#dillusion

[desktopdinosaur]

Y’all know the story of Galatea lol

[reap3r-bird]

taking comfort in the knowledge that one day I will just fucking die

[vasito-de-leche]

Did you played the recent Reverse 1999 (2.5)? If yes, what do you think about it?

I did! Even if I don't update this blog, I'm always up to date and also watch Merui's CN streams for future patches o7

2.5 is such a great patch to me because it reminds me of the format of the old non-main story patches from the 1.X series--a self-contained story that can be enjoyed on its own and sets up fun details for the main story but doesn't REQUIRE to watch it to PROPERLY understand the main story, unlike how you need to watch 2.0 and 2.1--two side events--to understand why the fuck Anjo Nala exists in 2.2--a main story patch.

All characters are so solid, whether they're NPCs or playables! One thing that always pisses me off about the 2.X series is that in most patches, it feels like only ONE of the new 6 stars gets the spotlight (think of Joe in 2.0, since Mercuria fucking DISAPPEARS from the plot halfway through, compared to Melania and Pickles in 1.1 or Lucy and Kakania in 1.9) or the 5 star gets SO FUCKING IGNORED for the entire patch (think of Barbara in 2.1 being literally irrelevant and having little to no screentime, compared to Blonney in 1.2 or Desert Flannel in 1.5. You can replace Barbara with any NPC that also belongs to UTTU, but you can't switch Blonney nor Desert Flannel for anyone else because of how important they are as themselves). But all three playables shine on their own and have extremely solid dynamics with each other, without being FULLY dependent on one another.

I didn't really care for Poitier and Liang Yue when I first saw 2.5 when it released in CN, but now that I could experience the entire event on my own, I LOVE THEM TO BITSSSSSS. Poitier ended up being so fun and solid mentor figure for Liang Yue, and Liang Yue turned out to be such a compelling character EVEN without the need for her character event. Loggerhead was such a treat too and Noire's entire story is so interesting. It's such a solid patch and I miss when events were like this, instead of half-assed attempts at piecing together the main story while sacrificing the core of the patch orz

I'm so excited for them to follow up on ANYTHING related to Matilda and her mother, or Black Ibis on the Vigiles Bureau. And I HOPE they do follow up on these things AFTER they're done with all the shit happening currently with Igor and Urd and Laplace

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

My biggest point of confusion when it comes to the fandom reaction to Skeleton Crew is how people can go into a story that's adapted from Treasure Island and act surprised when the character named after John Silver ends up being a dick to the kids.

[renlyslittlerose]

Back on my Cyberpunk bullshit

[yudgefudge]

Who do you think is the ‘dad’ of the Man Utd team? 🤔

everyone knows these are the papas of united

[camilla-ssasjj]

Im so thrown off because most these are just minecraft sprites except the tnt so i have to look back at them all and am skeptical of my own reasoning.

[gusdeservedbetter]

You know what isn't a crime, but definitely should be one? The casual mischaracterization of Sentry in fan content. I'm so done😭

1. I hate how he's often depicted as cruel, he's not, look at him, fucking look? And when Ava asks about the hair dye, what does he do? He looks to Val for an answer, he's constantly fidgeting, trying to find an out for the bunch of misfits who previously helped him in the vault.

2. I hate how people try to turn it into a Marc Spector, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley situation when it's. Like. Not?? This is such a disservice to both Moon Knight and The Sentry, and real people who relate to the two characters' (very distinct very different) mental health issues. Bob doesn't have DID, if anything, the movie leans towards him being bipolar. Sentry is Bob, the guy literally tells Yelena in the vault that he has high highs and low lows, the high is Sentry, the low is the Void, that's it. Bob is both Sentry and The Void. What's so hard to understand? It's the mania (Sentry), followed by depression (Void) then he forgets. That's how Bob describes it in the first act of the film, that's how it happens in the third act.

