, leaving him pale. He placed down the pen, and pressed his hand over his mouth, and felt very, very ill, because he recognized the serpentine signature at the bottom of the page, aggressively scrawled and etched in with supernatural occult power that sparked and hissed.

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale recognizes a certain demon's signature when approving a contract for the new Duke of Hell.

Prelude to an Epic by Ginger_Cat (T)

Crowley pretty much loathes everything about being Grand Duke of Hell. He’d known he would. It wasn’t supposed to be about being Duke, him going back there. Doing Duke things. Not at all. It was supposed to be about Aziraphale.

What's in a name by Primroza (T)

Before the Fall the angel was called Lucifer. Years later, after the Fall, once humans reimagine and tell his story, they will call him Satan. But in this particular moment, as he is standing on the wall above Eden, he is simply called Crawly. *** Crowley is the King of Hell. But one small problem, Aziraphale does not know that. And Crowley is sure he can never tell him the truth without the angel rejecting him. Crowley can just hide the truth. It works for about six thousand years and then Crowley's son is about to end the World.

And the one you mentioned...

The Mourning Star by MaterialMortal (NR)

Back before the Creation of Man, before the Garden, there was the Fall. The Fall was lead by Lucifer, the First of the Fallen, God’s Favorite, King of Hell, and is destined to spawn the Destroyer of Mankind. Thinking back to these events, Crowley sighs. He was so productive back then. What happened? (Of course he knew what happened. A little angel happened. Was it in God’s Ineffable Plan that a measly Principality would one day have the Devil himself wrapped around his pinky finger?) (Perhaps so.)

- Mod D

[liesmyth]

the locked tomb holiday exchange rec list

Behold! The good, the magnificent, the sad! The filth and the angst and the feelings! The weird shit that would make TazMuir proud! 💀🎉✨☠️🔥🎊

Here are some favourites from a skim of works posted for @tlt-holiday-exchange, both art and fic. They are MANY and they are JUICY. Find the entire collection HERE, and keep an eye on for authors reveal coming soon!

ART FILLS

A Beautiful Fairy Tale. Wake tells little Bomb a bedtime story but she can't mention a princess without talking about guillotines. Rated T.

Dubious Curiosity. Nona is curious. Nona loves everyone. And Nona wants Cam. (Camilla/Nona) Rated M.

Fingers In Her Mouth. Camilla Hect misses the Warden. Maybe he can lend a helping hand… even in death. (Camilla/hand!Palamedes) Rated M.

just guys being bros. Camilla/Gideon. Gideon touches a boob! A very happy new year to awkward butch lesbians everywhere. Rated T.

Pyrrha Dve Appreciation. Pyrrha & Nona, soft hugs! Rated G.

Stealing Breath. Camilla/Gideon butch-off make-out session. Rated G.

To Shreds, You Say? Pyrrha/Mercymorn/Wake fucking nasty. Rated E.

FIC FILLS

a buried and a burning flame. Coronabeth fucks Gideon's corpse. Rated E.

For all intents and purposes the corpse of the Ninth’s cavalier is a bad lay. That’s all fine, though.

a grave, deep and narrow. Camilla/Palamedes, GtN AU, Character Death, Tape Recorder Conversation Redux. Podfic included! Rated T

Only Lyctors were meant to leave the First House alive. Ianthe insists on bringing Coronabeth; Judith dies of her injuries. Camilla is stranded alone at Canaan House — alone, except for the persistent hallucinations of her necromancer.

affix. Coronabeth/Harrow, humiliation kink, improper use of bones, dom!Harrow, GtN era. rated E.

Cytherea doesn't go to Canaan House AU - Corona overconfidently approaches Harrow in the hopes of exchanging lab keys. Harrow humbles her quickly.

AITA for telling my dad I didn't like my birthday party? Gideon & John, In-Universe Social Media, Character study, Rated T.

I (20F) told my dad (45?M) that I wanted a cool birthday party, but he threw me a terrible birthday party instead. Am I really the asshole for telling him I didn't like it?

and kings shall come out of thy loins. Gideon/Ianthe, crack treated seriously, body horor, SNAKES. Rated M.

Ianthe saves God from the stoma and the River and all she has to show for it are these fucking snubes.

come, dearest heart. Lyctor Palamedes AU, HtN era. Camilla/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Camilla/Palamedes. Rated E.

In Canaan House, Palamedes Sextus unwillingly ascends to Lyctorhood to put an end to Cytherea the First's rampage. He's left heartbroken, grieving, and terribly, terribly lonely.

Don't Care If You Think I'm Dumb (I Don't Care At All). Gideon/Ianthe, Gideon as Kiriona, Unwholesome Tower Princes Bonding ft. bad sex and retail therapy. Rated E.

The newly christened Kiriona Gaia is not having a good time on the Mithraeum. At least she has Ianthe there to make her worse.

Follow Your Dreams, Never Let Them Die. Gideon/Harrow, Pokemon trainers AU! Rated T.

On her Pokemon Journey, Gideon Nav approaches the mysterious Drearburh City Gym - but something feels oddly familiar.

Gaia's Natural Market. modern AU, retail hell, Harrow/Gideon, Harrow/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe. Rated T

RING-A-DING-DING, the Holiday's are here! And nothing says "Give!" like the bounty of the Mother Herself, so come on by to GAIA's Natural Market! Treat your family to a home-cooked meal with only the PUREST of ingredients - all Produce Organic, all Products non-GMO, and all Smiles Authentic and free of Toxins!

Good Girl. Coronabeth/Ianthe, puppyplay, muzzles, rated E.

Coronabeth is Ianthe's big dicked bimbo puppy. Ianthe's into it.

Goodnight, New Rho. Camilla & Nona. Domestic Fluff, Missing Scene. Rated G.

Nona gets a bedtime story. Camilla reminisces about growing up with an older sister. They both sleep well, despite a notable lack of dogs.

In the Empire of the Deeps. Gideon/Nona/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe, Pirate AU, monsterfucking-adjacent, Nona is an eldritch sea creature. Rated E.

A chance encounter on the beach. Ianthe is manipulative, Kiriona is sad, and Nona is not as innocent as she seems. Sometimes, you might yearn for one person and meet another one. Sometimes, you have to take what you can get.

just like normal. Ianthe/Coronabeth, Cytherea is also there. Penis in vagina sex, Exhibitionism, Squirting. Rated E.

Ianthe gives herself a cock, and Corona is increasingly bewildered that she hasn’t been allowed to sit on it yet.

language of its own. Camilla/Palamedes. Worldbuilding, idiots to lovers, pre-canon. Rated T.

Camilla Hect has to do an erotic poetry final.

Masochism Tango. Porn with feelings, knifeplay, vivisection, lyctor-typical everything. Rated E.

Two occasions in which Pyrrha Dve had the pleasure of being under Cytherea's knife, and Mercymorn had the pleasure of Pyrrha Dve.

METHODS OF SUBDUCTION. Judith/Cornabeth, Judith & Varun. Planetary science rizz. Rated M.

Varun the Eater teaches Judith Deuteros how to flirt.

midnight mass. Mercymorn/Cristabel, pre-canon, Character Study. Rated T.

A lifetime before the resurrection and two decades before the apocalypse, a novice nun and a third-year medical student discuss goodness, passion, and salvation at midnight on Christmas morning.

motherhood. Mercymorn uses flesh magic on Wake. Hate sex ensues. Body horror, motherhood as violence, canon compliant. Rated E.

“I will kill you,” you say, with all the placid fervor of a religious convert. When you’re on the edge of real violence, you lose that tense little furrow in your brow—it’s beautiful, really. “Please give me a reason.”

My Love Overflows. Corona/Ianthe, Strap-on, Dirty talk, Impact Play, Hair Pulling, Bladder control. Rated E.

The one in which Corona pisses all over herself at Ianthe's whims.

name and rank. Judith/Coronabeth, Judith & Varun. Judith's failwoman swag! Rated T.

As Judith lies dying, she has nothing but time. Varun the Eater uses it to teach her how to flirt with the Princess. Don’t worry. Varun has got this!

New Rule. Mercymorn/Pyrrha, Ranch AU, stablehand Pyrrha, boss/employee relationship. Rated E.

Never hire stablehands who are too handsome and capable for their own good.

no shade in the shadow of the cross. Cytherea/Mercymorn, angst, fisting, two pillow princesses NOT making it work! Rated E.

Cytherea and Mercymorn have an ill-timed tryst.

per my last email. Camilla/Palamedes. Academia, banter. On peer review and multitasking. Rated M.

“Warden,” she said patiently, “you want me so badly it’s making you stupid."

RISKING OUR LIVES FOR UNIVERSITY HOLE???? 🤯😳 University AU, Team 69. The hole is a basement to be clear! Rated T.

The difficult part of visiting the local haunted house for a feature in the university magazine is not actually the visiting; it’s the writing about it afterwards.

So Messed Up. Ianthe/Coronabeth. Puppy play, collars & leashes, tail plug. Rated E.

Ianthe using her flesh magic to give Corona a big cock for petplay because she loves the idea of her sister being a big dicked bimbo puppy girl who just wants to rut into her.

The Great Gamete Gambit. Camilla & Palamedes, Pre-canon, worldbuilding, sixth house reproductive practices. Rated G.

Palamedes and Camilla have an important package to send, but there's been a heist in the gamete repository! Can the 15-year-old Master Warden and his cavalier crack the case?

The Sextus Scandal. Camilla/Palamedes, Epistolary, Pre-Canon Divergence. Rated E.

Transcripts and documents relating to the disciplinary hearing and subsequent resignation of Master Warden Palamedes Sextus.

Ways to Be Perfect. Babs/Colum Asht, GtN era, Rated M.

When Naberius first glanced across the supper table at Colum Asht, he didn’t immediately get the impression that he was liked.

The end!

Thank you for making it this far. If you enjoyed any of these works, or anything else in the collection, please drop a comment to make our creators feel appreciated <3

[post creators reveal exchange wrap post]

[maarslovesmonkees]

Hey!!! 👋 I wanted to know if you could do a NSFW alphabet for Caesar ?

{Caesar NSFW alphabet}

Hii!! Yes absolutely!! This is my first post, Im actually quite nervous writing😭 I really hope you enjoy (feel free to message me constructive criticism if applicable!)💞💞

Notes and warnings: Caesar x Human!Reader, Gender Neutral terms!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

AFTERCARE IS A MUST! Incredibly giving during and after sex, will pamper you so good. He won't really talk, but his actions speak up loudly. Masaging you in your sore places, kissing your neck, giving you water, cleaning you, then giving you a cuddle right after is his little go-to aftercare routine.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he doesn't have much of a favourite, but if he were to choose, his hands. How much he can do to you with just a touch of his hand. Loves to really feel you, caress your whole body and face, squish your sides and hold your hips as you bounce on his cock.

He loves anything squishy and smooth on their partner. Tummy, ass, tits/pecs etc. He also loves your neck. Smelling your unique human scent, biting it, licking it, nibbiling it>> (in Caesars eyes).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers coming inside, thinking of marking you with his seed. He'll always ask before he comes though, as he knows in human culture, not everyone wants to get creampied. He also cums a big amount, a pool gushing out of you each time you get bred.

If you're scared to get cummed in he'll love to see your stomach and chest covered in his white sticky cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Definitely owned(stole from a cabinet when he was bored) and fapped to porn magazines back when he lived with Will and Caroline. He doesn't own any anymore, as he doesn't use much human products. Plus, he has you now ;3

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not as experienced as you think BUT A VERY FAST LEARNER. He definitely has some knowledge of the human anatomy beforehand so he'll know what to do!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. Aye man he might be an ape king but he still old. Just loves getting a good look at you, and its such a comforting position for both. Vanilla and basic but theres a reason its popular.

Another would be you on top, riding him. Not as taxing on his joints, but also can get a full view of your body. How his dick slides into you, how your boobs/cock bounces as you went up and down... He just loves to give you pleasure and physically seeing it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

Quite serious, and doesn't really joke during it either. He thinks sex is a very pure thing but If you do pop a joke, he'll definitely give you a chuckle as he looks at you adoringly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Do they like hair on their partners? etc.

His fur is softer than you think. He's definitely quite softer than the others as well, trying to maintain a good fur routine as he doesn't want to give you rashes or anything during sex.

He doesn't mind about hair on the partner as well. Shaved, not shaved, trimmed, don't matter to him, he's putting his dick in you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Incredibly romantic. So giving and loving throughout it all. He doesn't talk much, and doesn't really moan either (mostly pleasured grunts), but his actions speak so much louder than words. He'll look into your eyes, caress you, and will DEFINITELY pull your head in for the forehead touch😭💞

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't masturbate often, but he prefers having you with him when he does. He LOVES mutual masturbation, you getting off, gets him off.

When he does masturbate alone, hes quiet and goes slow. Gripping his bed as he comes, thinking of filling you up.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding. Thinking of giving you, a human, his kids gets him all hot and bothered. Whether or not you can have kids, hell still love to fantasize it as he fucks you. Going into positions that has a higher chance of pregnancy, loves getting in deep and cumming in deep, caressing your stomach afterwards after, and even the day after he feeds you like you were pregnant🥺

Praise. Being a king can be hard. Giving him compliments, telling him hes making you feel good, telling him how amazing of a partner he is will give him butterflies. He kind of misses his parents and grandfather. How they were so kind and always praise him. He'll MELT from both your kindness and a bit of nostalgia.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His/your nest. Intimate, private, comfortable, what more can he want. He wants you to be comfortable and laying on the ground with a bunch of sharp sticks and rocks anywhere isn't ideal.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You in the mood, gets him in the mood. As an Ape, he does have a keen sense of smell. If he senses your arousal, instant boner. A human loving him in such a deep, private and erotic way gets him so horny.

