#for what reason? not any in particular it had just become a ritual of the sorts somehow

[ohitslen]

Life update! A shit ton of projects LQNWKKQ in between breaks I’ve been doing some of the things I wanted to get around to tho!

• Finished cleaning the first chapter of the next fic im planning (the reincarnation one!)

•Almost done with the interlude fic (not an actual interlude, im gonna finish easy to care easy to love soon, this thing and then the incarnation one so yeah the in between fic if you will ) of Vash getting a little upset, just a little, a tiny bit 🤏

•Almost done with the next update for “Easy to care, easy to love” (scheduled for this weekend!)

Aaaaand that’s about it! Thanks 🏃‍♀️

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Kinktober Day 6: Cockbulge

Pairings: Inui x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, demon!reader, sub/bottom!Inui, sorcerer!Inui, size difference, teratophilia, overstimulation, mind-breaking, dacryphilia, blood from neck biting briefly

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Author's Note: This ended up being very different from my original concept (and also way longer than intended) but I hope you enjoy what it turned out to be! :D Keep an eye out for this AU in a future kinktober installment 🤫

Inui was well aware of the dangers that this particular ritual held. Sure, any summoning ritual could go awry and become trouble quickly, but this spell was especially fickle. One tiny mistake or missed detail and he could summon something unwanted, possibly some eldritch creature that would destroy every known universe, but to him, the risks were worth it

He had spent so much time meticulously studying the circle that he'd need to draw, which materials you needed to place around said circle, offerings you were supposed to make, and even studying another language to learn how to pronounce the incantation correctly. Everything should be fine, it would all go perfectly and he would get what he wanted with no problems...

...He said to himself, sweating profusely as his arms carrying the backpack full of spellcasting materials trembled... Nevertheless, he marched onwards, deeper into the dark forest where you were supposed to carry out the ritual

Inui found the spot that he needed, a small clearing in the woods where the grass was noticeably softer and the breeze seemed calmer, where the only red flowers grew within the entire forest. This was where he began prepping for the ritual, casting the intricate circle with dried herbs, flowers, and crystals. Fixing several candles around the pattern and lighting them before stepping away to pull out his book of incantations, reading over the lines and practicing in his head. He waited about an hour, just as the instructions mentioned, before standing up and facing the circle. Taking a deep breath, he began the chant, repeating it three times as he walked around the summoning circle

He then put his book away and returned to the circle, stripping off his robes before laying down in the center, announcing his offering to the demon, “In return for your arrival and services, I have brought an offering of... myself. My flesh, my mind, and my soul are yours to do with as you please. Now, come forth!”

Tonight, Inui was uncharacteristically impatient. Normally he had no problems waiting for summoned creatures to appear, or waiting for spells to take effect. Tonight's spell, however, was very special. The being that he was desperately attempting to summon was a demon of lust, not an incubus or succubus, mind you. This was supposed to be leagues above those kinds of demons. And He was rumored to only appear before men that He found exceptionally attractive, which is what made this ritual difficult to find. Most of the sorcerers that committed to this summoning had no results, the demon refusing to come forth for anyone within the last 300 years, give or take...

Many people regarded this spell as nothing more than a hoax, claiming that it had probably become lost in translation somewhere and that was the reason it never worked. Some of the world's most handsome and skilled sorcerers attempted the summoning with no luck, so the magical realms deemed the spell to be fraudulent, because who wouldn't find these men attractive? That's what they all said, anyways. But Inui was tempted by the promises that this spell makes. Promises of "pleasure unlike anything this Earth could ever provide." And, "A love that no other could provide." These were loose translations of course, but Inui was tempted nonetheless. Hoping that if he was the one to finally summon the demon after all of these years, the other sorcerers would have to acknowledge his work, no longer able to poke fun at him or disregard his magic

He had other motivations for this summoning as well. The prospect of demon sex was very tempting...and since it was this demon's specialty, why not dedicate an entire year to studying the ancient books to bring this fantasy to life?

-

Inui's mind wandered as he awaited the creature's arrival. He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze glide through his hair and brush against his bare skin, his mind conjuring up scenes of what he imagined the demon would do to him. If it has claws, would it use those to scratch his delicate skin, drawing blood and licking it up with it's long tongue? If it has sharp teeth, surely it would sink them into Inui's tender flesh, marking him as it's human toy. And what about it's size, surely the demon would want to shove it's monster cock deep inside of him?

Inui began to squirm, his skin felt impossibly hot, as if he was on fire. His back arched as a single moan slipped out of him, rubbing his thighs together as his cock began hardening from the lewd thoughts. Suddenly, his hips burned, not in a painful way though, in a way that caused him to moan out once again

“My, aren't you an adorable little thing~ ” A low voice purred into Inui's ear, impossibly hot breath hitting his neck as a shiver crawled up his spine. His eyes snapped open to find a large creature hovering over his body, it's hands firmly gripping his hips and haunting yellow eyes boring into his, visibly glowing in the darkness of the forest

Inui wanted to say something, but the words died in the back of his throat, only able to gasp and pant as the demon loomed over his comparably small frame. “What's wrong, little one? Too stunned to speak?” A small noise escaped from Inui involuntarily, unable to process that this was actually happening. “Oh, darling, I hope you're not afraid of me now?”

Inui shook his head, not wanting the demon to leave him. “Good, good. ” It chuckled, brushing it's slender fingers against his cheek, trailing it's touch down the human's neck, smiling when Inui arched his back again, squeaking out some cute response and tilting his head up to expose his neck further

-

You slowly licked your lips, leaning down and grazing your sharp fangs against Inui's sensitive flesh, causing him to flinch and gasp. Gently kissing his neck, your hands traveling to his stomach and trailing your fingers downwards, stopping at the base of his dick. Inui whined in response, raising his hips up a bit to chase the addictive touch. Desperately wishing you would wrap those hands around his cock and–

“Already excited, are we?” Purring, you tapped his fully erect cock, eliciting a tiny noise from Inui. “Such a horny little thing, I haven't even touched it yet. Are you desperate for this kind of attention, sweet thing? Is that why you summoned me? ” You teased, baring your fangs and growling, just as hungry with lust as the sorcerer was. Depraved from worthy offerings for centuries now

“Take m-me...please...” Inui whispered. Spreading his thighs for you. You cocked an eyebrow at the request, the sorcerer's tone was meek, but you could sense the sincerity behind his words. Humming, you brushed a hand through Inui's hair, and he leaned into the touch, looking up at you through pretty blond lashes

“This is what you want, human? Once we start, I will not stop until you are marked with my seal. Are you certain that you can handle this? ”

Inui swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before his answer, “Yes. I want this, I want y-you...all of you. ” This greatly pleased you, a toothy smile spreading across your face as your slender tail swished from behind

“Very good~ Then let us begin, cutie~ ” You positioned yourself so that your face was hovering over Inui's cock, using your long, forked tongue to wet the member while your hands held the human's thighs apart. Inui moaned loudly when you swallowed his entire length at once, your mouth now flush with his pelvis. He instinctually grabbed your hair, tightening his fist as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking on the tip harshly. Teeth grazing against the bottom of his cock and causing Inui to keen, throwing his head back against the ground and letting out a high-pitched moan