3. This is not a contradiction to point 1, but Sentry is unhinged. He is awkward and somehow soft spoken? But he is unhinged, and invincible, and fucking terrifying. I'm tired of the stoic depictions in fics like🙂‍↔️ idc if you wanna write fics for comic Sentry, just don't tag them as mcu stuff. (WHO AM I KIDDING COMIC SENTRY IS FUCKING SCARYYY STOP THE BABYFICATION)

4. He is not evil (the fact that we have to spell this out... media literacy is truly dead huh), no shit the Thunderbolts* will be scared of him, of course they will be– he kicked the ever-living shit out of them. But he's not malicious, he doesn't use unnecessary force. Call it condescending, but he's going easy on them, toying with them, and deals arguably softer blows to Yelena, John and Ava, the trio he already met at the vault (because he's the same person, yk? jesus)

5. Prespective is a thing, the team wasn't there to see Sentry tell Val he doesn't want to kill them (they're no threat to him), it's the root cause of their disagreement, it leads to the New York Blackout TM, but we, the audience, were. So tell me why the fuck do I see stuff with this guy terrorizing that team for no reason? 😭 bfr guys.

6. So what? So while I can buy you showing me Ava or John or Alexei or Bucky or Yelena being fearful of the Sentry, or Val (hahaha eat shit Val), I simply can't get behind him actually being a threat to them, on purpose and beyond swatting them like flies, because hi hello have you seen the movie? Yeah.

7. Have I mentioned Sentry is unhinged? Yeah. Yeah. We got glimpses of it with Val before Mel pressed the kill switch but!! Sentry!! Is!! Unhinged!!

8. Find a middle ground, he doesn't have to be uwu or straight up satan or stoic as a rock, he is Bob in mania, so that's inherently Bob with high levels of energy and a higher self esteem (more like a GODLY EGO) and impulsivness and dillusions of grandeur (except they're not dellusions anymore? So rip), so do with that what you will.

Fingers crossed for more in-character Sentry content, at least the Sentry depicted by Lewis Pullman, who put his all into this performance but whose character is still somehow misunderstood? Anyways.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

[serosfan]

All I’m saying is at the current rate we’re going, I’ll be around 28 when we meet Yamato.

Yamato is canonically 28.

IM JUST SAYING.

[thatwavephenomenon]

There's something about a Surana/Amell who is dillusioned with the Chantry, who is like "Falling in love with a Chantry sister? Really, Jowan?" and then. Who can't help but fall for Leliana as well.

[threebea]

Anakin wasn't dillusioned with the Jedi to the point he became Darth Vader.

Palpatine was trying to seperate Anakin from the Jedi and make them suspicious of Anakin and make Anakin resentful of them, yes, but it wasn't to make him want to kill all Jedi. He wanted to make sure Anakin had nowhere to turn about Padme by playing on Anakin's fears and insecurities.

The Council won't give him the rank of Master. Anakin brushes off Padme's suggestion that Obi-Wan could help them. "We don't need him."

Anakin resents the Council for not making him a Master and he resents the request to spy on Palpatine, but he tells Mace that Palpatine is the Sith. He doesn't show up later because he's trying to figure out if the Jedi are the real villains for doing a coup, he's worried that if Palpatine dies he won't be able to save Padme.

And during the confrontation Anakin is fine with arresting Palpatine. He tries to argue for Palpatine's life despite Palpatine actively shooting force lightning because if Palpatine dies he can't get the Sith secrets he has.

The reason Anakin hates the Jedi comes from two places:

⭐

1: he had to kill a bunch of them during order 66. Like during the slaughter of the Sand People he's blaming everyone but himself. It's the Council's fault, it's the Jedi's fault, they all deserved it. Even the children. If they had done xyz I wouldn't have to kill them.

2. Obi-Wan, who Anakin views as the epitome of what a Jedi is, who Anakin cares about on a personal level 'betrays' him and leaves him to die in lava. Anakin cares more about personal relationships than ideology and even then it's all fear based where he worries about loss. He loses Padme, Obi-Wan leaves him, all he has left is Palpatine. And once again he's blaming Obi-Wan for Obi-Wan betraying him and ignoring the fact he just slaughtered Obi-Wan's family. He thinks he should matter more than everything else... Even though he was actively trying to kill Obi-Wan moments before.