Also when your enjoying yourself and physically making it noticable, gets his cock ACHING. Your moans, grunts, shouting of his name, your body shaking in pelasure gets him GOINGGG.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hes a gentle and loving man, below all his stoicism, so he wouldn't do anything that could hurt you. So sorry BDSM lovers :(

I wouldn't think he'd be interested in exhibition or anything involving such a private moment being out for everyone to see. You are his, and hes not really comfortable with others seeing such a vulnerable state for both of you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He has no preference with giving or receiving, but again it he had to choose, giving. He just loves lapping around your heat, slurping up all your juices, and holding your shaking legs stable. He'll be sucking up your sensitive spot then going to nibble your inner thighs.

When receiving, he loves to look into your eyes, and caress your hair. He'll grabs your head oh so gently and help you keep a steady pace. He enjoys it so much but still keeps alert if your jaw starts to hurt. His cock is quite big so good luck 🤞

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and senual for the most part. Especially at first, with you being human and all. Quite fragile compared to a chimp but even after that, he likes to milk every moment of this intimate practice with you. Again, he is quite serious in this matter so he likes being in the moment.

Howeveeerrr, if you ask, he'll happily let you indulge yourself with some fast and hard fucking. Its not like he doesn't like it, he does, its just he prefers sex to be more romantic.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He'll be open to it. Not his favourite but he understand that you both have responsibilities in the colony and need them done, so a little quickie to satisfy you both wouldn't hurt.

Its mostly in the mornings where a good quikie will happen. Waking up to get ready for todays task, but your still horny? He'll smell your arousal and give you a quick orgasm by putting his thick cock into you while stroking your sensitive bits.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Not really but again, open to it. This is Caesar the ape king, we're talking about. He's taken so many risks in his life, and sometimes he just wants something loving, familiar and stable, especially in his sex life with his amazing mate. He'll be hesitant with experimenting but he knows he can trust you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

If in a comfortable position, he can go all night long. Again, grown ass ape we're talking about.

Doesnt last too long when it comes to you. Maybe like 10-20 minutes hes already pumping hot cream deep inside you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't as its quite hard to find (and maintain). If you guys actually have one for some reason, it'll definitely spice up the mutual masturbation time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not a teaser. He loves to give you what you want, what brings you the most pleasure. Its his duty as both a king and a mate to keep his 'subject' happy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Vocally not loud. Grunts and heavy breathing mostly, with a couple of moans here and there.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Doesn't do it often, but loves to stay inside of you after sex. Keeping his cum plugged in deep all night long, and just being attached makes him feel so warm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

5 inches but VERY girthy🙏

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Normal ish. Around 6/10. You can turn him on quite quickly though.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't sleep fast at all. It actually takes quite a while for him to fall asleep. He just loves to stare at you as you sleep, post orgasm and such. He snuggles you up close, kissing your forhead for a while. He likes to look over you, in a protective sense, after sex. He feels the most relaxed in his life with his mate just sleeping next to them, and hes not one to waste a moment.

[avatarofthearchives]

Melanie King Headcanon's

A: Melanie first got into the paranormal as a young teen. She used to explore abandoned places for fun, and one day she decided to cheek out, ironically, an abandoned hospital. Inside she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, and she would've sworn that she kept seeing shadows out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't have any "real" experiences that day, but the paranoia she felt stuck with her so much that it kick started an interest in the paranormal. It's a shame she didn't notice all the spiderwebs....

B: Speaking of Melanie's younger years: She skateboarded a lot as a teen, and even won a few pretty big competitions for her skills. She doesn't skateboard a lot as an adult because her interest waned for other things, but she did show Georgie her skills once, shortly after they first met, actually.

C: Melanie has a new hair color almost every time she appears in the series. She dyes her hair all the time, usually in unnatural colors, but sometimes she'll go brunette or blonde just to do something off from the usual blue or purple or pink. (Her natural hair color is black.)

D: Melanie loves snakes and rats. She's had pet rat's all throughout her childhood, and after the apocalypse she rewards herself for making it through by adopting a milk snake. Her name is Kitty and she's kept far away from the actual cat.

E: She went to college to get a degree in video production but ended up dropping out when "Ghost Hunt UK" took off.

F: She's so bad about leaning back in chairs. It makes people very anxious (Especially Georgie) when she sits in rolly chairs around them because there's at least a 20% chance that's going to tilt over.

G: She's short. She's 5'5 with very large combat boots on. She's 5'3 without them.

H: If you don't count Jon's cheating eye powers then she speaks the most languages out of the cast. She speaks: English, French, Polish, Portuguese, and Spanish. She really likes to travel and wants to have as many national languages in her toolbelt as she can so she can communicate easily when she goes. She, admittedly, does not have the patience for translator apps that are often wrong.

I: Her cane has a cat design on it, and many of the cats look like The Admiral. Georgie helped her pick it out.

J: She listened to "Evil Friends" by Portugal The Man a LOT after joining The Institute.

[streets-in-paradise]

By Duty and Chance - Hector x (Fem) Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by Anon

" (...) Soo basically anything you write about Hector is gonna be greatt. But i was thinking maybe that hector and reader are in arranged marriage ( yk enemies to lovers) but they end up falling for each other. "

YES, YES, YES!! ( ok, I'm gonna calm myself down now).

Just because I'm a simp, the enemy vibe was reduced a bit and the core conflict happens more on them falling at different paces. She was once on the geopolitical enemy side, cause she is a greek, but the marriage happened as a first step of negociations with another greek kingdom acting as nexus before the peace mission in Sparta.

Warnings: arranged marriage, reader starts fancying Hector before he gets into her. Pre war, but it adresses the political situation going on in Greece at the start of the movie and includes mentions to some Iliad characters that weren't in it because she is from Pylos and the movie showed nothing of Nestor's kingdom.

Summary: Your concerted political marriage to Prince Hector of Troy starts as a total disaster. Ashamed of your growing interest on him while the sorrow of a lost love keeps him distant, you focus on proving him you are a fitting wife to deal with his domestical problems before the conclussion of the peace mission started with your union would signal your first political act together.

Back in Greece for a diplomatical trip to Sparta, you come across a souless marriage product of another arrangement and the impact of that meeting calls you to redefine your relationship.

Note: Inspired by the arranged marriage prompts by @creativepromptsforwriting

" My love for one person could never trump the love I have for my people."

Tags: @g-m-kaye @thorsslxve

Sailing away for marriage so nobody else would have to do it for war was a noble act, but you were given the most abnormal circunstancies for the development of the plan.

King Menelaus of Sparta had had finally convinced his brother of creating an alliance with Troy, but the sons of Atreus weren't trully well versed on the language of peace. For so, King Nestor of Pylos offered himself to start the arrangements hoping to accomplish better results. As the only of his daughters available for a political marriage, you were selected to represent the first collaborative gesture of the greeks.

Once Prince Hector of Troy would have made you his wife, he would be in optimal conditions to deal with the Atreides and pact peace as a royal with bonds to he land already established. You father and his were of similar ages, they knew and respected each other despite of standing in opposite sides of the world. It made perfect sense that you would be given to them as a good will present to start the negociations.

The journey was too long and the advice of Nestor was required by the mycenaeans for the ongoing war on Thesaly. Without him, Agamemnon wouldn't be able to persuade Achilles to do his part in the way it would be commanded for him to do. Since your father couldn't split himself in half to attend the needs of each king, the leadership on the diplomatical mission was given to one of your brothers. Antilochus, favorite of the king and your people, delivered you to Troy doing his best to provide a supportive company for you in the difficult time. However, knowing that your father wouldn't be there increased the transactive feeling of the situation.

It was all a bargain between nations, and you were an object being moved from one place to the other.

Bonded for the rest of your life to a man your parents didn't even bother in meeting face to face.

Fame spoke wonders of your future husband, so worthy of trust that your father felt relieved and genuinely happy when the news of Priam's acceptance for the proposal reached Pylos. Hector was claimed to be the sort of man that any father could want for his daughter, that all mothers would feel proud to call their new son, and any respectable lady would dream of marrying. You got sick of being congratulated for having to move to the opposite corner of the world for him. While they were celebrating, you were aware to be essentially loosing your family to live arround strangers for the future chance to share a throne you never wanted.

You hated it and you thought you hated him, untill you saw him for the first time.

Hector was the most handsome man you ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, but he advanced towards you with the calm resignation of a man sentenced to death. He did a great job restricting himself to the formalities, but that was all. In fact, it could be said the meeting had subverted expectations. Charming him on that occasion was your task as the lady of the couple, but he managed to awake a bit of your interest without even trying. While Antilochus noticed how your complaining reduced after meeting your fiance, Paris was struggling to get a smile out of his brother by doing cassual jokes about your beauty.

Polite indiference was all you got from him, even in the day of your wedding. His kiss after sweeping off your veil felt like a handshake to seil the political deal. Logically, you weren't expecting him to hold any feelings for you, but stumbling with his coldness was frustrating. At least in a surface level, you were starting to like him, but you didn't want to humillate yourself trying to make him like you.

Nightfall brought the end of the first day of celebrations, and for the first time, you were meant to be all alone with him. Trojans had similar customs for their hymenaeus, only that the choir of girls following you with torches to light the way to the thalamus was more espectacular than what you would have pictured back in Greece.

It was a magnificent display, romantical sight that contrasted with what was about to happen in that bedchamber.

Lookwise, you were very proud of yourself once the maids finished to prepare you for him. You hair was perfect, your smooth skin impregnated with a delicious perfume, and the thin white nightgown you were wearing was the perfect balance between coverage and exposition of your body. Enough to guess what awaited underneath, but discrete enough to not present yourself naked in front of him.

The color simbolized the purity you were meant to give away for the prince's consumption in the consumation of the marriage. Many greeks would have claimed they wanted to switch places with him, it would have been a joke in the friend group of your brother if they would have seen your transformation and you chuckled to yourself thinking of that as you nervously awaited.

The arrival of your prince changed everything. Amazement of him was strong in your virginal perspective. His toned body was considerably more exposed than before, since he was then only wearing the skirt typically matching his armor, and the perfumed oil freshly applied was giving a subtle shine to his skin. You could have started to feel lucky despite your understandable nerves, if he wouldn't have appeared to be so unaffected by the sight of you in comparison.

A brief look and a smile from afar before proceeding to sit on his side of the bed was all he had for you while your eyes unwillingly feasted on his image. His feet were still touching the floor and he seemed absorbed in some contenplative thinking while staring at the opposite side of the room.

Desperate to break the awkwardness, you attempted to get his attention hoping to help him relax. As a start, you kneeled behind him to caress his neck an shoulders.

" This isn't working. " You commented in a friendly mock. " Normally, the woman is the doubtfull one and it's the man's work to talk her into it. "

Hector was perfectly able to feel the squeeze of your front against his back, how you played with him in a convincing performance of your duty as wife.

" We have to be married, but we don't have to pretend a passion for each other that is clearly not there. "

His warning didn't work to completely dissapoint you.

"I'm just trying to be nice." You excused yourself in a sweet tone. " If it works as consolation, I was the only option Pylos had to offer. I have seven brothers and two sisters: one is already married and the other one is twelve years old. Father convinced me to get here only so none of my brothers will ever have to fight you. "

That simple reference to your family life evoked something stronger than mercy. A memory of someone he loved.

Andromache was a princess and once a sister of seven brothers that had fallen in battle. The reminder that you were just trying to stop the same tragedy from falling upon yourself acted as small comfort for his crushed heart.

She would understand.

" It's not your fault, I accepted the sacrifice. " He vaguely explained. " … My love for one person could never trump the love I have for my people. "

In that simple sentence, he let you know there was someone else in his life before the arrangement and that was the cause of his distant demeanour.

You hugged him from behind with comforting gentleness.

" I was starting to wonder why the brave trojan warrior that almost all greeks fear to face seems so afraid of facing me. " You teased as reply. " Nobody would expect Hector of Troy to flee from the touch of his wife like he has never done for the strikes of the enemy. "

The provocation didn't cause the wanted effect, slnce he didn't mind to live up to his legend in the intimacy of the room.

" I think this is a space safe enough to leave my pride behind. "

He had a point, but he would have to listen yours.

" All I'm going to ask you is to accept you are stucked with me. It's not much, ladies all over the world pretend for husbands they don't like all the time. "

You gave up, collapsing on the matress to bitterly claim your side of the nuptial bed.

" … They fake ecstasy while the strangers on top of them lascerate their virgin insides with their careless thrusting. Women can hold their pain perfectly pretending it's pleasure. You, my friend? All you had to do was giving me a decent kiss for the public to cheer, and you couldn't even do that because you are just so heartbroken. Do you get the cruel irony here? "

Hector followed you, watching you closely as he meditated in your words.

" I have nothing to reproach, you were a flawless bride, but I broke a third fraction of my moral code today. This marriage confronted two of the three rules in it and I had to choose which one I could still follow: to defend my country, I had take a woman I don't love."