Precum hit the back of your throat, coating your tongue and drawing out a moan when you tasted the familiar salty flavour. You couldn't help but moan around Inui's thick cock, the vibrations causing his dick to twitch inside of your mouth. Which only egged you on more, now bobbing your head faster, wrapping your long tongue around his shaft. Inui was losing his mind, vision blurry as it felt like he was getting a handjob and a blowjob at the same time

He cried out your name, his back arching impossibly high off of the ground, “G-gonna– Aaahhh—!!! ” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the sorcerer's load poured down your throat, greedily swallowing every last drop. You slowly let his cock slide out of your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop sound, tongue lolling out and a bit of cum sticking to it

Already spent, Inui panted heavily. But you were far from finished with this new toy, licking your lips and immediately sticking your tongue into the human's hole, eliciting a scream from him. “Oh– Oooohh fffuuuck~ ”

You continued to lick and slurp Inui's ass, working your tongue deeper inside of him and shoving it against his prostate, making him shout out broken moans. Sobbing as his ass was stretched just from that thick tongue

Retracting your tongue, you quickly replaced the wet muscle with two fingers, pumping them in and out of Inui's wet hole. His head felt fuzzy again as his ass was stretched further, it already felt as if he was at his limit, his arm draped over his eyes and chest heaving. You wrapped your other hand around Inui's dick, giving it a few pumps before rubbing over his slit with your thumb. The poor human hissed, biting his lip and clawing at your arms, his dick still sensitive from the previous orgasm

This did not deter you, however. If anything it only made you move faster and push your fingers in deeper, once again hitting Inui's prostate and leaving your fingers pressed against it. Ripping yet another orgasm out of him as your hand milked more cum from his cock, the thick fluid leaking all down your fingers

Inui slumped against the ground, almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. With his strength rapidly leaving him, his hands fell onto the ground, releasing their grip on your large arms. You rubbed your hands over the expanse of Inui's chest, cooing sweet praises into your human's ear. “You're doing so well, sweetie. Releasing all of this lovely fluid just for me~” Inui could feel the rumbling in your chest as you spoke, voice low and gravelly. “But we're just getting started~ ”

Inui's eyes opened in bewilderment. He knew that this would require way more stamina than usual, human sex. What he did not expect was how every single touch from your clawed, calloused hands seemed to drain that stamina immediately and light every last nerve on fire at the same time. It was as if your touch injected him with lust, keeping him constantly horny enough to keep going even if he could no longer hold himself up

The familiar sound of clothing hitting the ground brought his attention back to you, having just removed your trousers. Which allowed your cock to spring free of it's constraints. Inui's mind appeared to go blank at the sight, drool falling from the corners of his mouth as he stared at your fully erect length. Most humans would say something along the lines of, “No way in hell is that thing going to fit!” But Inui Seishu was not most humans. Inui was, to put it crudely, a cockslut and a size king. Always craving the things that would stretch him open enough to shut off his mind, only able to moan and take inch after inch deeper into his body

These thoughts were not unknown to you, as every last kink and preference became known as soon as they laid down in the enchanted circle. Which is exactly why you chose him. Inui would be capable of taking everything that you could give him; he craved an experience such as this one, and you were more than happy to give it to him

As if your body had its own gravitational force, Inui inches closer towards it, beckoning you to slide into his tight hole. So you grabbed his waist, impossibly tiny within your grasp, and lined your demonic dick up with his ass. He gulped, glassy eyes trained on your cock as the tip disappeared inside of him, the stretch already burning in the most delicious way

“Shh, breathe for me, lovely. There's still so much more that needs to go in.” Those soothing words echoed in Inui's mind as another inch slid past that ring of muscles. His eyes rolling into the back of his head and mouth falling open in a silent moan. You soothed the human as best as you could, sliding in further and further until your dick had disappeared entirely. “Ooohh fuuucckk yeeesss~ ” You hissed, panting as his tight walls convulsed around your cock, his hips jerking upwards as cum painted his chest white

A devilish grin spread across your face, slowly thrusting into Inui's twitching body. He came just from feeling you bottom out inside of him. Such a good little pet for you.

A familiar tightening in your core caused you to speed up, chasing your first release of the night while your human was already on his third. Yet, you could sense the passion inside of him, he craved more. And more is exactly what you would give him. Slamming your hips against his roughly, you growled praises against Inui's neck, nipping him with your fangs and flooding his insides with searing hot cum

Still partially recovering from his earlier orgasm, Inui arched his back high off of the ground, wailing as you fucked him and filled him. His body going completely limp in your hands, breathing erratically and making the cutest fucked out noises

You took a second to catch your breath and revel in the sight before you. There was a large bulge in Inui's stomach where he was stretched around your cock, his insides pushed aside to make room for the impossibly large intrusion. His blond hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat sliding down his skin from the intensity of it all. Your hand brushed some of the wet hair away, nails scratching against his scalp and pulling a soft whine from him

You couldn't stop the smile growing on your features, it'd been far too long since you had felt this way towards a human. Especially one that intentionally offered himself unto you like this one did. Hungry lips met Inui's soft ones, moving together harmoniously as your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying this moment before you gave him another orgasm

Inui moaned into the kiss when he felt your fingers brush against his nipples, playing with them so you could hear more pretty noises from your sweet human, humping into his wet hole as you did so. Inui gasped as your hips snapped into him harshly, pinching his nipples simultaneously. Your thrusts began to speed up again, causing him to throw his head back in total bliss, fucking him at just the right pace

The temptation to mark your cute pet up was far too strong, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his sensitive neck. Nibbling on the soft flesh as you fucked your previous load deep into his gut, thrusting faster and faster so that you could add more cum to the mess already within his walls, making the bulge in his stomach even larger. Inui whined loudly, tangling his hand in your hair and tugging at the roots, begging for you to cum in him again, “Please– Ah!! More...cum in me more... Fill me with your cock until I can't think of anything else– F-fuuck—!! ”

Cum flooded his insides once again, dick twitching as his gummy walls squeezed it all out of you, your hips surely hitting him hard enough to leave a bruise later on. Blood trickled down Inui's neck as your fangs pierced his delicate skin. Tears ran down his cheeks from the combined intensity of everything

Inui's dick became hard yet again, still glistening from his previous orgasms. “Sweet thing, will you cum with me this time? ” You cooed, wrapping a hand around his length. Slowly pumping it as you peered into his gorgeous green eyes. “Just give me one more, then you can rest. Can you do that, darling? ” Inui nodded languidly, his hips rolling into your fist on their own

You smiled at him in response, taking a deep breath before thrusting into him again. The reaction from him was immediate; his hips jerked forward, head turning to the side as a loud moan erupted from him, hands grasping at your wrist that was gliding up and down his member. But you continued on, cock reaching the deepest places inside of him, rearranging his guts completely as his body molded to your length

Inui clenched around your dick, his fourth climax just within reach, crying out your name while your thrusting became sloppy. One hand continued to jerk him off, twisting your wrist as you stroked upwards and eliciting high-pitched screams from him, while your other hand rubbed at the bulge in his stomach. Effectively jerking yourself off through his body, almost using him as a fleshlight