Vader knows what Palpatine is, but Vader is locked into hatred.

It's far easier to convince yourself your victims deserve it while being a darksider than knowing they were innocent and still being turning back to the light. Being a darksider is selfish. It's about what you feel and the power you have. The Jedi deserve to die because I hate them. Not the Jedi died because I was afraid of loss.

And this is the thing the Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan describes to Luke was real. He was a good man, he was Obi-Wan's best friend, but Anakin was afraid and in the moments where it matters he falters. A good person becomes twisted and evil because of their own fear. That's the Darkside.

[lunastorta-illustra]

professional yappers 🗣️

how I imagine people see me and my friend @dillusion-art having our snack time 🍪

IG: @lunastorta_illustra

[unfathomableid]

I don’t really think HH’s version of Lucifer is supposed to be “evil”, I mean he still wears white, looks very much like an Angel and hasn’t yet shown a (demonic) form(correct me if I’m wrong) I think this Lucifer is a lot like Charlie in that he gave humans the knowledge of good in evil maybe to prove that humans would ultimately choose good and when that experiment went up in smoke his punishment was to “fall” and rule over the lost souls he seemingly caused(I need to rewatch the first episode). I think this disillusioned him and he takes a lot of responsibility for failing with blind faith. The whole time he talks to Charlie about hell is very much like a disillusioned person who’s failed and given up and decided to accept that. That being said I think apathy can be considered quite bad. (Theres also the show alluding to his depression and that he only works on ducks that he also thinks aren’t any good, closed away from literally everything and being so unfuctional as to not go to meetings etc, or be much of a ruler outside of name and yet unseen power[there also might be some “I can play the hero” here in some respect as to wanting to help Charlie with the hotel. I think he might like to see himself as a hero, but be unable to cope with failure and continuing on, Charlie might get her continued stubbornness from her mother]) We already know the show is messing around with the idea of “what makes someone good” and “heaven is corrupt” (like how the hell is Adam, who is consistently shown in the show as being pretty awful and probably more deserving of being in hell in heaven? By virtue of being the first soul???) interested to see where they go with Lilith, if we get to meet her this season what she’ll be like and what that will show us about the whole relationship dynamic, there’s also the very vague concept of…god? Like what’s he doing? In fact the way they kind of wrote out Lucifer has reminded me of some interpretation of g-d in other media so that’s something I found kind of interesting.

I think where hazbin hotel fails the most in Lucifer for me is that world building and narrative wise he just … doesn’t work.

I don’t know if Lucifer in HH is based off of much better and higher regarded works with his same name - such as paradise lost - so maybe you’ll find my comparisons unfair, but trust me.

I think my biggest criticism is, I don’t think being a dreamer or different is enough to be kicked from hell. In paradise lost, Lucifer insights REBELLION, cleverly building up the 1/3 of heaven he tempted and brought down with him when they lost the war. In HH, there’s no war, and seemingly he falls by himself with Lilith? So where did the other deadly sins/princes come from???

And if Lucifer is seriously so wimpy why is he king of hell? I can see the argument in that, no, Lilith did it! But if she’s really that evil, why didn’t she usurp him? Or like … kill him? It plays into Vivziepops common trope of ‘ pathetic dad wife ruins everything :(‘.

And really? That ruins a lot of stake in the story. Because now Charlie/the hotels biggest enemy is just heaven. Imagine how actually interesting the show was if the writers were competent with his character? In a rushed hypothetical, imagine a Lucifer who’s disappointed in Charlie because hell is his empire. He built it with Lilith after his fall and to him - he could be so strong heaven has to eliminate overpopulated sinners. And his heir threatens to ruin that.

And that’s just one of the many ideas that could’ve been used with the ‘ Daddy issues’ angle of Lucifer! He’s such a poetic and complex character in literature, and how HH portrays and uses him is a disappointment in comparison.