He approached a bit closer to kiss your forehead.

" I'll allways respect you, but ríght now I can't be the husband you expected. You have my word, I will do my best, but for a while I believe my company won't be much comforting. "

You turned arround so you could be the one avoiding him.

" I never said I wanted you, I just hoped we could resemble a marriage. "

That wasn't how things were supposed to be like. Despite you weren't a hopeless romantic, you never imagined you would end up with a man who didn't feel the most elemental attraction towards you. Lack of desire in an arranged marriage wasn't supposed to flow in that direction, but the other way arround.

A wife shouldn't be seeking the attention of an indifferent husband instead of commiting to his desires. That wasn't what you were prepared for, since you always guessed it would be expected of you to be sexually required even in a loveless marriage. Rabidly denying your discovered attraction for the heartbroken prince was all you could do to protect your pride after realizing you were useless to him on the most bassic function of your union.

During the week of partying you foud out you weren't the only greek struggling to capture the trojan sensibilities. Antilochus fancied the cousin of your husband, but the girl rejected his every attempt of flirting with frustrating disdain. Keeping the peace mission in mind, your marriage was the best possible outcome. If Briseis would have been to Pylos as your new sister in law instead, her attitude would have caused a political disaster.

The royalty of Troy habitated one strange reality in which their princess freely rejected men with amusing harshness while the youngest prince seduced the most beautifull women arround free of commitement during the celebrations for the heir prince being forced to marry you. It was as if Hector had to assume all the sacrifices so everyone else could live how they wanted. He was the warrior prince so Paris won't have to fight, he had lost the chance to marry the woman he wanted to get trapped with you in an arranged marriage so Briseis could remain a virgin as she had choosen.

The man was a sacrificial bull whose fate was never being questioned, as if he existed to save everyone else.

As his wife, at least in title, you were going to take his side. When the first voices of concern from his relatives started to raise given the obvious fact that he wasn't happy on his marriage, you were not afraid of speaking up.

" I have been going to the temple of Aphrodite every night to pray before reaching my bedchamber. " Briseis was once commenting to him, with sweet naivety. " We need a miracle, but I don't loose the hope for you. "

She meant well and you knew it, but you didn't care. Hector límited himself to thank her and smile, but you couldn't let it pass.

" How about some gratitude instead of your condescending prayers? Are you aware this could have ended up the other way arround, ríght? Under the rules of my world, you should have married my brother. Hector is stucked with me so you won't have to marry one of those warriors you look with pity. "

He couldn't believe what he had witnessed, and he felt relieved it was late enough after dinner for his father to have already retired to his bedchamber.

" You have no reason to scold her for seeking to comfort me. "

Briseis raised up from her seat.

" It's alright, cousin. I understand she is under a lot of pressure. "

If you would have to hear one more pityfull comment, anger would have made you burn on the spot.

" You wouldn't survive in Greece, girl! The life of wives there would slap you in the face and get you off your high horse. " You cutted her off. " Maybe your cousin knows it, and that's why I'm here. "

Paris almost choked in his struggle between drinking wine and stiffling chuckles, what made him an easy target.

" What's so amusing? In greek standards, you aren't even suitable for marriage. No father would give his daughter to a coward archer that only shows off his weapon for hunting. " You inmediately called him out. " I think you know that and marriage terrifies you. Charming the girls is way easier than proving their fathers that you are a man, and if the woman you sleep with is already married you don't even need to worry because the position is occupated. "

Hector slowed you down before your brutal honesty could bring chaos.

" What do you think you are doing?

" Being your wife. " You simply explained. " I couldn't help noticing that your family is a mess and I want to help you fix it. You need a rest, and some acknowledgement of your daily sacrifices ... not like any of them notice. "

The preoccupation sounded sincere and that impressed him. After all, he showed no early emotional investment in you justifying such loyalty.

" We like the mess, but thank you for trying."

For the first time since your wedding took place, Hector gave you a genuine smile expressing real complicity.

If not the wife he loved, he discovered you were at least willing to be a support in his domestic life that was different from the kind his family could provide. You were behaving exactly like your role and rank demmanded, only reproaching your surroundings because you two were the only ones submitted to such thankless pressure.

When Antilochus returned to Pylos with the crew that brought you to asian shores, Hector took the day off to be with you. The last reminiscense of your old home had left on that ship, so he conforted you by actively helping you to slowly build a new one. It was agreed that once you would be established, you would accompany him and his brother on a diplomatical tour bringing you back to Greece, but for that you had to be well adjusted to the new city and your husband.

Under that pretext he convinced himself for seeking to take you out in order to get to know you more. Excuses would pile up whenever he would decide to break the routine and show you some new wonder of his country you could experience together. The wound of his unfullfilled love story from the past remained fresh for a while, so he couldn't admit to himself that there was some interest for you already growing.

However, that didn't stop his father from trying to cassually interfere whenever he could against your mutual resistance.

Priam often approached you by himself to give you history lessons, advice, and all sort of support helping your cultural adaptation. He wanted you to autentically feel as his new daughter and, for the most, he was succeeding.

After one particularly stressfull morning Hector was returning to the section of the palace complex that belonged to both of you since the wedding and found you attending a visit of his father. The servants rushed to welcome him, but he commanded you shouldn't be disturbed.

The King of Troy was asking you news about the heroes emerging in Greece and you were storytelling for him.

" That is a complete misconception. " You were cheerfully correcting him. " Achilles isn't our strongest warrior, that's Ajax of Salamis. He is like a mountain made a man. So strong that a swing of his battle hammer can easily pierce shields."

Priam's curiosity got stronger after the correction.

" Rumours have come to my shores saying the Pelide is the greatest threat Greece has for my kingdom … What is then the cause of such notoriety? "

" He is the fastest: an hurricane bringing devastation wherever he is unleashed. " You completed the tale. " You will never see the lethal blow of Achilles coming before it's too late. King Agamemnon has conquered the majority of Greece by the edge of his sword, but they don't get along. The man holds loyalty to no country. "

The last part didn't surprise the king as much as it should.

" I guess greek heroes just can't compare to my son. "

His comment of pridefull parent purposedly encouraged you to ramble about the virtues of your spouse.

" At risk of ignoring some evidence, I think i will agree. Hector is the best warrior Troy has ever seen, but also a wise, noble, … magnificent man. Of such kind heart, and beautifull as an artwork of Apollo. "

You didn't realized of your mistake after delivering the last part of the sentence and covered your embarassement with laughter.

" … I'm so sorry! That was totally innapropiate!! "

Priam was smiling, easing you with his complicity as if you had given him exactly what he wanted to know.

" I can't blame you for rejoicing of your husband, that's how things should be. "

At that precise moment, Hector revealed himself to make you aware of his arrival.

" Most people would say Paris is the pretty one. "

Your shame was such that you would have wanted earth to swallow you.

" I was merely pointing out you perfectly fit the idea of masculine beauty preferred in Greece. "

" Are greek wives not allowed to like their husbands? " Priam teased you and glanced at his son with amusement. " I haven't visited the country in decades, but I was never aware of that. "

You tried to joke your way out of the situation.

" We are forbbiden from liking them in advance. "

Hector gave a few steps closer in your direction before replying.

" I'm not blind: I can perfectly see i'm married to a beautifull woman. "

Despite he had probably thought about that before, it was the first time he was saying it out loud.

The trip to Greece was a crucial point, not only for the mission started by your marriage, but but for your relationship on itself. It was meant to be structured in two phases. First, you were going to Sparta, where Menelaus would receive you and give you news of Nestor and Agamemnon. If the war against Thesaly was over and the rulers had returned to their kingdoms, you would continue travelling on land to visit Pylos. There, Hector would meet the rest of your family and your father would later accompany you to Mycenae for the hardest part of the tour. After Agamemnon would have accepted the terms of the concerted peace, you would return to Sparta and finish to settle the deal back where you started.

Frightening news for Troy was getting to hear Menelaus saying his brother had conquered the last corner of their country. Suddenly, Hector felt that the inconvenience of being married to a greek that was once a stranger seemed very small in the big scheme of things.

Only once he had the oportunity to dive into greek politics in person, the eldest trojan prince had fully realized what meant to be a son in law of Nestor. The eldest rulling king In the country was highly respected by everyone, and specially the Atreides. He was probably the onlyone whose opinion was completely trusted by Agamemnon, besides from his own brother, and that anecdotic detail was shared by the spartan king himself.

Relaxed on the political front, Hector found time to notice other things.

As intended welcome, Menelaus offered a great celebration that was an autentic show off his fortune. You were drinking, eating and dancing like you didn't properly do during your own wedding party. The promise you made when on the sea of keeping an eye on Paris so Hector could do the deals got sidelined by the mutual discovering going on between you and your husband. Too absorbed in each other to care, being an actual couple instead of an institutional facade.

For a brief instant that disrupted the cheer, he glanced at Helen quietly observing from her seat how everyone else had fun while her husband fooled arround careless of her. Then, Hector looked at you and realized how far you had made it together.

The woman he had in front wasn't the same he awkwardly danced with to keep the appearances on that farse of a wedding celebration. Lonely observant like the spartan queen, only daring to engage in the fun if dragged into it by her brother because she clearly felt she didn't belong there.

You have trully become his wife, his princess.

The realization came to him in the most unexpected moment, on a loud place very innapropiate to talk about feelings.

" Was that what you had in mind when you told me you wanted us to resemble a marriage?" He teased you in whispers, subtly pointing at the royal couple while purposedly leading you into taking a prudential distance from the dancing people. " I see them, and i'm so glad we didn't turn out like them."

It made you chuckle.

" It wasn't them specifically, more of an idea of how a loveless marriage works. "

Hector smirked and pulled you closer, attempting of letting you give in for a hug.

" I understand now what went wrong from the beggining. " He teased the reveal of his conclussion. " … You desired me that night, but noticed I didn't feel the same and that confused you. The uses of your home prepared you to give yourself to a man you wouldn't want, never to not be wanted. Or even less, to find yourself wanting the man rejecting you. It wasn't your fault, as it wasn't mine, but you closed yourself for self preservation after the embarassement you must have felt … And you shouldn't had to feel that way. "

You pressed one hand on his chest as a measure of distance.

" Is this some sick test, Hector?" You called him out, distrustfull. " I'm not the wife you wanted, so I should never want you. I can't do it, that's not how the world works. "

Hector grabbed your wrist softly, gesturally inciting you to accept him.

" Then our world is upside down, but that's fine." He calmed you. " I thought I was respecting the honor of my maiden bride, only to find out she was the one waiting for me. "

You groaned with exasperation, unsure of how to make him understand the real problem going way deeper than that failed episode.

" … You have no idea of how frustrating it is to love you knowing I will never match your lost love. "

The exposure of your hushed suffering made him feel a bit heartbroken for you, but you were also confessing your love for him and that was enough encouragement.

" We needed time … I was not ready to love you, but I am now. "

His metaphorical use of the phrase merged all the possible forms of love he was feeling into one. To make your amazement complete, he grabbed both of your cheeks so you won't be able to escape the passionate public kiss he once couldn't give you on the wedding.

No choir of singing girls guided your way to the bedchamber that time, but you were following Hector and your hearts were beating as one.

[7grandmel]

Rip of the week: 27/01/2025

Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix)

Season 5 No Album Release (Read More) Concrete Jungle (Concrete Man Stage) (Alpha Mix) - Mega Man 9

Ripper Unknown

Requested by fezaki! (Discord)

The big appeal of Season 5 of SiIvaGunner for me, four years after the fact, is that it contains so many gems that I'm yet to discover, due to my detachment from the channel during 2021. I've been the song and dance a number of times; despite a handful of cool happenings like the Masked Wolf / Yankin' rivalry covered on Epic Rap Battles of History: Funny vs. Funnier, and the neat audio drama stories like what I discussed on Knowledge of the Depths, this was the year where the channel felt rather aimless in overall direction going forward. Without a huge investment in the ongoing story, I myself felt less engaged to want to investigate every uploaded rip as closely as I otherwise would have wanted to; yet despite lacking in overall direction, the production quality of rips had begun reaching previously unseen highs. Though the King for Another Day Tournament had ended two years prior, it felt to me as if the quality that said event promised had begun seeping into the channel's everyday uploads, as if the team had understood that layered, ambitious arrangements and mashups were just as appealing outside of events as they were as part of them. As a result of all this, Season 5 saw TONS of rips just like Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix); tragically underrated, largely divorced from the channel's goings-ons, yet OH so deliciously quality.

Sometimes, the great appeal of a rip is understood right from just hearing the concept. Joke lists on wikis can't always communicate immediately the effectiveness of a YTPMV, mashup or arrangement, be it the inherent comedic sound to Slope Dude's mix of sources, the sheer audacity and polish of no more nuzzles in my skin, or the context that surrounds a meme as dense in history as Bottom G and Lagplane. Yet with Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix), after seeing it amidst my requests and searching for it on the wiki, it clicked IMMEDIATELY just why this rip was worth discussing. Soulja Boy is a character who's been around in ripping circles since the channel's earliest days, an icon prominent in the SoundClown shitposting scene that SiIvaGunner grew out of; and a single glance at Dr. Soulja should be enough to immediately tell you why. From the listener's perspective, its an immediately charming and funny source, be it from the iconic steel drums and finger-snapping percussion or how its paired with the dorky, almost pathetic attempt at coolness that Soulja Boy's performance in Crank That evokes. From the perspective of the ripper, Crank That is in the same category as songs like Space Jam discussed on Hoopache and the yet-to-be-covered Chip tha Ripper freestyle; As comedic rap music with 4/4 time signatures andimmediately recognizable, funny-sounding beats, they're almost comically easy to just drag-and-drop on top of existing 4/4 video game music with little to no tweaking. It was their ease of production, and how it led to an absolute overabundance of low-effort rips throughout Season 1, that resulted in the entire Mr. Rental storyline covered on Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options; its this entry-level skill floor that makes rips like The Jamminest of All stand out immediately in quality; and, indeed, it's the knowledge that all Soulja Boy is good for is his funny sound on Crank That that makes Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix) such an immediate stand-out.