The way his mind just shut off was instantly noticeable. Inui's eyes became vacant, unable to look away from your lustful gaze. Little “Ah! Ah! Ah! ” noises escaping him with each rhythmic thrust, no longer capable of forming words as he becomes your dumb little doll. Arms and legs completely limp, the only thing really moving is his hips as they thrust into your hand, chasing yet another orgasm even though his mind is unresponsive to the overstimulation

“I really did fuck you stupid, didn't I, little one?” No response, unless you count the slightest change in the pitch of the human's moans as anything. “So good for me. Mm, cum with me now, let us complete this pact~ ”

With that, you fucked into Inui roughly, snapping your hips into his and vigorously pumping his cock. Biting your bottom lip as you grow closer to your release and finally cumming within Inui's tight ass as he squeezes you once more, his own release following only a second behind yours. His body twitched and writhed under your grasp as a glowing red seal was burned onto his stomach, the large mark spanning from just above his bellybutton to right above the base of his dick. The same mark as your summoning circle, a mark of ownership. Telling all manner of demons and other creatures that this one belongs to you

Caressing the newly etched seal, a wave of possessiveness washed over your features for a moment. Your darling human was fast asleep, exhaustion finally taking over after so much excitement. His soft features became illuminated by the moonlight and you couldn't help but smile fondly

You slowly and carefully pulled out of him, so as not to hurt him or rouse him from slumber. Soothing your hands over his body and kissing his pale cheek before lying down next to his side. You pulled him against your chest and spooned his small body, wrapping your tail around his leg. Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you whispered a few more praises and loving words into Inui's ear before drifting off with him

Tagging: @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

[anantaru]

JEALOUS! BOYFRIEND SCARAMOUCHE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — jealous! boyfriend scaramouche headcanons

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, gn! reader, clingy! kuni, a little sad, established relationship, he's your boyfriend, needs your attention, gets jelly easily but hides it, he‘s trying his best!!!!

jealous! bf scaramouche who is, admittedly and without dissembling, too jealous for his own well being. As a general rule, he himself does seldomly clutch onto his own clinging temper in circumstances rotating around your relationship because he directly backs off in wanting to admit it to himself that, yes, while it pains him to say it, he's honestly someone who gets jealous fast, in the twinkling of an eye.

jealous! bf scaramouche whose acute jealousy does not branch from a shortage of trust in his significant other, rather it arises from a gigantic section of profound uneasiness in his own heart. He himself would never waste a single thought on you taking his trust for granted or that you would undertake some kind of object to have him saddened, in a further way cause discomfort and burn his faith in you to have it suffer— which had been shown to be challenging and arduous in its unified form, remembering on how many times he had been betrayed in the past.

jealous! bf scaramouche who, without fail, wakes up in the morning before you do— with that he can adequately plan to welcome the sweetness of a new day (which he, before you, never even attempted) together with you firmly entangled in his pleasant arms. Speaking of such interesting morning ritual, kuni had a homelike rule of being almost insufferably close to you at all times imaginable— with a few exceptions being at night when you're sleeping soundly and changing positions, tossing and turning in whatever directions seemed comfortable enough.

jealous! bf scaramouche who cannot wait any longer for you to rouse yourself and smoother him with boundless attention— because he really needs it endlessly. He will meticulously plant warm kisses on your sensitive neck until you're fully woken up while gently shimmering his cold hand up and down your slumbering skin— so you can please please wake up already, kuni was getting bored and annoyed with his own company.

jealous! bf scaramouche who consequently raises his right brow in an irritated manner when he listens to your giggles post slumber, while you're excitedly telling him about your day and how overly packed it was. There could be many reasons but it's heavily implied to be the fact that he was, for one, inordinately keen and noisy, wanting to know what could possibly have you more excited than simply spending time with him instead.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will never become uncomfortably loud or start yelling at you, be belittling or display anything of those particular temperament to you— doesn't matter the circumstances at hand, he rather will keep his frame of mind and spirits to himself and listen closely on what you decide to share with him. Among other things he will not forcibly insert himself into your life or pressure you to pour forth what you do not want to, kuni trusts you the utmost in his life and would never want you to think or believe he doesn't.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will become outstandingly clinging and snug when you explain that you're meeting up with a close friend you haven't seen in a damn long time since he had been on adventures around various nations for quite a while now. If it comes to him, scaramouche would delightfully have you in the confines of your comfortable bed all day long with his arms warmly caging you in, his eyes appearing with clear, loving hearts around his irises.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will elatedly nuzzle himself greater into your neck and begin to complain about just how comfortable you felt like that, how he does not want you to leave at this moment and time. He will passively suggest to stay in— while he will also act like he doesn't care that much if you go, for yet another five minutes because deep down he's aware he will miss you the second you're getting up to get yourself ready.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will dramatically roll his eyes and huff out his exhaled breath when you promptly try to free yourself from his melting fondle to get to your bathroom. He's now only speaking one more sentence in a desperate attempt to make you stay or at least come back again for a short while, "what's so special about that guy?" he didn't need an answer— looking back at it he felt like he was just talking to himself. But despite that, he began to spiral back into his overthinking nature, he couldn't help it.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will— in contrast to his better judgement, end up following you to the bathroom like a lost puppy when you explain to him that your close friend kazuha was a nice person, a loving individual while you proceed to give him broad intel about all the trivial matters he had accomplished in the past.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will try to actively listen and strike himself as interested in your stories— given the impression and the change in his mood, a couple of the situations and tales he had already heard of, but now, the next irksome remembrance was crossing his wildering thoughts, not only was your friend holding onto those accomplished deeds, you were now, meeting that person.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will be within your view and hug you from behind, compressing his hands around your waist while watching you brush your teeth. His head was resting in your neck and while it wasn't possible for you to talk back, he continued his words with a bunch of nothings, passively responding and adding it with random engaging hobbies you could be doing with him today .. if only you would pass up on the offer to spend time with kazuha.

jealous! bf scaramouche will, all downhearted, press his lips together when he noticed how you didn't care and carried on with your morning routine, to the point where a small portion of thick wrinkles were delving into his forehead and around his brows. In this case, he most likely didn't fathom he was vitally squeezing his face together and remaining his jaw tightened that it began to strain him a little afterwards.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will get intensely snapped back to the present reality when you playfully snap your fingers in front of his face— his reaction was more than amusing, killingly funny. He kept his eyes on you with his irked up countenance when you had stopped brushing your teeth, softly dampening your face with a towel before cradling your head back, tenderly leaving your hands on his warm cheeks.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will become nervous, rightfully so and look a little flabbergasted when you smoother one kiss on his lips and name him cute— which had him flustered up in an instant, hiding said fact required all the more stored up power from him now. Kuni kept his hands on your hips and held you close, sometimes he could curse himself, quite literally, that he always managed to get so worked up over nothingness.