And while I’m aware HH isn’t aiming to be the next Devine comedy, I don’t think that excuses bad and lazy writing. I don’t know what happened in the writing room but I honestly preferred the pilot — especially the scene where Charlie is ALONE and calls her mom first because she’s so anxious that she’ll fail and it’s reaffirming what Lucifer told her.

This is getting very long winded, but in summary, I don’t think HH Lucifer works because he removes a lot of stake, interest or any potentially cool world building because he’s been reduced to ‘ ducky loving loser twink’ or a Charlie 2.0.

[ornsteinbignaturals]

What if the Old Dragonslayer in DS2 was a dillusioned, tired old Ornstein - who decided to fuck everything, fuck his knightly pride and codes and every Anor Londo bullshit to seek the Firstborn?

And what would the Firstborn choose:

- a young, rigid, upstanding Ornstein who can't choose between his two kings

- or an experienced, defiant, untethered Ornstein who now fully embraces the fact his heart lies with the Firstborn (and may or may not corrupted by the Abyss)

Answer under the cut

Trẻ con mới chọn người lớn lấy tất

[darlingofvalyria]

An abandoned church made most of broken wood and whimpering winds becomes a momentary resting sanctuary for Uhtred and his men— Osferth finds himself with a crooked root in the shape of a hand, a gold ring, and a full, blue moon.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ COCK WORSHIP, ORGASM DENIAL ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,830 ] [ masterlist ] | Osferth x Ghost Bride!Reader

contains— smut, fluff, angsty-ish - corpse bride!au - this is not the N word okay, you're a ghostly being that becomes corporeal. it's monsterfucking, not that kind of filth - no use of y/n - mentions of christianity lol - dillusioned!reader (if you know the movie, you know) - mention of character death - nsfw: sort of dubcon, smidge coercion, cock worship, orgasm denial(?) - no betas.

a/n— ok, but i am actually very proud of this one!! i enjoyed writing this way too much, adding a bit of comedy aspect to it shdhs. i hope you enjoy it!! oh, also this is the vibe you want if you wanna listen. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

His pack rests behind him, the couple of bundled furs he uses for bedding has hardened into the cold ground, not at all aiding his sleep. Around him, his lord and the rest of the men had managed to fall into their dreams, almost as soon as they closed their eyes.

Even Finan, with a furrow in his brow and his arms crossed, has his head tilted awkwardly to one side that Osferth knows is going to be painful in the morning.

But sleep evades him, and though he scarcely believes in ghosts, resting in a church, no matter how abandoned, no matter that there's gaping, charred hole that has blown over the side of it, trickling the cold, winter winds and soft, wet snow— it feels odd.

It brings a restlessness and a comfort all the same, and with a few minutes more of staring at rotting wood and broken awning, Osferth sighs. Their small fire is dying, might as well get more dry sticks.

The church, though broken and ruined, offers warmth. Once he's out into the wintry night, the pale moonlight bright and full, glittering the wisps of fluffy snow as if you don't come out wet if you sink on it. It's cold. Much too cold to walk, to linger, but he continues. He winds to the other side, leisure in his pace, breathing in the cold whilst warming his hands with his mouth.

It's nice to find a rhythmic motion that empties his thoughts. It is nice to be out of Wessex, out of familiarity. Uhtred brought with him adventure and battle, honour and excitement. It quieted the wrought in his head... until night comes, and Osferth is left with the weight of all those he tries to bury.

He walks quite a bit, observing and carries a faint sadness for a few graves that are left. Some opened, unearthed by grave robbers, uncaring of the Christian faith. Wooden plaque holding no names, just crosses. He moves past, finding himself entering the forest before he could think through it until he comes across a clearing. It's surprisingly, perfectly circled, trees at the side adjusted like soldiers with a curled root at the centre.

Curious and kind of awed at nature, at the wonder of the existence this little tree root, curled and cold, he dips one knee as flutters his fingers over it. The thin spindles look like curled fingers, a hand reaching in a hooked angle.

When he pushes his hand forward, curling his fingers against the root, Osferth makes a surprised hum at how fitted, how perfectly it holds like a hand against his.