Indeed, as you may well hear from just a few seconds of listening; Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix) is far from your everyday Soulja Boy rip, reinventing the scene even after Season 4 Episode 2 had already done so a year prior through the Crank That revitalization covered on Koopa Street. It is, paradoxical as it may sound, a Soulja Boy rip *without* Crank That in focus; still filled with Soulja Boy's immediately identifiable, half-hearted attempts at self-confidence, but notably lacking in those immediately identifiable steel drums. They're still there, to be clear - they make an absolutely triumphant appearance midway through the song playing whats best described as a backing-instrumental solo at 0:44 - but a majority of the rip is instead spent covering the separate Soulja Boy hit Bird Walk. Comparatively, it's notably quite a louder song than Crank That; the vocals layered and reverberating make Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix) sound almost oppressively excited, like you're listening to a group of cheering Soulja Boys in the stands, their cheering given amazing melodic direction through Concrete Jungle's fast-paced melody. Deeper in the mix, you can indeed hear that Bird Walk's lead vocals are pitched to follow along said melody in a way similar to rips like I will Never be a Redneck, yet its fittingly buried underneath the loudness of Bird Walk's vocals mashed up with the melody, the chiptune lead still also playing entirely unaltered right alongside it.

As someone completely unengaged in the larger Soulja Boy discography, the rip is a genuinely super fun listen in large part due to how familiar-yet-unfamiliar it sounds throughout. You hear bits and pieces of Crank That, you can identify Soulja Boy's unmistakeable swagger, and yet it never *quite* sounds like something you've heard before; which, honestly, makes it pretty funny that the rip is using music from Mega Man 9 in particular. The game Aiming to more or less be a spiritual throwback to Mega Man 2 in every way but name, the Concrete Jungle theme can pretty easily be compared directly to Wood Man's Stage theme in structure and the level it's used within; a comparison only made funnier given Wood Man's own high importance on SiIvaGunner itself as written about back on Nice, Slick, Blackness. In that sense, intentional as it may or may not have been, Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix) is almost like a bizarre, alternate-reality version of the kind of rip you'd expect to hear during Season 1 or Season 2; Soulja Boy and Wood Man, but it's not quite Soulja Boy, and it's not quite Wood Man, and yet its an absolute indisputable banger despite those restrictions. The, pardon the choice of words, uncanny feel of the rip is only emphasized by how, per the Wiki, two of the songs of which pieces of are used in the mix remain completely unidentified; nevertheless, they add to the cacophony in a way that still feels composed just enough to stay on track. Variety and escalation, like I've discussed on rips like Be Cool, Be Wild and Be My Girl, is the secret spice to making a SiIvaGunner rip truly memorable, and these little sprinkles keep the rip's energy topped up throughout its 3-minute runtime.

It's a damn shame that the rip's author remains completely unidentified, as there is tons of small little details in execution that I feel the need to commend. There's so much fun had throughout the rip, combining Bird Walk with whatever additional sources join the mix in ways both subtle and blatant, the aforementioned occasional but understated appearances of Crank That's steel drums, or, as also mentioned briefly before, how the rip still insists on having a quiet vocal lead pitch-shifted to Concrete Jungle's melody despite ultimately being secondary to the mashup playing above it. In particular, though, there's a moment right around 01:11, just a few seconds after the first unidentified source is added to the mix, where the progression of the song - its percussion, backing, melody, etc. - is halted for a split second, just to recapture a vocal quirk of the newly-added source. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, the kind of subtle tweak for flavor I otherwise associate with rips by recognized rippers like Eazystep or Sweatpants Select; and yet here it is within Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix), an album-less, less-than-20K-views, 4-years old uncredited rip that I only found out about from a chance encounter on my submission spreadsheet. And it's a rip that's not just well made, but one that takes perhaps the most played out concept in all of SoundClown history - 4/4ths rap mashups - and twists and subverts your every expectation on them in ways you never thought SiIvaGunner could do five whole years into its run. That right there is, once again, the absolute magic of Season 5 SiIvaGunner for me in action; that classics on the level of Concrete Crank (Soulja Mix), rips waiting to showcase the ground they've secretly broken in being conceptually genius and filled with quality in execution, could just be waiting around every corner.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (January 7-13, 2024)

Hard to talk about the Monarch: Legacy of Monsters finale without spoilers, so if you haven't watched it yet, skip ahead to the next item. No flashbacks this time (time dilation aside), just our surviving heroes finally all on the same page to solve a seemingly impossible problem. The momentous reunion between Lee and Keiko got the space it deserved, although I was a touch disappointed that the obvious budding romance between Cate and May got shortchanged. And of course we finally got our first kaiju fight of the series, with Godzilla dispatching the Ion Dragon in a quick but ferocious battle. Fun to see this version of the character take on a low-stakes, low-power challenger for a change. I am routinely frustrated by TV seasons ending on cliffhangers (some of which are then never resolved), but they managed to conclude this season's storyline while setting up the next one, should they have the chance to tell it. Good to have some payoff to the Apex episode earlier in the series. I'm wondering if the series is planning to pivot to Kong now. Since Godzilla: King of the Monsters still hasn't happened yet, the Big G still can't make any public appearances without breaking continuity, which is quite the writing complication.

@bog-o-bones has blessed us with an excellent feature-length video essay on the history of the kaiju genre. Even for a walking encyclopedia like me, it was fun to have it all laid out so cleanly—the way the three genre pillars of Godzilla, Gamera, and Ultraman rise and fall in popularity, never entirely in sync and consequently keeping us steadily entertained over the decades. So many narratives about the genre in print are decades out of date and/or act like barely anything past the sixties was worth making. This one's up-to-the-minute and gives the seismic influence of films like Cloverfield and Pacific Rim their due. I have my quibbles (last-minute re-records accidentally omitted GAMERA -Rebirth-; the original Mothra deserved more attention), but I acknowledge the amount of works covered here is staggering and every fan would tell this story a little bit differently. Highly recommended.

IDW's biggest Godzilla comic ever is coming in May, a one-shot anthology called Godzilla: 70th Anniversary. It'll have nine stories over 100 pages, with the writers including Joëlle Jones, Michael W. Conrad, Matt Frank, James Stokoe, Adam Gorham, and Dan DiDio. (Some of these folks will presumably be illustrating their comics as well.) The solicitation doesn't offer many plot hints, given that scope: "From the American Old West to modern Tokyo and beyond, this collection features stories of the King of the Monsters fighting with its allies like Mothra, against old enemies like the terrible Mechagodzilla, and reshaping the lives of all who fall in its path!" I'm surprised they're not waiting until November—hopefully it doesn't get delayed into November.

Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire will now release in the U.S. two weeks early—March 29. It's taking the place of Bong Joon-ho's Mickey 17, which is now undated. I can hardly complain about being able to see it earlier, though the move comes with some risk, as it's now opening the week after Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.

SRS Cinema has opened preorders for their Yuzo the Biggest Battle in Tokyo Blu-ray. Or is it Yuzo: The Biggest Battle on Tokyo? That's what the product page says, but on the cover the title's unchanged. Oh, SRS. Anyway, bonus features are scant: just trailers and something called "A Brief Introduction To Ishii Yoshikazu."

Here's the teaser trailer for Volcanodon, a short film from Taiwan's Creator Union of Tokusatsu. They're aiming to have it uploaded to YouTube sometime this year, and I'll happily watch it. Obviously low-budget, but it's well-shot and it's nice to see a kaiju movie outside of Japan go all-in on practical effects.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Caste is, as Ambedkar said, “not just a division of labour but, a division of labourers.” Wherever this institution went, it tried to freeze the society into a fossilized rulership and a fossilized disposable and disciplined labouring class. And just as division of labour alienates the workers from her work, product of her labour and life itself; the division of labourers alienated the whole of society and deeply fractured the spirit of human morality and solidarity. The caste structure gave birth to the caste society which has outlived the mode of domination it was invented to serve.

The straitjacket of caste did not emerge in isolation. It is one part of the centuries old project of societal control – Brahmanism. This entry is an attempt to find an anarchist orientation towards Bhrahmanism and its annihilation by looking at some episodes in its history and mutations.

Brahmanism, primarily, is and always has been a socio-political ideology and not a religious movement. The ideology consists in the believe that Brahmans have established links with the higher realms, they are the natural advisors to the rulers on social and political matters and, that they hold the highest place in the social hierarchy. The hierarchy consists in a four tier system of Varna and those who are out of this hierarchy forming the Avarna strata, based on Brahmans principles of standardized purity. Within this image of the Brahmanical society the caste becomes the essential of realizing the dominance of Brahmans as the priestly caste. To insure the success and reproduction of this institution every aspect of human life from the cradle to the grave are governed by strict laws codified in various books and laws of local kingdoms.

This vision of society was largely realized in significant parts of the sub-continent with varying degrees of success, modifications and compromises with other power system. This was not an easy task and beginning with the invasion of Alexander of Macedon, the Brahmans were prosecuted in the north-western region of what is now called India, the only region where they had influence. This continued with Ashoka’s and later his son, Kunala’s murdering of the “treacherous” Brahmans who were fueling anti-Maurya sentiments in local courts. The situation was so bad for the priestly caste that they were sure that the end of the world has finally arrived – the end of Kali Yuga. But Brahmanism not only survived but thrived and the impacts of its unfortunate success to this day are leaving bloody marks on human body and spirit.

Brahmanism conquered not by the blade of the sword but with the succor of the myth. Brahmans spread stories of their demigod like powers, the benefits of befriending and dangers of crossing them. Most importantly they provided to the rulers a divine lineage and right to rule till the end of time and the practical knowledge of statecraft. The Brahmans without ever becoming a threat to political power gave rulers a lineage they can link back to the Puranas and the Vedic era. They were not only able but necessary for the prosperity of the land, making the ruler the permanent and necessary fixture in the mind of the masses.

The benefits flow both ways. Kshatriya and the other ruling castes were essential for realizing the Brahmanical society. It was the duty of the warrior class to institute Danda for its maintenance. In essence, Brahmanism is statism. The kingly class is so essential to the ideology that the end of Yugas are marked by the Kshatriyas becoming incompetent in maintaining the Varna vyavastha and that the evidence that the end of time had not yet arrived was the fact that most king’s lineage maintained their thrones.

This perfect union of the priestly caste and the ruling class is no accident. Humans, when incapable of making sense of the untimely flood, failed crops or plague conjure up unseen forces that help us make sense of the unpredictability and meaninglessness around. Through the combined effect of general ignorance and the need for self-preservation the first seed of authority and power is sown in the heart. God becomes the Supreme Ruler. Once formalized enough, we try to tame the forces through rituals and sacrifices. In initial stages this practice is individualistic. The relation of these forces or gods is direct and intimate, but soon these practices become socialized and a specialized class of sacrifice experts emerges. The link of individual to the god is broken and a flesh and blood human becomes a new center of social power. The same phenomenon repeats itself in sphere of social organization and to tame the social forces in our favor we learn to surrender to the Ruler, sent on earth by the Supreme Ruler. To the extent we submit to a power for self preservation, from corporate bureaucracies to nation states and families, all forms of rulershipare religion.

It was during this period of renewal of Brahmanism, returning from the brink of extinction that the pantheon that is now recognized as Hindu deities was gradually created. First by casting the individualistic, semi-socialized religious cults of Krishna, Shiva etc into the mold of Brahmanism and later by making the newer gods the incarnation of the former. In this process of absorptionreplicating the hierarchy of the Brahmanical society into the realm of gods. Through economic and political coercion the religious power now served the interest of the Brahmans and states.

I skip the changes this Brahmanical temporal authority ordained by the divine authority underwent over the next few centuries and under the Mughal rule and turn to its first interaction with capitalism, the Company Raj, colonization and modern nation states that shook the roots of the old project. In the preceding decades the merchant caste, with its control over rural finance and land displaced the Brahmans from the top of social hierarchy. In Bengal province by the end of the nawab rule fifteen families controlled 60% of the land and in Punjab the British administration had to introduce a law to regulate the acquisition of land by the money lenders on failure of payment of debts. And with the changing nature of sovereignty from the village level to the new national imagination Brahmanism had to mutate once more to survive.

The core of this mutation was the deep-seated hatred of the individual – her free development and initiative. Faced with European capitalism, in its vulgarized disguise of individual freedom the reformers, who had taken up the task of reviving the Indian culture by going back to the Vedic sources, were united in there contempt for the individual. They found in the Varna system the solution to the modern problems of nations. Caste does not necessarily have to be based on heredity but the proper division of labour and social activity based on natural hierarchies which was necessitated by the needs of social organization. Caste with natural leadership of Brahmans, was no longer justified by the metaphysics of religion became the outcome of the theology of social sciences, its theory of race, competition, gender superiority and survival of the fittest. Its aim was to serve the New God of “national interest”.