jealous! bf scaramouche who will then wholeheartedly apologize with a deep hum to you, yet not voice a clear 'i’m sorry', but you knew what it meant— his small mumble, and that he had continuous troubles to say it out loud, though you weren't precisely knowing as to why exactly he needed to apologize to you since he didn't do anything wrong— no matter to him, but scaramouche had developed a clear scare of losing you.

jealous! bf scaramouche who then senses how a large, hefty weight has been gradually lifted off his strained shoulders the moment you assured him, over and over, that it was okay and everything was alright, he had no reason to apologize, more so not one to be scared of you dropping your beautiful, flourishing relationship for another person. You ended it with asking if he wanted to join you both because kazuha wouldn't mind at all, you knew him and were aware that he liked making new friends anyways.

jealous! bf scaramouche who guarantees you that it's okay, after all you haven't seen him in a goddamn long time and the last thing he wanted to do now was ruin it. Especially, since he had proudly proclaimed to cook a nice, warm dinner for you once you're back from your meet up.

jealous! bf scaramouche who lastly grins into the next big kiss you leave settled on his plump lips as you walk out of the bathroom to put on your clothes. The grueling way of keeping his hands from you had been daunting him, the moment you slip off his touch kuni felt a freezing coldness all around himself again.

jealous! bf scaramouche who aside from dealing with his bored up self with you gone now, has to think of another momentous notion for this day because he had originally urged to follow you around in secret (he's trying, okay) but now that was not possible anymore, he promised to make you dinner and didn't think about the consequences of his own actions.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, modify, translate

[punksalmon]

Tell us more about this Escape ending AU that you are completely normal about.

WELL, if you're asking

(i first received this ask in 28th of JUNE, but waited for my uni break so i could be as self-indulgent as possible)

the Escape AU is first and foremost my obsession with (1) epilogue-type stories as a way to deal with the conseguences of a plot (which is especially promising with funger's trauma bonanza) and (2) domestic gay people (which is ALSO especially promising with funger's trauma bonanza). i also like when the domestic couple are kind of freaks.

the background for the AU is mostly based with my number of playthroughs with the game, in particular that as soon as i had the girl and knew what exactly her ending was, i would go after literally any other ending just so she could live.

to say the summary of the dungeon-canon, ragnvaldr goes in the dungeon after le'garde to kill him and enki goes into the dungeon after the ritual of ascension, and they just join forces for survival; the girl only comes after, and because ragnvalr is partly in this whole quest because his child was murdered, he becomes somewhat protective of the girl, and then of enki, to the point of doubt about when does this affection and desire to protect is for them on their own, and when it's just comes as a second hand for the family ragnvaldr's lost. enki isn't arsed with any of it at first, but as a feral cat gaining the literal first modicum of care in its life, he starts to become less sure of how far he'd gone to obtain success when it puts this other people at risk, even without understanding (or accepting) any of it. and the girl is, verbatim, "unused to kindness of any kind" - she literally deserves the world.

the ending E, as exactly "underwhelming" as it is, is a reflection of this sense of care the characters develop: it doesn't matter what the dungeon does offer (and what really the characters do achieve in it; i personally like the idea of them facing Le'garde as the Yellow King in the dungeon, for the pathos of it all). the most important thing after the conga line of misery that funger is, is that for people that at that point had no reason to live, they suddenly get one. for it, they leave behind the dungeon and the promises within.

i still like to think that this sort of decision is not without unrest - i don't think enki would do well as a house wife, and this tension of "did i make a good choice? is this really what i want?" is interesting. i also thing ragvaldr has a little parasocial thing going because of his previous family, and i also think that idea is interesting.

as always, i like to see characters go through the ringer and then try to build a happy ending (or as happy as it can be) out of it. i feel that's a sort o theme anyone can find comfort in. and yes, i do like thinking of the funniest possible nuclear family unity Oldegård would ever see (pair of parents + one kid + a dog). (and i do like thinking about rag and enki doing it nasty. who said that.)

thank you for the ask and literally anyone who has the minimum interest about my brainworms… i loved thinking about them to write this. it also made me draw again (miraculous), so here's a little something.

first leaving the dungeons.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Eldritch Everyone

I have read fantastic stories where Obi Wan/ the Jedi are Eldritch creatures and other stories where the Clones are Eldritch, because of Kaminoan experiments. Let's merge the two with a twist. 

The twist is they are different types of eldritch beings who do not know the other is Eldritch. 

As always disregard any established lore that contradicts this. 

With the clones it is because of Kaminoan experimentation. It will never be quite clear what the Kamnioan’s were trying to do…or if they accomplished their goal. But the Kaminoan experiments on the Clones (with the exception of Boba Fett) genome connected with…something beyond. Something they had no idea what to account for. 

For the Eldritch Clones I am taking heavy inspiration from the incomparable Quarra’s The Force of my Love.  The Clones are a hivemind, existing paradoxically as part of the hive and individually all at once.  Their forms are nigh on indestructible and mutable, meaning they can shapeshift (they, in fact, make the choice to keep Jango Fett’s face and shape as their ‘main form’-partially due to spite, partially because the Kaminoans expect it). They are able to travel instantaneously to any clone that is part of the Hivemind(by contrast this instantaneous travel is limited to only to other members of the hivemind).  Unlike Quarra’s clones they cannot tell the difference between Sith and Jedi(for reasons that will be elaborated on later). They have eidetic memory which, combined with the hive mind, means that what one knows all of them know and none of them ever forget.  This version of the clones have no particular connection to Mandalorian culture, nor any other culture, save perhaps the Jedi (The propaganda that they are created for the Jedi still exists and frankly pales in comparison to how awesome the Jedi actually are). 

The Jedi are Eldritch through their connection to the Force, which is sentient (by certain definitions) but so utterly alien to anything on the mortal plane that there is no direct comparison. Now it needs to be made clear from the first that it is not just Force sensitivity that makes one Eldritch, the connection to the Force is just not strong enough.  There are additional rituals that the Jedi, and the Sith of Old, go through to become what could be considered Avatars of the Force (specifically the Light Side for the Jedi). These rituals were passed down from before the split between Sith and Jedi.

I say Sith of Old here, because Bane, in creating his rule of two, did away with many of those rituals (never realizing their worth) because several of them required more than 2 participants.  There are three rituals in particular that apply here. First is a ritual to allow oneself to fill completely with the Force (making themselves, for a lack of better terminology, larger than their mortal forms), which Bane kept as he believed it simply made one more powerful (and could be accomplished alone). The second ritual, also one that Bane kept, helped to hide the Banite Sith from the Jedi(it also disguised what was happening to the Banite Sith due to the first ritual, even from themselves), though that had always been a side effect of the ritual, not its intended purpose; this ritual is the reason that the Clones cannot sense Jedi and Sith seperately. The third ritual makes one a conduit of the Force (letting the Force pass through oneself) which Bane did away with. It is important here because mortal beings are not meant to be filled to the brim with the Force, without the release valve of the second ritual it causes them to rot from the inside out.   This is important because by the old definition of Sith, the Force Cult that has dedicated themselves to being the Avatars of the Dark Side of the Force, there has not been a Sith since Darth Bane (barring one exception) and why the Banite Sith tend to rot while still living, the longer they are immersed in the Dark Side.  Dooku did not rot because he had done the rituals as a Jedi, though he had not dedicated himself specifically to the Dark, so he never took on the title of True Sith. Ventress, through her training with Ky Narec, had also completed most of the Jedi rituals, meaning she was not a Sith but as closer to it than Palpatine. It was actually Maul who, in growing up submerged in the Dark like he had been, accidentally completed a version of the lost second ritual, and became a True Sith in the old meaning of the word. 