Osferth doesn't notice you, dancing between the shadows and moonlight. Hit by light and you fade with it, more air and light yourself than life and physical flesh. You had seen him and his men find the scarred church and setup camp. The four men had not been the first to find the abandoned place, nor had taken refuge.

And time is everlasting when you're dead. Meaningless when there is no end to days and nights.

But he is different, you muse, watching him unable to sleep and walk and walk until he reached the clearing and your cold, dead heart feels a tug.

Does he know you? Is that why he is so different?

You slink between trees, hiding behind a trunk as you watch him kneel where your body lies, curious and awed, watching as he holds your hand, curling his fingers around your own.

Your left hand flexes, a surprised giggle falling from your lips and disappearing with the wind as you feel his warmth. His hand as if he is holding your own. Human touch fades from memory in a span of time and it is a pleasant hold.

Look down, you try to say, excitement you've never felt before, thrums through your body. Look down and see the ring!

If he does, you know do not need to know who he is. You know who he will be.

Look down, look down, look down! Please! you are practically screaming, jumping in the shadows as his eyes, beautiful blue like your favourite butterfly, is entranced by the glint underneath the snow. You hold your hands to your chest. Oh, please! Please, Please look down!

You exhale, feeling life sweep back into your mouth. There. There you are, you say soundlessly as he picks it up. A gold band worn with age but gold it still is. He twists it around, and though others have tried to steal it, pocket it and sell it, you know he is different. His warmth is different. There is kindness in his eye that you like.

And God, is he pretty. You would not mind at all being his bride.

You're on one knee, now propose, you say, willing the vows of old and binding to reach his ears. He twists it and as if playfully entranced, he mutters the words that you echo back in the shadows.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Osferth murmurs, the words he's listened once as a young boy, hearing the priest anoint two lovers who had escaped to bond their love. "Your cup shall never be empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."

He raises the ring and places it on your crooked, dried fourth finger�� and you inhale air, wintry and cold and so, so alive for the first time in a very long time.

"And with this ring," he says.

"I ask you to be mine," you finish, startling Osferth as you glide toward him. Triumphant. He stumbles, falling on his bum as your arms widen around you in all your ghostly bride attire and glory. "My love! I have waited for you for such a long time. Good thing the ice and winters have been kind to my body and you still manage to find it!"

Though in truth, you had plowed against hard ground to at least unearth your left hand while most of your body had been abandoned. Your skull had cracked in three places, and there's a worm who made a permanent home in your dried liver. But your new husband does not need to know that.

He gapes at you, wide eyed and unblinking, and just as he starts you yell? Shriek— You stumble to him, falling on his lap as you press your hands against his mouth. When you don't pass through him, you let out an excited shriek.

"Oh, my apologies, I don't mean to scare you!" You pout, aged old sadness wisps beneath your eyes. "Please don't scream, my love. I have waited for you for so long. And you're so warm... and so real."

As shock permeates his face, frozen under the feel of you pressing against him— there is weight, he can feel you. You're not as warm as him, cold in fact, and he is able to see through you if his eyes adjust well enough. But you are there. He can see you and he can feel you. Your wide, unblinking eyes drinking him in, exuberant smile composed of pretty lips and a mesmerising happiness. Your hair cascades around a ruined, fluttering veil with dead flowers atop your head.

But by God, you are beautiful.

Your wedding dress— because you are a bride, are you not? Were a bride, Osferth's head is starting to ache from trying to look through and at you — are in tatters and holes, showing more of your skin than what your dress initially thought to show and he swallows. He can see a creamy thigh exposed through a slash. It doesn't help that you're bent over, resting between his legs, and he can see the top of your breasts.

On your end, your hands are just there, on his face, and you start exploring his pretty visage. His warmth is addicting, gliding your fingers through his nose and pretty cheekbones, tickling yourself on his lashes with the pads of your fingers and you giggle. The sound makes Osferth exhale shakily before you are cupping his sharp jaw and your fingers touch his lips, your own mouth turning into an 'O'.

Oh, they're soft and a little chapped, a little cold, but his exhale entrances you. His show of pure, breathing life is tantalising.