In search of this nation Brahmanism morphed into Hindutva. This new outward expression of the lust for power also explicitly presented itself as a political project and not a religious movement. Within the Hindi, Hindu, Hindustan that is to bring glory to the nation state, the Hindu is a casteist structure. This was novel. The Hindu identity for a political project was necessitated by two factors. First, the apparent feebleness of the social unity – togetherness and second, the essential principle of nationhood – unity through separation.

Savarkar understood this principle well – “nothing can weld peoples into a nation and nations into a state as the pressure of a common foe. Hatred separates as well as unites.” A nation is that artificial and arbitrary unit of territory and subjects that a political power has acquired for controlling and fleecing. It destroys the natural love and association with the place of birth and our immediate communities through its industrialization and directs that human feeling towards the worship of this abstraction, its symbols and submission to its policies. This form of rulership finds its fullest expression in Totalitarianism of Nazism, Bolshevism or Brahmanism.

The national identity of Hindu provided the aspect of togetherness through idea of blood, culture and language, modification of Shudhi, etc. and its separation through the idea of the Muslim. Whether the state takes refuge in the ideology and shape of Hindutva or secular nationalism – two face of the same coin, its true nature remains the same, that of attuning all human expressions to the beat of this soulless political machine in the name of “national interest”. This technical term does not include the interests of the population – free and quality education and health care, well paid jobs or free or cheap housing for all, it means the interest of the market, the interest of the war machine that is the life blood of the state – its defense from other competing states, its source of expansion outside and control within.

After the transfer of power in 1947, India has remained a fractured community with its apartheid of caste and material conditions furnished by generations of deprivation and violence. In the rural regions it maintain the old structure of control and coercion while in urban setting it modified mildly and justified the stratification by logic of hygiene and merit – that is justifying privilege with privilege itself. The new Indian state did not start a project of actively constructing a casteist state but through its passivity towards caste issues it perpetuated the caste society within the shell of a capitalist state system, each feeding off the other. The maintenance of hierarchical corporate structure that is the Hindu family and segregation through the institution of marriage. The upper castes continued their take over of bureaucracy and managerial positions in state and cultural institution, practically, without any reservation mechanism and that continue to define the Indian society till date.

If we anarchists say that sanctity of the temple of the parliament and its new priesthood just like the temple of the old gods and the Brahmans is a lie and deception then, what do we have to say about reservation and other methods of achieving equality within the current state of things? To this we say that even the ritual of horse sacrifice must have yielded results for the masses, not from the blood drawn but from their organizing for themselves, taking things into their own hand and shaking things up. This assertive self-organization of the masses in each epoch of history has realized to the extent possible the moral and social progress. And within the modern nation states this progress, which is the collective wealth of our humanity has received a degree of formalization.

The erosion of this progress and regression will always be a possibility as long as there is a power whose control it weakens. And when this social progress is at its highest the instruments of domination have also become sharper, deadly and now threaten us with the possibility of ending the only known experiment of life in the universe. Anarchist believe that through continuing this assertive self-organizing for securing more and more moral progress we not only improve our immediate condition but also prepare ourself for the final destruction of social, political and economic rulership. A liberal welfare state can be an holding ground that reduces the impact of the blows from the state and the caste society and gives us opportunity for further progress. But the ultimate safeguard from Brahmanism or any other form of absolute domination over human body and spirit is Anarchism.

In an hierarchical society, certain individuals at particular historical junctures can play a catalytic role in either accelerating the progress or dragging it back for decades. If the former, then too, it is the social organization of individuals based on values of equality, mutual aid and decentralization of power that maintain it. There is further limit of the strategy of “having the right faces in the high places”. Once in position of power, the prerogative of the institutions dictate their actions. Having women, dalit-bahujan or queer people In position of power, like other holding strategies can make some limited gains but in the end the only interests these individuals represent are their own. No person can “represent” another person, a whole community lesser still. It maintains the relations of dependence and submission and further dulls the instincts for self-initiative and fosters moral passivity – a perfect condition for Brahmanism or any form of authority to exploit.

Even if the major decision of life and society are now made by the captains of industry and states-persons, and even if these decisions are not primarily driven by Brahmanical interests (and how different are these differences after all?) Caste is still alive. Some aspects of caste have been weakened and at the same time others strengthened. The general economic inequality, access to housing, well paid jobs – which means class – is graded on caste lines. As one historian noted, “it is striking how many of the country’s billionaires today are, though not direct descendants of eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century magnates, certainly originate from the same communities which began to accumulate wealth and influence at the end of the Mughal period and during the rise of the English East India Company.” The social stigma, practices of untouchablity and the Brahmanical institution of marriage flourish. Two great forces are gravitating towards forging a new Brahmanical-Hindutva order and a hazy road for taking in the opposite direction also gradually becoming visible. Both possibilities, like always depend on one thing – Organizing.

The force of social reaction to the neo-liberal bloodbath which turned a preventable health crisis into an global pandemic and in India made 12 crore people unemployed in a single month is the decisive factor in the fate of Brahmanism. 10 crore young Indians have given up all hope of finding a job and had stopped searching for work long before the current economic breakdown. Half of the youth of this country are unemployed. And those who have work are working 12 hours shifts to survive hand to mouth. In this constantly changing external world the individual loses her equilibrium. These uprooted millions turn into a mob seeking a source of stability and finding themselves incapable of self emancipation look for external power that would uplift them and give life a new meaning. Along with religiosity, in some cases the caste relations are strengthened as they are seen as a source of nourishment.

This combined with RSS’s mobilization and organization is the path towards strengthening Leader worship and Hindutva. The breaking up of the process of class reproduction and the erosion of the middle class, and with it the hopes and aspirations of millions in front of their eyes is accelerating. By some estimate at least half of the children born in middle class do not remain in it when they reach adulthood. The concentrating boss class is eager to exploit the people on caste lines. This is where one possibility of going in the other direction lies – poor peoples’ revolutionary unionism. The traditional unions that replicate the caste structure due to its hierarchical nature will only represent the interests of the minority leader class and not the workers themselves.

Its only through Anarcho-Syndicalism that we can achieve the threefold task of achieving progress in living and work standards, wages, expansion of reservation to compensate for the generational subjugation of dalit-bahujans in private and public sector, expanding the public sector that enables creation of new and greener jobs, progressive taxation and day-to-day struggles at workplaces; confronting the caste issue face to face as members of working class as well as part of oppressed communities through minority committees, along with local union branches to address caste at workplace and within the unions and; shedding away the elaborate etiquette of submission of this casteist society through rediscovering our instincts for self-initiative and direct action rather being dependent on this or that leader, the despot of tomorrow. This rediscovery and the development of this instinct and culture in the organized form within these alternative institutions form the essential ingredient of the society that shall replace the current disorder.

John R. McLane noted that, “since an individual’s obligations and privileges were specific to his or her family, jati, and age, universal standards of political-moral behavior rarely galvanized people into cooperative political effort.” Any intellectual current or form of practice that exclusively promote inward inquiry at cost of building broad solidarity of all oppressed while understanding the various inner relations in practice, unintentionally replicates the essential of the nation and Brahmanical order and play into hand of our enemies like in 2019 general election where Jadav-Yadav dynamic was a major determining factor in BJP’s victory. We do not wish to repeat these past mistakes, neither of the Marxist left that minimizes the importance of non-economic cultural and social factors at work and in society and address them within their organization and programs nor, of the narrow identity politics that in the long-run poses no threat to the status quo that it apparently wishes to destroy and has no space for broad solidarity based on shared needs and values in genuinely democratic and workers controlled organizations.

Revolutionary unionism is only one part of the struggle. Anarchists and other individuals must engage in cultural struggles towards elimination of the caste society. I cannot pretend to have a solution to this problem, I can only note that we know that the forces of alienation aggravates it and that we have a legacy of experiments by the people from dalit-bahujan castes to build upon and with anarchist emphasis on the abolition of marriage, dismantling the corporation of family and building a society based on free love and societal responsibility of child rearing, we have the impetus to motivate action in direction of liberation.

Caste being a particular configuration of hierarchy and the method of its reproduction, it finds affinity with all forms of dominations and latch on to the one it finds. While through the autonomous and varied cultural struggles and fighting back the class war as working class dealing with caste antagonism we make conditions better for both our class and dalit-bahujans, Anarchism is Brahmanisms only permanent solution. As long as there is a state or a economy based on private property, RSS has the possibility of achieving its desired position of the Raj Guru to the State. Following in the footsteps of the Saudra-attishudra Dakaits and their direct actions against capital and domination we organize not to end any particular form of authority but Rulership itself.

For a Casteless Society! – For Annihilation of Brahmanism! – For a Free Humanity!

For Anarchy!

[reasoningdaily]

12 African Gods and Goddesses: The Orisha Pantheon | History Cooperative

A vast, diverse continent, religion, and mythology across Africa is rich and vibrant. The African gods and goddesses that make up these belief systems are worshipped in many ways by millions of people around the world.

The Yoruba religion, which is today found throughout Southern Nigeria, forms the basis of many religions practiced by members of the African diaspora. These gods and goddesses are some of the more well-known in Africa yet some of the lesser known by people of the the rest of the world.

A detailed list of all the African gods and goddesses would be endless, but these twelve from the Orisha Pantheon are a good place to start.

Table of Contents

Eshu: the Divine Trickster

Ogun: the Master of Iron

Shango: the Bringer of Thunder

Oshun: the Mother of Rivers

Obatala: the King of Peace

Oya, the Goddess of Weather

Obaluaye, the Master of Healing

Yemonja: the Whisper of the Ocean

Orunmila, the Oracle of Wisdom

Oba, the Flow of the River

How Many African Gods are There?

The Concept of a Supreme African God

Olodumare and his Journey Away from Earth

The Capstone of African Mythology

Important themes 

Eshu: the Divine Trickster

Mischief is something that doesn’t go unnoticed in African mythology in general. Trickster gods are present in many cultures around the world. It is something that adds that bit of extra tanginess to a stew of divine righteousness. 

When mischief and trickery can be converted into an orb of power controlled by a celestial spirit, it makes way for a relatively powerful narrative that strikes awe within its believers. 

Eshu, otherwise known as Elegba, is the Trickster of the Orisha Pantheon. He is the benevolent version of Loki in African mythology and a wandering trickster spirit generally concerned with probability and elusiveness. 

By Western interpretation of Eshu, though, he is not seen as this malicious spirit doomed to destroy humanity through psychological trickery. Instead, he has solidified his position as a messenger between the realm of spirits and humankind, not unlike the Greek god Hermes. 

He is not depicted as the devil himself. Still, He is believed to be more than capable of bringing adversity to those that do not take note of his presence. On the other hand, he requires sacrifices of resources such as tobacco to ensure constant appeasement and protection of human spirits

Ogun: the Master of Iron

No settlement can be complete without an armory. An armory provides the means to defend oneself from the dangers of the outside world. This defense was a top priority in a hostile place like West Africa.

And what better tool to carry it out than the trusty old iron?

Being abundant in the region, iron was a vital resource. Hence, the material having a specific personality induced a sense of wonder and natural instinct among those who believed in its smithing magic. 

Ogun is the Giver of Iron in the Orisha Pantheon. Alongside mastering the delivery of this world-building resource, Ogun is also dubbed the Warrior God of War. Wielding weapons of fine craftsmanship, Ogun oversees metalwork and conflicts that arise within the Yoruba people.

However, he refuses to interfere in what individuals choose to do with the weapons he blesses the productions of. The destiny of the weapon is left in the hands of the human who possesses it. This is an ode to Ogun’s double-edged sword, representing two sides of justice.

Being garbed in red, Ogun represents aggression in one narrative. Hence, his being is deeply rooted in the Yoruba people’s psychology. As a result, he stands as one of the crucial Orishas in the pantheon.

Shango: the Bringer of Thunder

Modern people often underestimate the might of a crackling burst of thunder. During ancient times, a slap of thunder signaled the onset of danger, or the gods’ wrath hurtling down from the heavens. 

In the Orisha pantheon, the supreme god meant existence through Olodumare, and the Yoruba storm god Shango was its bane. Filtering the very essence of wrath and fury, he was the bringer of thunder and brimming masculinity.

Sharing a commonplace with other famous gods such as the Greek Zeus and the Norse Thor, his prowess remained dominant with a chaotic sky. Shango directs the destination of thunder and lightning depending on what goes on in the world down below. 

His authoritative use of raw power symbolizes typical masculinity, linking him to a more personal viewpoint for followers of the Orisha pantheon. 

This power is often connected to dances conveying threatening gestures in rituals dedicated to this thunderous deity.

Shango has three wives, Oshun, Oya, and Oba. They are all mentioned within this list. 

Oshun: the Mother of Rivers

The natural world generally flourishes with life. This wouldn’t have been possible without bodies of water snaking through lush, dense forests, bringing much-needed vitality to all who benefit from it. Nearly every culture associates rivers with something benevolent. After all, they are essential natural resources giving way to life thriving within its banks. 

Being the Goddess of Rivers, Oshun is often attributed to being the lifeblood of the Niger River. In fact, her name comes from ‘Orisun,’ which was referred to as being the source of the Niger River. Oshun is also Shango’s favorite wife. 