These rituals are meant to immerse a Force Sensitive in the Force itself, giving the connection more strength than it would have otherwise.  The Force abilities that we see the Jedi, and the Sith use, are because of the Rituals and why those that do not go through either version have much subtler/weaker abilities. It also means that the Jedi (and the Sith of old+Maul) give off the eerie impression that, no matter the size or species, they are somehow so much larger than they appear. That there is something beneath their skin trying to get out. Also being plugged directly into Force in the way that they are skews the way they view reality.   It can be hard for the Jedi to connect with beings that are not at least a little Force Sensitive and the Jedi care deeply, but sometimes cannot see what the actual problem is (saying ‘there is no death there is only the force’ is not meant to be a trite saying nor do many of the Jedi quite understand why it is not as comforting as they think it is).

At the beginning of the Clone Wars, both the Jedi and the Clones hide their eldritch nature from each other. Both groups had experienced how showing their nature to the wrong people can break minds and they had no wish to hurt the other. 

The first sign that something was…strange was how in sync both groups were.  The Jedi marveled that the clones never cringed at the sight of them (and that which moved under their skin when they lost focus). The Clones were ecstatic that the Jedi never questioned when they had knowledge they should not have, nor the few occasions when multiple clones spoke from the same mouth.  

Nat born officers would make comments, not directly but meant to be overheard, how the Jedi Padawans grew more ‘other’ every time they visited the Temple on Coruscant. The clones would only stare blankly, to them it seemed like the Padawans were simply growing into themselves. 

Various Jedi and clones began to fall into love (Familial, romantic, sexual, platonic, and other).  It is Depa Billaba and Gray who first confess, and in confessing reveal their respective natures (Depa is the one who made the first move-as soon as the Clones knew of the Jedi’s nature they each sought out their Jedi).

The main reason that Jedi do not get in romantic relationships with non Force Sensitives (and Padme has no Force Sensitivity) is that theri nature pushes them to connect at the deepest level they can with their loved ones.  This can mentally damage non Force Sensitives.

For Obi Wan, if Cody had not confessed, Obi Wan never would have.  He had tried, before, to have romantic relationships with non force sensitives. A few times he had even managed to deny his own nature until the relationship dissolved naturally (Obi Wan, like most Jedi could be…odd, even when trying to fit in). It had become clear through his life that it just was not worth the pain to act on those kinds of feelings.  The knowledge that Cody could bond with him fully, was interested in him both romantically and sexually was a joy. Obi Wan was not even off put that by dating on clone, he was in affect dating all of the clones at once (who were also dating other Jedi)

Sometimes the Clones and Jedi switched partners. For instance Mace Windu, who was primarily dating Ponds, loved the Theater, which Ponds was ambivalent about but Bly also loved the theater (which Aayla actively disliked). So Bly and Mace had a standing monthly date night to a variety of theaters all over the galaxy, and at least once a year end up acting in a performance. Or how Fox was one of the only Clones that was not bored stupid at the Anniversary Ball, a pretentious event of a small but rich mid rim planet to celebrate the ratifying of a treaty, that Obi Wan is required to go to every year (even the years he was actively at war). So Fox is Obi Wan’s date, while Cody and Vos (who primarily dated the Coruscant Guard), would use the night to break up some kind of ring(slavery, drugs, smuggling, etc.)

Rex found that he fit neatly into Padme and Anakin’s relationship, somehow providing a stabilizing influence on their bond.  Padme and Anakin had bonded after the first battle of Geonosis but it was a case of Anakin being young and stupid and reckless, and Padme not actually understanding what Anakin was talking about when he tried to explain the risks (She thought he was saying that it might hurt her, and she was reassuring him that she trust him to be careful. He thought she was saying that she knew about the risks and was Force Sensitive enough to not be harmed).  There was already some damage done to  Padme’s mind (mostly in terms of willpower, personality, and impulse control) by the time Rex joined the bond, and not all of it was correctable, but most was. 

It is not the Jedi and the Clones that disrupt Palpatine’s plans (though the chips never worked, so eventually they would have). It was Dooku, Ventress, and Maul. Maul was the first True Sith, though it was accidental, in almost 1000 years. Dooku knew what it meant to be Jedi/Sith in the original sense and could tell that Palpatine did not. Ventress, like Dooku, had gone through the Jedi versions of the rituals (those rituals may have been passed down since before the split, but time had caused a bit of difference).  Because Palpatine has the deeper connection to the Force but not release valve, for lack of a better term, he is more immediately powerful but in the long run is doing far more damage to himself than he realizes.  Sometime before Maul would have gone after Satine, he encounters Ventress, who recognizes him as an actual Sith and brings him to Dooku. 

These three decide that they are going to destroy Palpatine (for being a Pretended Sith) and rebuild the actual Sith Order with the full Sith rituals. Maul is a bit surprised to realize that he, by himself, is more than a match for Palpatine (Since this was the man that had tormented him since childhood; he always had the picture that Palptine was bigger than life). Dooku then publishes all of the wrong doings he knew of from Palpatine’s entire circle-CIS and Republic alike- (and he knew about 80% of what was eventually uncovered). Then all three of them fuck off to Morriban to begin their research into resurrecting the Sith Order. 

The Jedi Order and the Clones collectively decide to let them, on the basis that at least they know where the three Sith are and it keeps them busy.

[graveyardcuddles]

There's this post I saw on here about how if the player turns Shadowheart over to the Sharans, the rest of the party should all turn on you. I completely agree, and I think they should also mutiny against Tav/Durge if they tell Orin to just go ahead and kill the party member she takes hostage. Act 3 feels like the act where everyone in the group should care about each other the most and yet it's the act where they arguably feel most disconnected from one another. And this is all probably a symptom of the overall lack of reactions and responses to major events in Act 3 from the companions in general.

But another similar example that drives me insane is how, if you ascend Astarion and then immediately turn on him and side with the Gur, ALL of the companions will just be like "Nice work taking out the trash, team. Job well done. Another vampire lord vanquished, " without so much as a hint of emotion after you betray him, gang up on him and KILL HIM?? As if they hadn't spent weeks and possibly months traveling with Astarion, getting to know him, bonding with him, ect. As if they hadn't just all stood there and let him complete the ritual. But the moment Paladin Karen and the Gur show up, they just abandon all that over what? Some vague ideal of "evil is evil black and white no nuace" nonsense? (which is even more ridiculous if some of the other companions are evil like DJ Shadowheart or Minthara).