You lean in closer, nearly touching his lips with your own as you try to inhale his air. He smells of smoked meat and dried ale. Winter woods and burnt campfire. Your hands drift from his mouth to his neck, to his chest. His heart. There in your palms, you press tight. A quickened heartbeat nestles beneath and you exhale, smiling ruefully.

"My husband." Osferth's eyes widen at the pure adoration and lust in your gaze. "You are wonderful. My wait is worth it."

"Hold on, l-lady." He captures your hands in his, eyebrows furrowed. He swallows as he can feel you both corporeal and wispy. If shadows can be held, he thinks it would feel like this. "H-How am I your husband? Sorry, I've— I don't even know your name!"

What's more is that you're a ghost! But something in his head tells him not to speak aloud such a thing, for another, he isn't sure he hasn't fallen back in the encampment with the others. A bizarre dream of a very pretty, ghostly bride is for one an embarrassing topic to broach.

"Oh. That's right!" You giggle happily, offering your name and Osferth tests in his tongue. A pretty name for a pretty bride. "What's yours? Though, I'm afraid I prefer to call you husband, and would prefer to be called your wife. Or 'your love'."

At another helpless, tinkling laughter, Osferth blushes. Your eyes are distracted by the colour in his cheeks, so long ago contained your own but no more, that you take your hands from his and start petting the rosy tint again. He's so warm that you start nuzzling into him, your head burrowing into his neck.

"O-Osferth." He clears his throat to get your attention. "Osferth, lady."

"My wife."

"Sorry?"

You start to pout. "Call me 'my wife'."

Osferth starts to shake his head. "Lady, I really don't—"

"I am your wife now. See." You sit up, pointing back to your dead hand, gold ring glinting under the pale moon. "You've made your vows and given me the ring. We're married now." Your gaze darkens, your form shimmering and Osferth yelps as you had gotten ice cold. "You have made your vow, Osferth. Are you telling me you do not honour your vows? Are you a man without honour? Is there another... woman?"

Your hands on his face sharpened, like ice, digging through his skin as iff trying to embedded yourself into his skull. He cries out, taking your wrists.

"No, no! I— yes, I am your husband now. I am. There is also no other woman!"

You cock your head, still frowning. "Are you sure?"

"I'm wearing monk's robes, lad— wife," he says helplessly.

"But..." You cock your head to the side. "You don't seem too shock of a woman's body. You're very responsive to me, my love, I enjoy it quite so."

This time, he blushes deeply. "I— Goodness, okay. I've had practice... s'all."

"With... whores?"

He cringes, waiting for you to turn mad, pure ice cold and tear through his skin like you almost did, but you only hum when he nods.

"That is alright. That presents more of a challenge than an obstruction of our love."

"Challenge?" he asks as you gently push him on his back, straddling his hips. You slide your palms up and down his torso almost as if he is a campfire and you are warming your hands.

He swallows at your confident grin before you blow him a kiss and he exhales a laugh, his mind truly unconnected from his body because there is a ghostly woman on top of him, adoring him with flirtations, and he is stirring in his pants.

Truly, he must be deep asleep, in a more awkward position than Finan.

If I am, he thinks watching you with a blossoming attachment. Please, by God, don't wake me.

With a seductive intent, you slide down from his body, making sure you pay a special wiggle in his tenting manhood that he feels a lightning bolt from his cock to the ends of his nerves. He doesn't truly understand what you intend until you've unlaced him and paying special attention to his now, semi-erect appendage.

Osferth is red and sputtering, unable to find the strength to stop you.

You get your face impossibly close to his manhood, your unbridled attention makes his cock inflate until you test a teasing finger from beneath, circling his balls, up and up until you tease the slit and his hips jolt.

"G-God, Oh goodness," he spits, white knuckling his woolen coat. "Please do something. D-Don't just—shit." You test a tongue, laving the underside of his cock until pearly white essence beads from his slit and you lick it experimentally. It tastes salty, inexcusably human and alive, and you decide you like it, especially when you watch Osferth writhe, unable to decide what to do from such teasing little touches.