Oshun’s aquatic finesse over the rivers of West Africa immortalized her spot as one of the most critical Orishas. Her blessings ensure that the water remains clean and fishes remain plenty, giving the people a peek into her somewhat empathetic side. 

This empathy also means that she is associated with fertility and childbirth. She is strikingly similar to Dionysus, the Greek goddess of wine and fertility. Being involved in marine affairs also implies that she is engaged in rejuvenating the human mind, further solidifying her position. In the Americas, Oshun is regarded as the ‘Orisha of Love.’ 

However, one thing is for sure. Whichever way she is depicted, she is always shown to be a motherly being with nothing but divine power at her fingertips.

Obatala: the King of Peace

While many Orishas are imaged through physical manifestations such as lightning or rivers, some are connected to deep human affairs. Peace, honesty, and creativity are just some of them.

Garbed in white, the King of Peace Obatala is a merciful Orisha dispatching purity. He is often noted as being the master behind shaping every child when they are within the womb. 

His symbols include a white dove and, in more modern times, wreaths of olives due to them becoming a universal sign of peace. Obatala practices a more specific approach to humankind, taking deep care of their psychology while enforcing justice within their affairs.

Oya, the Goddess of Weather

Good weather brings peace to mind momentarily. A great, lasting one makes way for a civilization to flourish. Crops may live or die due to changes in the skies above, and stomachs may be quenched for hunger or thirst. Weather is a fundamental aspect of any significant settlement.

Oya is the Orisha of the weather. Defined as an embodiment of wind, she is Shango’s wife and hence the direct caterer of his will. Besides shifting the clouds, Oya is also connected to tending to the dead. The ‘dead’ doesn’t just include a human being; it consists of the natural world in the sense that dead trees would have to fall to make way for newer ones. Her Slavic god counterpart in Slavic mythology would be Stribog. 

So, in reality, Oya really is the goddess of change. Like the weather’s unpredictability, she also commandeers the essence of constantly changing the natural world so it may continue flourishing. Due to this, she also holds domain over psychological qualities such as intuition and clairvoyance. 

Obaluaye, the Master of Healing

The concept of regenerative vitality is crucial to every society. No human being is immune to all diseases; however, when there is a chance to heal, it is always welcomed. This duality of vulnerability to conditions and protection against them makes up the next Orisha.

Obaluaye, also known as Babalú Aye, is the Orisha of healing and miracles within the pantheon. Both revered and feared, Obaluaye is well respected by the followers, and he is said to curse you as quickly as he can heal you. Being connected to places such as hospitals where the borders of life and death are frequently grazed.

Obaluaye is also connected to rituals that promote the cure for illnesses. His healing powers range from epidemics to skin diseases and inflammations. This healing power is said to be catered more toward people closer to death.

Yemonja: the Whisper of the Ocean

The ocean is vast and seldom cruel, and it is impossible to predict what lies beneath deep waves and endless stretches of water. Such is the need for a motherly figure to watch over all the uncertainty of this blue domain.

Yemonja is the Orisha of the ocean. Not only does she hold control over it, but she also radiates the power of compassion and love. Her watch over the seas sustains life as it is and seals her importance as a motherly figure in the pantheon and the entirety of African mythology. 

Speaking of which, Yemonja is the metaphysical mother of all the other gods in the Orisha pantheon. Hence, she is much revered and respected.

Orunmila, the Oracle of Wisdom

The concept of destiny is gazed upon in awe by all those who truly place their faith in it. Destiny is an important notion to believe in because it continually shapes the lifestyle of the individual who lives in its belief.

Orunmila, the Orisha of knowledge, omniscience, and wisdom, is the embodiment of destiny. His purpose might not be material, but it is a psychological one reflected in many African myths. 

Human spirits exist within the mind, and hence, tending to its development is what Orunmila really does. He holds power over knowledge, including information, intuition, and instinct. General African myths deal with confusion by introducing a force that counters it. Orunmila is a prime example of it.

His role also extends to the natural world as he knows everything that takes place within it. 

Oba, the Flow of the River

Orishas, too, have emotions that flow gracefully like the river. Oba, the Orisha of water and manifestation, is no exception to a story that is best linked to jealousy. 

Being the third and the most senior wife of Shango, Oba was one of his consorts. In the pantheon, Oshun was Shango’s favorite wife, which greatly affected Oba. When Oba asked Oshun about what she did to become Shango’s favorite, Oshun simply lied to her (knowing Oba’s children would inherit the kingdom). She said she once cut off her ear, turned it into powder, and sprinkled it into Shango’s food.

Driven by the will to become Shango’s favorite, Oba followed Oshun and sliced off her ear into his food. Naturally, Shango noticed a floating ear in his food and exiled Oba from his abode. 

Oba fell to Earth down below and morphed into the Oba river. Interestingly, the Oba river intersects the Osun river at an explosive speed, symbolizing a long-standing rivalry between two of Shango’s wives.

Oba is linked to rivers, marriage, fertility, and restoration. 

How Many African Gods are There?

The pantheon of Orishas (traditionally followed by the Yoruba people) is a sequence of divine spirits dispatched by the supreme god Olodumare.

Though a specific number can’t be placed on the amount of Orishas, there is an exciting notion around it. It is said that there are 400+1 Orishas, where the ‘ stands as an incomprehensible number that implies infinity. 

There isn’t an exact number, but sometimes it goes up to 700, 900, or even 1440 Orishas. As for the “400+1” concept, the 1 is an incredibly sacred number that tells you that there are countless Orishas, but you will always be one count short if you try to comprehend it.

So you may think about the total as often as you like, but there will always be one more Orisha to consider.

And yes, this does go on forever. 

The Concept of a Supreme African God

In African Mythology, the Yoruba people very well received the notion of an omnipotent sky god looking over all things that live on Earth. In fact, it takes the form of Olodumare, a celestial being that transcends the boundaries of space, time, gender, and dimensions. 

Olodumare is also known as Olorun, which means “the Almighty.” Although his omnipotence strikes a profound sense of existential authority, the Yoruba people do not have any dedicated shrines or places of worship for him. Part of this is due to the belief that Olodumare is so deific; his mere distance from the human world makes him incredibly detached from their daily affairs.

Olodumare and his Journey Away from Earth

The Lord of the Heavens was not always this distant from the planet riddled with human beings. 

It is believed that at one point in time, Olodumare was close to Earth. However, the constant need by human beings for basic things from the sky, such as food, seemed to frustrate him, so he began his journey away from the planet. Since his abode was the skies, he separated them and himself from the Earth and hence controlled the world from a cosmic distance.

It is here where he found the need to create the Orishas. As the emissaries of his power and will, the Orishas were each assigned unique functions, ensuring total order within the planet of Earth. 

The Capstone of African Mythology

Most African traditional religions are extraordinarily diverse and range over countless cultures and practices. The Yoruba religion and its beliefs influence human life in both the African continent and other regions. 

The Yoruba religion can be marked as a capstone of African beliefs due to its wide acceptance. Of all the African religions, this remains one of the few on the rise. In present-day Nigeria, Yoruba mythology has evolved into a faith where its followers address the gods and goddesses in respect to the complex oral traditions passed down from generation to generation.

The Yoruba people refer to this religion as Ìṣẹ̀ṣẹ. The word itself can be broken down into two parts;”’Ìṣẹ̀” means’ origin’ and ìṣe refers to “practice.” Coming together, Ìṣẹ̀ṣẹ literally means “practicing our origin.” As you can see, this is a beautiful way to honor their roots, as most of their traditions and beliefs spring from their deep-rooted faith in the Orisha Pantheon. 

Important themes

A relatively common theme integrated into the Yoruba religion is Animism. Animism refers to the belief that everything (and yes, LITERALLY everything) possesses a spiritual quintessence. Due to this, every object (material or immaterial) is believed to have some sort of sentience. 

As a result, they are all controlled within the domains of the Orishas. Like the gods and goddesses of Ancient Egypt and Rome, there is always a supreme being keeping watch over all. 

Another belief revolves around reincarnation. The belief in reincarnation is linked to ideas from their ancestors. The notion of reincarnation is that deceased family members make their journey back to life as a new baby in the same family they once departed from. 

As a direct result, Yoruba people can sometimes be identified as their departed imprints through visions and likenesses in appearances. To honor this, they are often given names such as “Babatunde,” which means “father returns” or “Yetunde” (mother returns). 

These reincarnated figures are usually there to assist their progeny with everyday life and general faith. Hence, dead ancestors remain as relevant as they can ever be even after death.  

Additional Resources

The Orishas, https://legacy.cs.indiana.edu/~port/teach/205/santeria2.html.  

Dialogue Institute. “Yoruba.” Dialogue Institute, Dialogue Institute, 16 Sept. 2020, https://dialogueinstitute.org/afrocaribbean-and-african-religion-information/2020/9/16/yoruba .

“Home.” Staff – Works –, https://africa.si.edu/collections/objects/4343/staff;jsessionid=D42CDB944133045361825BF627EC3B4C.  

[adhd-merlin]

Ah someone else who has discovered the joys of Camelot (1967) a movie that I am completely normal about. Have you watched it? Because the delivery of the lines is everything and if you need someone to talk to about it I am, once again, completely normal about it. The scene where Lancelot and Arthur first meet?? A masterpiece in sharing a single braincell. And don't even get me started on the way Guenevere first treats Lancelot "have you jousted with humility lately". It's unapologetically at the top of my Arthuriana movie rank list and has gotten me to reread The Once and Future King

I have not watched the film yet!

I've been listening to the original cast recording on Spotify but, most importantly, I've read the book of the original Broadway production (1960 libretto) and I love it?? It's a delightful little read on its own, even without having watched the musical. (I want other people to read it please it's very funny I promise)

I guess the 1967 film script won't be identical to the libretto but I assume it's fairly similar.

The scene where Lancelot meets Arthur was hilarious it made me laugh out loud. Lancelot utter puzzlement ("Gone a-Maying, Your Majesty??"). Arthur's sudden self-consciousness.

And don't even get me started on the way Guenevere first treats Lancelot "have you jousted with humility lately"

I know!! Lancelot's grating self-righteousness coupled with his complete lack of self-awareness is so funny.

And I loved the gradual tone shift. It starts out so silly and the tragedy sneaks up on you — I thought Guinevere and Lancelot's affair might be played for laughs with an oblivious Arthur but no, it turns out he's fully aware of what's going on and he's forced to watch it unfold because he's powerless to stop it? and he loves them both and doesn't want any harm to come to them even as they betray him??

(He continues talking, looking from one to the other, feverishly — painfully) — Excuse me??

and King Pellinore is hilarious, he enters the scene wearing a monocle followed by a little mongrel named Horrid and talking like a character from a P. G. Wodehouse's novel. Extremely validating because when I read that chapter in Le Morte d'Arthur in which King Pellinore first makes an appearance my first question was "is he meant to be this funny?" and the answer from this script is a resounding YES.

I think I might perhaps watch the 1968 stage production first, merely because it's available for free on Youtube (at least in the UK).

I might try hunting for a free streaming link to the 1967 film, though I don't mind renting it if I can't find it.

[omegaremix]

Cold Waves @ Warsaw; September 15 & 16, 2022.

If I told you that I was feeling shaky going into attending Cold Waves, you’d write me off instantly. Why would I still feel nervous about attending shows? Sure, the event is everything, but every trip to grandiose New York City is still a major thing for me. It’s still feels like uncharted territory and I’m still not over it but it has everything Long Island fails to provide: the venues, the people, the exciting energy, and an allure I still can’t put my finger on. It’s all for the taking, whereas on Long Island I had way more than enough. Also: anxiety. (Film at 5.)

I was only mere days away and I had to get ready for two straight nights of taking trains to and from Brooklyn. Cold Waves would be the third show I’d attend this year - fourth if I cared going to Ministry’s “Industrial” Strength tour which I didn’t go to. I was a frantic wreck anticipating this industrial legends / synthwave festival. The tremors in my black heart would stop only if I finally arrived at Warsaw. It’s my third visit there. The first was for Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary and the second was for Black Marble and Cold Cave on a hot June day - before my world, my momentum, and soul were all upended.

I don my black cap, a Clock DVA shirt, blue jeans, black boots and new black leather jacket. It’s sunny out, a hazy blue sky is being invaded by cumuluses all over the place - perfect conditions for an afternoon drive westward on the Long Island Expressway, down on Sagtikos Parkway, through Southern State to Rt. 231, and heading south to Rt. 27A to the Babylon station. I took no chances catching the earlier one-hour train to Penn Station, then hopped on the ‘E’ line to Court Square’s ‘G’ line to Greenpoint Ave. The train ride was bliss as hardly anyone was on it.

It was 6:15 PM when I stepped off the G and went upstairs to Greenpoint, my favorite Brooklyn neighborhood. It only took me 15 minutes to walk a few blocks down to Driggs Av. in Kings County’s Polish neighborhood. It’s only 6:30 PM and already I’m being greeted by a crowd of three at the very front of the line. One of them saw my DVA shirt and gave me two thumbs up. “Great shit, man!”, he said. I smiled and my heart rate went up 20.00% knowing I made the right choice of t-shirt for night #1 of Cold Waves. I found myself standing at the exact same spot on line more than four years ago when I waited to enter the venue for Cold Cave and Black Marble. It was that very corner where Wes Eisold stood with Genesis P. Orridge before that show. Doors open at 7 PM as all of us trudge towards the venue for our security checks before entering paradise where I’m immediately hit with the smell of incense, a special smell distinct to my Brooklyn travels and nowhere else.