The only companion with a reasonable reaction is Halsin, who correctly points out you should have tried harder to stop the ascension rather than betray Astarion and kill him after it happened. I understand that not all of the companions have the best relationship with him. And I understand all of them very much disapprove of him ascending. So I don't expect the whole party to mutiny over this particular decision. But the fact that they ALL uniformly turn on him so quickly for these people they don't even know is disappointing. There should have realistically been some pushback/objections. Or at least some guilt and sadness and reflection over the fact that they all just had to kill their former traveling companion/friend that THEY allowed to become this threat they felt warranted putting down.

It feels like it should be an incredibly tragic and cathartic moment, and it just falls spectacularly flat. I tried to rationalize their reactions as just part of the shitty lack of responses the companions all generally have in Act 3. But at least with Shadowheart and the hostage situation with Orin the companions will still be ANGRY at you and express their disaproval. Whereas here it really comes off like they just don't give a shit about Astarion and never really did. It's depressing.

I feel like it unintentionally and very sadly lends validation to the idea that what Astarion says about no one else being like Tav/Durge. No one else will look out for him. No one else will have that same kindness for him. No one has a heart like them. I don't actually agree with this notion. I think based on the good epilogue for his spawn ending he's definitely capable of making friends and genuine human connections. But Tav/Durge HAS to come first. They have to be the example that shows him how.

Also why I can't stop repeatedly romancing him. Astarion needs Tav/Durge arguably more than any other companion. He has nothing and no one else.

[eksvaized]

Part Eighteen [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride if you want to be added - let me know!

When Johnny first arrived, the initial idea was that he would be staying with you and Simon for a brief period—just a handful of days at the most. It was a temporary arrangement. However, much to your surprise, those few short days have somehow extended and morphed into a full week. Not only that, but there is not a single hint that Johnny has any immediate plans to start packing up his belongings and leave.

At the very beginning of this unexpected cohabitation, you were filled with doubts and had serious reservations about the arrangement. Yet, as time passed, it has become increasingly clear that Johnny serves an essential role—he acts as an ideal buffer between you and Simon.

When Johnny is present, Simon, who would dominate the conversation, finds his voice diminishing, his words fading into the background. His physical contact with you has also noticeably decreased; other than occasionally draping an arm over your shoulder while you’re all sitting in the living room, or catching a fleeting moment to press a quick kiss to your cheek when he finds an opening, Simon is compelled to maintain a certain distance from you. The reason—Johnny. He seems hell-bent on monopolizing your attention. And truth be told, you don’t mind at all. On the contrary, you find yourself enjoying Johnny’s company because it gives you an excuse to avoid Simon.

Johnny, with his boisterous laugh and sometimes exasperating antics, brings a certain liveliness into your daily routine. But what you appreciate the most about him, beyond his personality, is his staunch refusal to let Simon dictate the rhythm and rules of everything. Johnny provides a counterbalance to Simon’s often overbearing presence. He encourages you to voice out your thoughts and feelings, even if they revolve around seemingly mundane and unimportant matters.

It’s clear that Simon’s frustration and annoyance with Johnny’s incessant behaviour has reached a boiling point, making it a mystery as to why Johnny has not yet been shown the door. This puzzling question has lingered for a considerable amount of time, dwelling in the recesses of your mind, forming a thought you dared not articulate. However, one particular evening, an opportunity presented itself. It was a moment when Simon was showering, and you, feeling the need to momentarily break free from the stifling confines of the bedroom, made a decision to join Johnny in his ritual of late-night television viewing…

In the hush of night, unable to succumb to the lure of sleep, Johnny sits engrossed in some frivolous show, providing you with the perfect opportunity to ask the question that has been gnawing at you - why is he living in your bedroom?

Johnny’s response is brief. He explains that after a particularly stormy breakup with his girlfriend; the aftermath had left his apartment in a state of complete disarray. The place had been left in such shambles that immediate repair and renovation were necessary. During this period of reconstruction, he found himself without a place to stay.

However, he admits that there is an additional motive behind his sudden intrusion into your personal space. He carries a hopeful intention of trying to persuade Simon to reconnect with some old friends, who have lost touch with Simon following the mourning period of his ex-girlfriend’s funeral.

Simon intrudes into the room, unwittingly stumbling upon your conversation with Johnny about his former love. To label Simon as merely ‘unhappy’ about what his ears have been subjected to would be a gross understatement, akin to calling a hurricane a gentle breeze. The anger coursing through his veins is almost palpable, manifesting itself in fists clenched like iron vices, his knuckles turning white. His teeth are gritted, a telltale sign of his struggle to control his emotions.

Johnny shoots you a sorry look when Simon abruptly steers you back towards the bedroom, his forceful manner leaving no room for protest. The door closes behind you with a resounding thud, the sound of the lock turning ricochets off the walls like a gunshot in the night.

Suddenly, Simon’s fingers, as cold as ice, encircle your throat in a firm hold that leaves you gasping for breath. His other hand gets tangled in your hair, pulling with just enough force to elicit a sharp, stinging sensation on your scalp. The painful tingle amplifies the sense of dread that has already begun to consume you.

With an unexpected force, he presses you against the coarse, uneven texture of the wall. He hoists you up until your feet barely graze the ground, forcing you to balance on the very tips of your toes. The sudden movement takes you by surprise, causing your eyes to widen in shock. The stark fear is evident in your gaze as it flickers frantically over Simon’s face. Your lips part in a gasp and you let out a frightened whimper—a sound so soft it’s barely audible over the deafening pounding of your heart that seems to fill the room with its rapid rhythm when his fingers tighten their grip. Like talons of a predatory bird, they dig into the soft flesh of your neck.

“I was being patient… very patient,” he speaks, drawing out each word with a slow, deliberate cadence that sends chills down your spine. The realization hits you like a wave—you have never before seen him in such a heightened state of anger. And even in those rare instances when you had glimpsed his fury, it had never been unleashed towards you with such terrifying intensity. “Those rules we established before Johnny arrived. You remember them, don’t you?”

His face inches closer, the proximity too much, his knuckles bleaching even more as his fingers dig deeper into your hair. A sharp hiss of pain escapes your mouth, the sensation akin to a thousand tiny needles piercing your scalp. The imminent threat of tears begins to sting at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

“No. Unnecessary. Conversations.”

His grip around your throat slackens slightly, and a flicker of hope ignites within you as you dare to believe that he might release you. But just as you gather your strength, preparing to slip away from his grasp, he suddenly forces you back against the wall. The impact reverberates through your body, causing a sharp, searing sting to bloom in your back, drawing another pained groan from your lips.

“I-I’m sorry,” you choke out in a feeble whisper, your fingers wrapping desperately, pleadingly, around his wrist. You try to swallow, to clear the knot that had formed in your throat and the saliva that has pooled in your mouth, but the attempt is futile. “I can’t b-breathe…”

Upon hearing your distressed plea, Simon immediately, as if burned, relinquishes his hold on you. The sudden freedom sends you crumpling to the floor where you gasp for breath, drawing in the stale, stagnant air of the room deep into your starved lungs. The room spins around you. Without another word, Simon reaches for his pack of cigarettes and lighter and saunters over to the window.

While he smokes, and after your nerves have settled, you scurry into the bed, burrowing yourself under the covers, and curling up into a tight ball.