"Good thing for you husband, your wife made sure to serve a keen listen to gossiping wives behind the church after mass. Well before the raid burnt it all down." You got yourself comfortable between his thighs, loving how snugged you fit against his warmth here, as well as having a beautiful of view of your Osferth. "They spoke salaciously of what keeps their husbands to their beds."

You give him a wink as you enclose your hand on his cock, giving it a firm tug and he chokes. "To keep the whores away." You start slow and teasing, wanting to see what movements pleased him the most, what made him sigh and groan, jolt, hips chasing the feeling of your hand that started to warm and get wet, both from his excitement and the teasing licks you give.

When he started panting, you took your hand away. His head bobs back adorably at you, frowning. "W-Wife? Wha—" But you don't let him finish, sitting up on your hunches as you replace your hand with your mouth, feeling the stretch as he throws his head back again, neck arched. It doesn't hurt, momentarily uncomfortable as you test the feeling of it, the weight now so full in your mouth before you start moving up and down, eased by the slick and guided by his pretty sounds.

And Osferth has been on the brink of peak multiple times, but you kept stopping or slowing midway. At first, he surmised it must be your first time, unused to a man in your mouth but eager to give him pleasure, which he can't help but feel deep fondness for.

By the third peek he's been deprived off, and the little smirk playing on your lips, he realised the truth. But your mouth is a different story. It's hot and heady, just like a real mouth and his stomach is clenching, his pleasure tightening that he's got tears in his eyes, apologising as his hips chase his high in your throat but by the rumble that rocked his cock, it seems as if you were trying to tell him it was okay.

When you started massaging his stones, he was gone. White hot pleasure broke behind his eyelids that he grabbed your head, your veil and hair, dead flowers falling into light as he came, hips stuttering, before holding you down until the last drop of his spend is in your mouth.

He releases you with apologies, chest heaving with tears in his eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, lady, I— inexcusable." He stared gently cleaning your face, unable to realise how much more solid you had become, how much more colour bled in your ghostly blue.

But as you sit back up, you're grinning, unmistakable pride in your gaze as he wipes the corner of your mouth tenderly. You take his fingers before he wipes it on his trousers, coated in him, and licks them clean, sucking hard with a little giggle.

"Good boy," you say. Osferth shudders, his cock already painfully stirring once more.

The Lord have mercy on him. Were there ghostly vixens? Did he marry the only ghostly vixen?

He can't say he's too mad about it.

"Hmm. So that's what it tastes like. I think I like it." You smile, rubbing his thigh. "I also think we are going to have a fruitful marriage, sweet Osferth. What we only need now is one thing..."

He blinks at you. "Hm?"

"Death, my love." You blink back at him owlishly, snapping the dagger strapped to his side. "How can we stay together when one of us breathes?"

Christ, I already have an idea for part two...

[mizusjawline]

Aliens: So explain "money" to me again

Society: No Problem! This is what money looks like

Aliens: It's just pieces of metal and paper

Society: Objectively speaking, yes. However through a collective dillusion shared by the entire world, it is assigned value.

Aliens: Ok, weird. But every culture has its quirks

Society: "Money" is a base necessity for survival. It is required to aquire food, shelter, education and medical treatment.

Aliens: Then surely "money" is distributed evenly across the population, right? So that everybody can access food, education, shelter.....

Society: Fuck no!

Aliens: Wut?

Society: We have people who live in "poverty" and people who live in "wealth". Impoverished people have vastly less than the minimum required for survival. And wealthy people have vastly more than the maximum required for survival

Aliens: You are working hard to redistribute that surpluss "money" from the wealthy to the impoverished???? Right????????

Society: Nah

Aliens: But if I've understood you correctly, without "money", people living in poverty will struggle to survive!

Society: That's their problem! You see, we need "wealth" and "poverty" to brainwash people into contributing to the capitalist work machine

Aliens: ....

Society: We tell them "If you want to become wealthy, you must work" and "If you don't want to become impoverished, you must work"

Aliens: ....

Aliens: ....

Aliens: This planet sucks, let's go find a different one