The music existed before the beginning of time and it was pumping. No wonder - DJ Andi (Harriman) was behind the wheels of steel. She’s a fixture of the neighborhood where she fit perfectly with the industrialists and synth-wave demographic that populate there. With me being 15th in line, I won a spot up front. As always without fail. I was feeling great about what was about to go down for the next five hours. The first person I thought of was my Roman goth friend Lira* who I wished was there with me. She would’ve blended in with all these vampires, witches, and mistresses attending; many walking around wearing 242, Wax Trax, Pig, Pigface, Hocico, and Twin Tribes shirts.

7:45PM is here. The dee-jay fades out, the overheads turn off and the first act is ready to go. Cold Waves is finally underway.

Spike Hellis was the first of ten on the roster and kicked off the entire festival. The fresh Los Angeles duo have enjoyed a new sizable uptick of exposure. They were active and had lots of energy on stage; a theme that they’d set the tone for the entire program. Their fast-paced EBM, electro, and electronic hybrid was a fine example of the current sound that Los Angeles had to offer. Both Cortland Gibson and Elaine Chang traded instrumental and (screaming) vocal duties with each other while conveying themes of agony, control, rage, emotional despair, and submission that rubber-stamped their own pandemic-era, all accentuated at the end with an annoyed Chang dealing the finger to an audience member as the cherry on top. Who knows what happened there? What I do know was that someone threw an empty beer can at them during their set and security called him out on it; eyes and pointy fingers in his direction with a one-and-final warning not to do it again.

For those wondering why Rein is being highly praised all over, you’ll see why. One of two solo acts, Rein wasted no time taking the stage and it wasn’t long for her to show everyone why she’s one of the most talked-about synthwave acts of recent. It’s not just her razor-sharp EBM delivery and style but also her choreography which made her perfectly groove to the music. She can seriously move it like no other and also delivered plenty of hard-edged sounds of equal measure. It was more than enough to ask who the fuck Shakira was, because she’s got nothing on her. It wasn’t just Rein who was motioning to the music. I look to my right and seen a good number of people getting into it, too; such as the guy three spaces away from me who happened to be wearing a gas mask through her set. After she closed out her set came another intermission. The next three legendary acts have yet to come into play and right behind me are three belligerent drunks (one male and two females) fighting over who bumped into who, not saying ‘excuse me’, who stood where, and lots of name-calling and f-bombs lobbed at each other’s slovenly faces. Not a dull moment so far.

Portion Control was the third and most enduring act of the festival with their debut cassette release A Fair Potion dating all the way back to 1980. I’ve constantly heard of them through new-wave, industrial, and synthwave circles. It’s my first go at them and Wow. They. Nailed. It. They became one of the very few artists I ever discovered to give me a perfect example of everything I was looking for on the very first listen. Perhaps the hungriest, meanest, and venomous act I discovered live or not. I may have caught them at their best ever and it lead me to the three Seed e.p.’s. Onstage, Dean Piavanni was a vocally sinister, persuasive, and direct force who could’ve easily taken on the audience (and would’ve won); as Jon Whybrew was on the controls transmitting ultra-energetic and juiced-up EBM and industrial techno for the small masses. It was the most exciting payout of the night so far.

If there was ‘the’ reason that attending Cold Waves was an absolute must, it was the team of former Wax Trax and Ministry members Paul Barker and Chris Connelly. They are part of the reason why everyone had some of the best moments of their lives and made for some of the greatest industrial releases ever. Billed as The Revolting Cocks Corpse and in conflict with Al Jourgensen’s version of the band, it would be their last-ever appearance. I hate to admit, a scratch off the bucket list was long overdue and years in waiting. Now, here was my chance of seeing both of them live in one shot.

Want real-deal Cocks classics? You got ‘em. Paul Barker handled his iconic bass logo-ed with the Cocks’ Beers, Steers & Queers emblem on it before kicking off with “38” and brought out former Cock (Front 242’s) Richard 23 on vocals. After that comes Connelly onstage in casual wear in a trucker hat, jeans, and a shirt that’s scrawled “Strong And Pretty” on the front, so we’re getting the nutty version of him. Then the rest of the hits came rolling in: “Attack Ships On Fire”, “Cattle Grind”, “Crackin’ Up”. When Connelly asked himself out loud what else to play, the audience yelled “Let’s Get Physical” (rest in peace, Olivia Newton John). “Well, I didn’t ask for your help!” he said coyly to all of us and we couldn’t help but to laugh. They did cap off their monumental set with “Do Ya’ Think I’m Sexy” and it felt like a dream. Connelly leans on the speakers acting all cute and blowing kisses to the crowd with a smile. Before you know it, he’s laying on the floor with arms wide open like he’s just fallen in love as Barker and company call it a night. Nothing but good times and an ultimate culmination of their Wax Trax output as I hoped for.

Finally, it was Front 242’s turn to take the stage; the apex of an already high-flying night. It would be a bittersweet performance at that as this was one of many shows on what was their final U.S. tour. Many fans thought it was because of Jean-Luc De Meyer health issues but thankfully that wasn’t the case. No matter, it was everyone’s last chance in the states to catch them before leaving North America once and for all with no turning back. I considered Front 242 to be a bonus for me as I was heavily into their pioneering Eighties material during my community college years, their later albums, and C-Tec which De Meyer took part in. I had absolutely nothing to lose seeing them live. All throughout the night I’ve seen photographers-for-hire huddle around the space in-between the rail and stage getting their dozens of shots in. For Front 242, the three-song policy got extended to four. It had to be. Warsaw security managed to catch one snap artist who didn’t know better.“No flash! No flash!” they told him as they pointed at and called him out on it. Which also begged the question: where the hell is Brooklyn’s industrial / synthwave fixture-photographer Nikki Sneakers? It’s been at least five years since I’ve seen her shooting at venues.

Front 242 played their most-recognizable and popular classics that established and pioneered EBM with “Don’t Crash”, “Operational Tracks”, “U-Men” and many more. It was all Richard 23, De Meyer, and Patrick Codenys in their unmistakable iconic tactical outfits with a shirtless Tim Kroker on live drums. They took all the power and energy they had and kept it going all the way, delivering nothing short of a rhythmic and beat-heavy experience they were known for. One funny moment to be seen was when De Meyer stood cross-armed wearing his huge shades and had such a scowl on his face, looking all bad-ass as the other three carried on. After eight or nine songs, 242 left the stage - not to lock targets and catch men - but to gear up for their first encore. We all knew there was more to come and what came was “Headhunter”, one of industrial / EBM’s most historic songs ever written. Two more songs later and 242 left the stage again charging up for another encore. As soon as we all heard the soundbyte “Hey, Poor!”, it meant only one thing: “Welcome to Paradise”. Only then was the perfect Front 242 show complete. The team of 23, De Meyer, Codenys, and Kroker took in a lengthy applause and gave a standing ovation as they all thanked New York City and bid farewell. The lights turn on for all of us to head out of Warsaw. I turn around to get going and behind me I see a female fan being consoled by her husband - and she’s in tears. Either she finally fulfilled her life-long dream of seeing Front 242 or saddened that they would say goodbye and farewell to the states, never to return.

The first five acts were amazing. It felt like I did a great service to myself in attending. I already checked off all the boxes I wanted to: take mass transit, visit Greenpoint, see Barker and Connolly play, and be associated with my kind of people. A night out in Brooklyn never fails and the thrills would still continue after the show ended. There’s always the experience of taking the alphabet and number lines - taking the ‘G’ and then the ‘7’ line to walk from 10th St. towards the Empire State Building and then arriving at Penn Station all by one-in-the-morning. Like the ride from Babylon to Penn Station, the reverse ride was quiet and not as crowded as a can of sardines. More exhilarating was the ride from Babylon back home where all the roads were empty and quiet, leading up to driving east on a wide-open Sunrise Highway at three in the morning and getting home all in 25 minutes time.

Night One of Cold Waves was now in the record books.

**********

Friday afternoon? Well, what an adventure. I had no idea that traffic was literally paralyzed on Sagtikos Parkway. It was that point where I knew it would be down to the wire getting to the Babylon station. From then on, I was finding every inch I could to cut other drivers off, find detours, and get head-starts while waiting for green lights and cursing out turtle drivers. Traffic was tight and every decision counted. One minute I thought I was going to make it and the next minute I was doubtful. South on Commack Road, down Deer Park Avenue then Route 231, and finally to Route 27A where I was only a few thousand feet away from the station. I arrive at the parking lot across from the station, bolted out of my car, ran across the street and up the stairs like a motherfucker. I finally reach the platform and - it’s taking off. Fucking great.

I had one hour until the next train to figure out how to unfuck myself and get to Warsaw in time. I tried signing up for OMNY (New York City’s wireless transit pay) months ago but was unsuccessful. Now time to try again. I downloaded the Apple Pay app- and then had to call the bank to connect my card. Now that it’s tied to my phone, I tired again to sign up for OMNY. Success! The 4:35 PM Babylon train arrives and I had 55 minutes to map out the quickest path in getting to my destination. The train arrives at Penn Station and I waste no time hauling ass to the ‘E’ line. Here we go. I hover my phone over the turnstile and - GO. Raced up and down the flights of stairs and I catch the ‘E’ train by five seconds before its doors closed. I take another 20 minutes to cool down before the transfer to Court Square / 23rd Street’s ‘G’ line. I hop off, sprint, and find the ‘G’ train that would take me to the Nassau Avenue stop, the closest one to Warsaw. It took me about two minutes and 1,000 feet to get there. I finally arrive out of breath before I go through the security checks and magic wands before entry. All clear. It’s 7:40 PM. Five minutes to go and I’m at the exact same spot I was the night before. All worship to Lucifer that I made it.

And now, night two begins.

If there was any artist to kick off Friday’s festivities that represented his hometown and carried its flag, then Confines was it. The hard-hitting, beat-heavy industrial-techno / EBM project certainly had some punch to it. Like Rein, Confines was a one-person show who did all of his instruments and movements on his own. Not bad at all. At the time of this writing I learned something about him that totally kicked me off of my seat: Confines happened to be David Castillo, co-owner of Brooklyn’s Saint Vitus bar and venue, host of the Age Of Quarantine podcast, and lead singer of Primitive Weapons. Are you fucking kidding me?! I was on the lookout to spot him at my last visit to -Vitus to see Uniform but I was shit out of luck. Now I finally found him performing at Cold Waves and didn’t even know that was him until after the fact! Fucking right. And it doesn’t stop there. I also learned that both Geography Of Nowhere 1 and Work Up The Blood was mixed and mastered by Hospital Productions’ Kris Lapke / Alberich and laid out by Sannhet’s AJ Annunziata. Wow. Talk about getting five-in-a-row on that bingo card.

Fans of Vancouver musicks enjoyed a two-for-one approaching the middle of the night’s bill. We were all treated to Leathers consisting of Shannon Hemmett (vocals), Kendall Wooding (synths), and Adam Fink (drums). For anyone who wanted the 2022’s tense of what an Eighties’ synthpop / new-wave show would look like? Well, now you have it. It was a treat seeing them perform and also seeing the slender Hemmett as an Eighties dream while Wooding and Fink played a smooth mid-tempo set. But with a wardrobe change and Jason Corbett coming into play, Leathers became Actors and Artoffact’s flagship band was the iteration that appeared on everyone’s radar as of late. They traded in their Eighties’ synthpop and new-wave cool for heavier rock. This time Hemmett took over synth duties and Wooding wielded bass as Fink stayed on drums and Corbett helped Actors push more power and electricity into their second set to keep the excitement steady from start to finish. I tried out both Leathers / Actors before and for some reason they’re not my type of heavy-rotation listening. However, there’s no denying that their talent brought them their well-deserved fanfare and exposure.

Not since Merzbow’s personnel bringing out his gear at Output have I been bracing myself with another artist’s set-up. Lighting fixtures attached all over and bulbs placed in front of huge cymbals might’ve told me that the next set would burn my eyes right off my face. Luckily, I was wrong. That was Kite’s visual set-up and a precursor to their performance. The Swedish duo of Niklas Stenemo and Christian Berg were another act I never heard anything of, and afterwards tilted me to give them a shot. Both were skilled in playing two keyboards at once (or keys- and knobs in Berg’s case) as they delivered a lively performance and Stenemo a few kicks, switching between synth-wave and synthpop. Their latest single “Bocelli” was the highlight on the night, showing their dramatics while also providing a soulful, heartfelt, and at times acclaimed power.

While Kite tore down their equipment, I thought of something. It’s been five years since I attended Hospital Production’s 20th Anniversary. I remember one moment near the end of the showcase when Bone Awl was playing their set - where all of a sudden Dominick Fernow (Prurient and Hospital- label-head) runs to the apron, stage-dives over the pit, and into the audience for a crowd-surf. It was a moment that never escaped me since then. Here I am back again at Warsaw for Cold Waves five years later and I’m at the rail for both nights. During one intermission, something dawned on me - I look at the rail, then the edge of the stage, and then the rail once again. I thought to myself: how in the fuck did Dominick have enough clearance to fly in the air, avoid banging into the rail, and land safely on top of the crowd? Good thing he successfully pulled off that spectacular feat.