That night is a sleepless one. As the hours tick by, you remain wide awake, your mind racing with countless thoughts and fears. And just as the first faint glimmer of dawn pierces the inky night sky, a decision crystallizes in your mind—you need to escape. Time is no longer a luxury you can afford. Waiting for a safe opportunity to present itself is no longer an option, especially after yesterday when you realized that Simon is capable of hurting you. Until then, he had been content to wield psychological abuse as his weapon of choice, attempting to break your mind and will. But now, he had crossed a line.

With an almost excruciating slowness, you get out of the bed. Your gaze is firmly locked onto Simon’s sleeping form, his chest rising and falling with each breath. As you carefully tiptoe out of the room, you feel a rush of adrenaline, your heart pounding in your chest. You move with the swift desperation of a cornered prey, yet you are mindful to step lightly, taking great care not to make a sound. Your senses are heightened. Every creak of the floorboards sounds like a gunshot in the silence. You navigate your way towards the staircase, your path illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering in through the windows.

You know Johnny will not help you. It’s pointless to ask. Especially after Simon fed him all those lies about your non-existent delusion disorder. Simon controls the narrative, yet doesn’t guard Johnny’s possessions from you within the house. This gives you a glint of hope, like a faint star in a dark sky, that you might be able to find Johnny’s keys and use his truck to escape.

You could, of course, try to scale the fence once again and attempt to flee on foot, running as fast as your legs could carry you. But the memory of your previous attempt and its painful consequences make you hesitate to do so. Another option is to try your hand at picking the lock on the front door, though this requires a level of skill and finesse you’re not entirely sure you possess. You are also barely clothed. So, stealing some keys and using a car to flee seems like a better option, and a faster one. You just have to hope that your memories of driving, buried deep in your muscle memory, will come back to you once you’re behind the wheel.

As you tread towards your bedroom, each footfall on the hard floor is heavy with a sense of impending dread, like a silent drum beating in your chest. Only the soft, relentless ticking of the hallway clock punctuates the deathly silence of the house. As you reach the door, your trembling hand nudges it open. The door responds with a sharp, grating creak that ricochets throughout the hallways, making you wince. You freeze, standing in the doorway, your heart pounding in your ears, as you hold your breath.

You peek inside, your eyes scanning the bedroom. The moonlight filtering in through the window paints eerie shadows on the walls. But to your relief, Johnny is still deeply immersed in slumber, completely unaware of your presence, with no signs of stirring.

Desperate to find what you’re looking for, you first cast your glance towards the nightstand. But as you delve into its drawers, your initial flicker of hope quickly deflates, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment as you find it empty. Undeterred, you proceed to the next location - the wardrobe. As you rummage through the haphazardly arranged items, your eyes catch sight of Johnny’s jacket, carelessly discarded on the floor near the window.

With a renewed sense of determination, you approach the jacket and search the pockets. As your hand closes around a cold, metallic object, you can feel your body start to tremble—a potent mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. You pull out a jingling set of keys, their metallic gleam catching the dim light in the room. You carefully flip through each key, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you find the pair of car keys and the house keys that Simon had entrusted to Johnny.

Just as you’re about to celebrate your victory, the tranquil silence is shattered by Johnny’s slumber-laden voice. This unexpected intrusion sends a jolt of electricity through your system, freezing you in your tracks like a deer caught in headlights. Your heart, which moments ago had been alive with anticipation, now sinks heavily in your chest as you slowly, reluctantly turn to face him. Your eyes dart anxiously towards the door, but a quick, frantic assessment of the situation tells you that fleeing isn’t a viable option at this point. You realize you wouldn’t be able to outrun him, and attempting to do so would only result in a commotion loud enough to rouse Simon from sleep.

In your panicked state, you try to concoct a believable explanation. Johnny, who has now sat up, his sleepy eyes barely open, accidentally spots the keys that you’re gripping so tightly. They’re nestled against your chest, seemingly imprinted into your skin. “What are you doing?” His question hangs in the air, his voice heavy with sleep and tainted with a hint of confusion.

Caught off guard, you stutter out a weak reply, “I-I need to get out of the house, just for a bit. I—” Your voice trails off as you inch towards the door—your mind is made up. You don’t care anymore, not when you are so close to escaping. Regardless of the consequences, the moment you step into the hallway, you are going to run.

Johnny watches you. An unfamiliar expression etched on his face. You had expected anger. Instead, there’s a depth of concern that tugs at the corners of his eyes and furrows his brow.

He rises from the bed, his movements careful and calculated, as though he’s afraid of startling you. “We can go. Together,” he offers, his tone gentle, causing your tense muscles to relax slightly. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, but you instinctively step back. “Just… Let’s wake Simon,” he says, his tone maintaining its softness. “We should tell him, so he doesn’t spend the entire night worrying about us.”

Your immediate response is a vigorous shake of your head. “No, we—you can’t, he’ll not let me leave,” you manage to blurt out, your voice trembling as panic starts to grip you, cold and tight.

Johnny attempts to soothe you. “Okay, okay, calm down. Take a breath,” he coaxes, his hands firmly placed on your shoulders, anchoring you. “Let me get dressed, okay? You should dress up too. Something warm. And then we can go for a ride. Just the two of us, okay? Just a nice, quiet ride to help clear our heads.”

For a moment, you stand rooted to the spot, the silence between you thick and tangible. You understand, deep in your bones, that this is it. This is your golden ticket, your chance—an unexpected opportunity that has fallen into your lap like an apple from a tree. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been caught by Johnny. Unknowingly, he’s provided you with another chance to flee. You can finally slip through the bars of your gilded cage while he’s busy getting dressed.

However, the moment you leave him behind and make a mad dash towards the staircase, you catch sight of Simon standing ominously at the bottom of it. Even in the engulfing darkness, the intensity of his predatory gaze is frightening. It burns with an unspoken fury that sends chills down your spine. His jaw is clenched so tightly you can almost hear the grinding of his teeth as he slowly starts his ascent up the staircase.

Suddenly, Johnny appears out of nowhere behind you, his abrupt presence startling you. When Simon, in a voice that is dangerously low, demands to know what the hell is going on, Johnny calmly replies with a nonchalance that is out of place in the edgy atmosphere, “I think she’s… We were just going to go for a ride.”

“I think not,” Simon cuts in. He stops in front of you, extending his hand, presumably to haul you back into the bedroom. In a rush of adrenaline, fueled by fear, you push him away. He loses his footing and stumbles against the railing, a look of surprise flashing across his face. Seizing the opportunity, you bolt towards the front door.

Behind you, two sets of footsteps echo like a death knell in a haunted crypt, their ominous cadence filling the air with a shroud of dread. Terror prevents you from daring to glance back. The keys, slick with sweat from your clammy palms, slip and slide as you fumble to unlock the door. Two muscular arms encircle you from behind, immobilizing you. Realizing it’s Simon, panic surges and you begin a frantic struggle, kicking and screaming.