Asterisk: New York City was supposed to receive Stabbing Westward as the closer to Cold Waves but had to bow out. That’s where Cold Cave gladly stepped in and ultimately sealed the deal for Cold Waves’ entire New York City stop. “Remember when we last played here?” lead singer Wes Eisold asked the audience. Yes I do, Wes. Yes I do. Seeing Cold Cave again for the second time in the same venue was another special bonus to me, and always a welcome one at that. I walk through previously-ventured territory and this time it was just as exciting as the last. All hits and zero misses from Eisold, his lady Amy Lee, and company. “Glory”, “People Are Poison”, “A Little Death To Laugh”, “Confetti”, “Rainbow Girls”, “Godstar”, “Theme From Tomorrowland”. You named it, they played it. For 50 minutes they kept a steady upbeat energy of synthwave and classic goth pedigree; not to mentions tons of smoke and fog fired towards our way to where I’m seriously considering getting myself screened. The only difference between their 2018 appearance and this one at Cold Waves? No sign of Max G. Morton, and Eisold’s heroine Genesis P. Orridge who joined him on guest vocals had sadly passed away since then.

But there was one shining onyx that fit the head jewel of the crown: when Eisold and Amy Lee brought their daughter out on stage. How fucking amazing was that? The audience collectively melted. Imagine being in your single-digits and having an amazing story to tell your friends back in school about how your rock-star dad brought you up on stage to sing for the crowd. Through their entire set, Cold Cave never let up and missed any of their targets as Eisold, Amy, and the rest played through their last encore and that’s all they wrote.

Before I knew it, it’s 12:20AM. Cold Waves in New York City was now history.

**********

I walk out of Warsaw and away from the busy volume of the patrons standing around in front of it. The night skies changed their tune to a purplish overhead. They were nice enough to wait until my moment was over to return. I’m now processing how to put the last 48 hours into words and also my place in the universe after being where I wanted to be. I head west on Driggs Street through McCarren Park weaving through the pedestrians walking towards me and observe a few small groups of people congregating and chilling on park grounds with their portable speakers. It’s only a few more blocks before I enter the ‘L’ line that will connect me to the ‘2’ line.

If only I can tell you the city’s delights that I’ve seen during my travels to Penn Station. I’ve seen female torture artists and double-pigtailed mistresses in their black onesies and shiny knee-high boots. There’s an Asian girl my height in a low-cut purple dress and her thigh is all bloodied and bandaged up; situated below her very visible purple underwear. Across from me was this gay guy who was the stunt double for The Ukiah Drag’s Tommy Conte, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek and sad-gazing in his boyfriend’s eyes who boarded off the ‘L’, but not before he blew Tommy a kiss goodbye. Another couple hopped on our crowded car. His blonde girlfriend’s neck and chest were literally covered red with hickeys and didn’t give a soaring aerial fuck about all the eyes and stares aimed at her. The ‘L’ ends and I transfer to the quick ‘2’ which only took five minutes to get me to Penn Station, leaving me with a half-an-hour wait for the Babylon train to arrive. Lather, rinse, and repeat with a left-hand forward ride to the station and another Sunrise Highway night drive back to my quiet-as-night neighborhood. A return to silent normalcy.

**********

Chicago has been widely known as the industrial capital of the U.S. It’s where Jim Nash and Danny Flescher established Wax Trax as a record store and the label that’s given birth to the careers and legacies of Ministry, KMFDM, My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, Meat Beat Manifesto, and countless other acts. It’s also where Public Image Ltd.’s Martin Atkins created Pigface and Invisible Records and gave life to Chemlab, Damage Manual, Dead Voices On Air, Murder Inc., Ritalin, Sheep On Drugs, and Test Dept. All these artists made my identity, or part of it. Throughout the years I’ve followed all of my favorite artists and have never given up on them. They were there for me during my difficult times at community college and to this day I’ve never tired of their projects. It wasn’t until recently when I revisited the classics that I realized that these artists and labels were in my heart all along. Millions of industrialists join each other in various online groups to share their stories and live memories and say “hi!” to the many legends who lurk around and keep that cameraderie going. I see the company around me in Greenpoint who share similar interests, qualities, and aesthetics and those are the people I want to be associated with.

I thought attending just one Boy Harsher show was a rite of passage. Yes - more in the synthwave world. I’ve also attended shows for Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, and Killing Joke and that’s more than enough for me to hoist my flag for this genre. (Naysayers will wave their filthy unclean fingers at me and say “not so fast” because I wasn’t able to go to a Skinny Puppy show.) I’ve heard many great things about Cold Waves that I’d be a fool to miss out. Mutuals who went told me it’d be amazing and they were double-right. With Front 242’s final American appearances and with Braker and Connelly having to quit the RevCo name, this year was a non-negotiable. What started out as a one-night benefit and an honor of Jason Novak (Acumen Nation, DJ? Acucrack) and David Schock’s fallen friend Jamie Duffy evolved into an (almost) annual round of the best and legendary industrial, synthpop, and synthwave acts. Like my attendance with the previous Cold Cave and Black Marble shows, attending Cold Waves was a thank-you to the scene that gave me an identity but also to a certain number of acts that helped build it.

It’s been one of the best and most exhilarating moments of the year, ranking as high as Sacred Bones’ 15th anniversary. If the line-up for next year is as good or better (how could it?), then I guarantee you I’ll be returning.

[a-moth-to-the-light]

Most-Listened of January 2024

[last month]

Yeah, winter officially hit this month. Half of December was too Finals to be winter, and the other half was me reflecting on the year in music (so lots of 2023's most hard-hitting songs, which weren't exactly cozy winter music!). But in January, the snowy-gray-won't-leave-the-house mood actually hit--and I think it shows in this list (prepare yourself for LOTS of gloomy folk)! There were so many exciting releases this month, though, even though I couldn't muster up all that much energy about them--I'm really excited to see how the Sleater-Kinney, G-IDLE & Andrea Santiago albums will age!

1 . Boy's a liar Pt.2 -- PinkPantheress, Ice Spice

Yeah I sooooo get it now!! Like I don't fully get the lyrics, but it's so charming that I don't care! It's peak girl-next-door sweetness :)

2. BDH - Acústica Versión -- Bely Basarte

The first time I heard this, I wrote down: "Now THIS is how you do layered harmonies, cowards." I stand by my assessment—this is proof that acoustic tracks aren't boring, at least not when you give them a soundscape as beautiful as this one!

3. Tanta adrenalina -- Bely Basarte

This reminds me of the summer I was obsessed with Chung Ha's "California Dream"—even in January, I need some light, fluffy house in my life! (And yes, you can see that my Bely Basarte phase has kept going strong from last month!!)

4. Big Black Car -- Gregory Alan Isakov

I am a sad boy <3 (HOPE WAS A LETTER I NEVER COULD SEND !!!!)

5. Lost On You -- LP

I've been watching Loudermilk this month, and when I heard this song in the end credits of an episode, I instantly went to find it online. It's so wonderfully desolate, especially with those vocals... and the soft jingling of the guitar... *happy arm wave*

6. Southern Star -- Gregory Alan Isakov

Can’t stop singing this one—the melody is pure magic!

7. When the Party's Over -- Faux Paz

I like the original version better, but I'll never get tired of Faux Paz, either!

8. Ungrateful -- Megan Thee Stallion, Key Glock

Saw @shyreol post about this, and I'm so glad I decided to check it out (thank you for sharing)!! I'm absolutely obsessed with the hook—instant comfort song!

9. The Healing Game -- Van Morrison

Loudermilk part 2. This one hasn't even been played in the show yet, as far as I know, it just gets quoted by one of the characters—and deservingly, because these lyrics hit HARD. (And now I can cross 'liking a new Van Morrison song' off my music bucket list for the year—thanks, Loudermilk!)

10. Lalalala -- Stray Kids

This one has lost most of its appeal after a few weeks of listening, but it was very good noise to keep me sensory-happy during some rough weeks (and that ‘lalalalala’ hook is still great)! We'll see how it ages, I guess!

11. The Fall -- Gregory Alan Isakov

Speaking of Stray Kids, Isakov's lower register in this song is GLORIOUS.

12. Soldier, Poet, King -- The Oh Hellos

Believe it or not, I hadn’t heard of this one before December! It’s so good tho :)

13. What's Love -- Empress Of, MUNA

This sounds like the best parts of nighttime—it’s a little more muted than most synthpop these days, but it manages to stand out with just how ethereal it is! The production really just gets more beautiful with every listen—okay, maybe I just have a thing for vocoders…

14. La isla de Lesbos -- Javiera Mena

I don't really remember listening to this one in the past month? But I'm not mad about it being here—it's a classic in my book, because I can never say no to sparkly house music!

15. Smiley -- Yena, Bibi

An instant shot of energy, every time!! So glad I finally added Yena to my stan list, her music soooo deserves it!

Five-Star Songs This Month:

Ungrateful -- Megan Thee Stallion, Key Glock

Hell -- Sleater-Kinney (i mentioned how excited i was about this album right?? i love the texture of this song i love how it go grrrrr i love the line “hell is just a place that / we can’t seem to live without” !! i have a very good feeling about this one helping me get through the year SCREEEEEE)

BDH - Acústica Versión — Bely Basarte

Certainty -- Big Thief (this is what love is to me btw like i realized this month that i don’t think any other song has captured it better so here we are) (YOU LAY BESIDE ME / SLEEPING ON A PLANE / IN THE FUUUUUTUREEEEEEEE)

Was I Just Another One -- Gregory Alan Isakov (i listened to this allll the time in 2020, but i ended up developing a new appreciation for its atmosphere this month like good god i’m in awe GLOOMY FOLK GLOOMY FOLK IT IS A WASTELAND IT IS IMMACULATE EEEEEE !!)

[mywifeleftme]

195: Run the Jewels // Run the Jewels

Run the Jewels Run the Jewels 2013, Fool's Gold

Even as someone who was very hyped for this monster mash album to drop back in 2013, I could’ve used El-P and Killer Mike’s chances at becoming mainstream music stars as a creative simile for extreme remoteness. Run the Jewels started life as a Watch the Throne joke—e.g. while you pay obeisance to the supposed kings, we’re behind them jacking their shit. The name seemed right: any time you put Mike on a pop-adjacent track, he sounded too brash, too angry to fit the scheme, whereas El-P probably scanned to most listeners as like, Comic-Con Bubba Sparxxx or something. It remains bizarre to contemplate that El-P’s original crew, Company Flow, released their groundbreaking Funcrusher EP a year before Jay-Z’s Reasonable Doubt, and Mike had been OutKast’s war dog since the turn of the century. In other words, these were two rapper’s rappers who made a living on rhymes but didn’t seem likely to have say great prospects of retiring comfortably.

It just goes to show what a creative release strategy (Run the Jewels dropped for free at a time when that concept still had some novelty) and an absolute banger record can do for ya. After years of ambitious, CD-stuffing projects by both men, Run the Jewels is a trim 33-minute object lesson in the power of elite shit-talking. Ten years on their particular chemistry is fixed enough to be fondly roasted, but at the time I’d never heard either man rap as freely, or hilariously, as they did here. Some particularly treasured bars:

Woo, they done let that fuckin' Mike out It's like Tyson in the '80s Nigga snap and punch your lights out, yeah It's like Tyson in the '90s, if I'm losing, take a bite out I'm so motherfuckin' grimy, so motherfuckin' greedy, gritty Mama said she couldn't breastfeed 'cause I was bitin' at the titty — Mike

Yo, Killer Mike and El-P, fuck boys, think about it Fuck you gonna sell me? You don't know a thing about us Women dosed with ayahuasca drum circle and sing about us Dolphins prone to rape'll hear the tape and stop to think about it Monks will immolate themselves until the record hits the shelves Yetis walk right out the woods to cop it without thinkin' bout it Workers at the sweatshop kill they boss to how the vets drop Worker ants surround their queen and chew the bitch's head off Drug dogs bark at the tour bus when it park Priests take the cock out of their mouths To hum along when the chorus drop — El-P

It's time for Skywalker talkers t’meet the true Darth Vader I hit your mom in '03, but a G ain't ate her So baby boy, you should tighten up and show some respect Before I Melvin on you, Jody, put my arm on your neck Or worse yet, be the reason your girl want a divorce Be at her crib with your kids saying ‘Fuck your fort, lil' nigga!’ — Mike

Born to the next-gen system Slow water drip to the temple to live in a prison When the walls don't appear to your vision One floor down from that mall's that prison Where shower stalls'll get all y'all missin' Pardon me, I got half-wit vision But fuck I know? I just crawled here, cap'n — El-P

I'm fat but I dress nice, and bitches finesse Mike They suck the dick and squeeze on my belly like bagpipes — Mike

I'ma smoke 'til the planet erases Build a white flag out of Zig Zags, wave it — El-P

And so on. Alongside El-P’s signature production, limber and consistently knocking, it is the sheer “What will they say next?” pleasure of two elite battle rappers trading the mic back and forth (something that doesn’t happen on Watch the Throne as often as you might remember) that scratched the deep itch of boom-bap-bro nation. Over three more excellent LPs to date, they’ve expanded their sound and skewed ever more topical, but RTJ have never abandoned the template that made them unlikely stars. And for my money at least, it’s this first one that best stands the test of time.

195/365