“Let me go, you fucking crazy bastard! Let me fucking go!” The grip around your frame tightens, suffocating your screams. You shift your focus towards Johnny, and your wide, terrified eyes meet his. “Please, help me! I beg you! Everything he told you is a lie! He kidnapped me—he has been keeping me in the basement—”

Yet, despite your heartfelt cries for help, Johnny remains as still as a statue, frozen in the chilling tableau of your desperation. His voice, when it emerges, is a whisper, low and filled with a tumult of worry. “What’s happening to her?” he inquires, his eyes never leaving your distraught form.

“She’s experiencing a delusion,” Simon answers, a chilling calm in his voice, as though he’s narrating a mundane occurrence. “It’s been awhile since the last episode, but—it tends to happen more at night—”

Upon hearing this, you let out a guttural scream so raw and primal that it brings a flood of tears cascading down your cheeks. “I’m not crazy! You are!”

The two men are frozen for a while, but then Simon orders Johnny to get something from the kitchen. “It’s in the box in the cupboard over the fridge.”

Before you can fully register what’s happening, or even react, something sharp pierces your skin—a needle. Within mere seconds, your body succumbs to an overwhelming numbness, becoming limp and unresponsive in Simon’s embrace.

Johnny, now holding the used syringe, turns to Simon. “What was in it?” He inquires as Simon lifts you in his arms.

Your consciousness begins to wane, your thoughts growing hazy and disjointed. “Sedative,” Simon says. “The doctors prescribed it for her whenever she has one of her episodes. At times, she’s unable to calm down on her own, and there have been instances when it got out of hand—she would try to harm herself. So, it’s best to let her sleep it off.”

Struggling against the encroaching darkness, you blink slowly, your eyelids heavy as lead. You focus your dwindling attention on Johnny’s face. His eyes flit back and forth between you and Simon.

“She’s going to be fine,” Simon reassures his friend—you want to scoff, to tell him not to lie, but even when you part your lips to form the words, the strength to voice them doesn’t come to you.

[floofefolf]

Lucifer X Dwayne the rock Johnson - a short fic

It was a warm day in hell. Like any ol’ day, huh. It was bright in the pride ring. Maybe dark in other rings. It's like countries, they have different climates. Gluttony is usually warm and filled with party. Lust is usually cold, full of sex, horny demons, and potentially weird ass shit. Envy and greed well, they were exactly what you'd expect from places called envy and greed. That's all that can be said.

Back to the “premise” of this whole thing. If there even was one. Lucifer. He was in his mansion. The Morningstar mansion, Perhaps? It has a nice ring to it. I'd personally want to stay in a place called the Morningstar mansion, idk ABT you though. I'd say magne mansion but, lucifer is no longer magne. It's Morningstar now, heh. Magne is like a dead name ngl. Except he was now never called magne. It's always been Morningstar.

Lucifer sat there. In his “throne room”, filled with rubber ducks. Filled with atmosphere. Ecstasy, maybe. Because rubber ducks fill him with such a lovely thing. Not the horny version though. Only his wife commence that. But there was a particular reason as to *why* he was sat down. At this moment. He was in his usual day to day outfit, of course. But something was out of the ordinary. Something very unusual.

You see, under his outfit, he had on another. One out of the ordinary indeed. One embarrassing. and this outfit, was the premise here. He is rethinking his life choices indeed. Wondering, what possessed him to wear such an outfit? Why did he wear this? Because he thought it was a good thing to order off of Amazon. Now he's kindof obsessed with this catboy look. How good.

Not good.

He is worried. Anxious if you will. Why? Because he fears one thing. One thing only. And that is, the fact that the manliest man in the history of men, will not see Lucifer Morningstar as a man. That is, fear. True fear. Who is the manliest man in the history of men, you may be potentially questioning?... Well- the answer is obvious. It's oh so obvious

** **

Dwayne.

Dwayne the rock Johnson. The most manly man in the history of men. Hes so manly that the pancake he devours grows six packs. How charming.. he's Lucifers idol. But he's also holding Lucifer back from his full potential. Lucifer worries too much about his opinion. His opinion on how he dresses n allat.

He's been holding him back ever since lucifers most recent true love - big bird. The only thing holding him back from going full femboy mode on him, is Dwayne the rock Johnson. He thinks about his opinions on this all too much. It eats away at his brain, tbh. And why? Because he wonders, if he let out his full femboy bottom persona, would Dwayne the rock Johnson come down and smash him, in the non sexual way? Smash him into the floor until he dies, then take the crown for himself? Who knows.

Lucifer wishes he did.

**”I'm truly sorry Dwayne the rock Johnson.”**

** **

He sadly said as he looked to the ground. He wasn't trying to be quiet. No, he was just trying to let out his sadness. He was sorry for failing his idol by becoming an absolute femboy. He was sorry for everything like Marcy Wu was sorry for sending her friends to a frog land and kinda being a bitch. Yeah, Lucifer is an amphibia fan, whatchu gon do ABT it??

**”Even when I fell from heaven, I knew I'd find a heaven down here… and being a femboy, that's my heaven.”**

It was like he was saying a ritual. As he was now outside his mansion, down on his knees, his hands clasped together, in a Christian praise pose. He didn't know any other. He used to be a Christian when he was in heaven. Tbh, was he heaven born? Prolly. And he was a damn good angel. But he's also a damn good angel in bed. So yeah what's your point…. He is an ultimate bottom, and hell even a rizz lord.

** **

**”And so, dressing as a catboy isn't a sin. It's manly. It can be manly. Aand if you praise Satan, know he's a peace of shit. Sorry it was obligatory to add…”**

He snickered at the thought of Satan hearing. That would be funny. But lucifer is indeed praying in hell. Kindof??? He was trying to communicate to Dwayne the rock Johnson. Something no one has ever tried. Why? Who knows. Maybe they a pussy idk bro. Dwayne down here is probably reffered to as Dwayne the cock Johnson.

Lucifer then got up and cleaned the dust from his pants. Then ripped off his clothes. Revealing the ultimate catboy outfit … thigh high socks; a skirt, a crop top hoodie, arm warmers, a choker, an catboy ears. Tis who he is… and if Dwayne the rock Johnson doesn't accept him, no one will. He also wants Markipliers approval, but that's a story for another day.

He walked into his mansion, sat back down, took a photo, and posted it to sinstagram. He is accepting his identity tbh….. good for him. He then Lowkey fell asleep. Great. He sure does hope Dwayne the rock Johnson receives his message. Otherwise it was all pointless. Stripping in public, praying as the king in public….. let's hope it went to good use. If it didn't, that's no good.

[councilman-horsemeat]

The Greatest Star Trek Characters, Ranked

I was recently reading a few articles ranking the various Star Trek characters and got really infuriated. I started punching my solid wood table until my fists were blooded and filled with splinter. Kirk, Spock, Picard- who gives a shit? There was no flavor, no spice to these lists. After taking a long walk and eating some meal, I decided I oughta make my own. Here it goes; In no particular order, so they're not actually ranked at all.

Sylvia Tilly Star Trek: Discovery is full of people whose lives have sucked, in a way which reflects their outlook on life. Some are hardened, some burdened, some both. Sylvia Tilly offers a delightful contrast to these characters. I’m not through the first season of Discovery yet, but I hope she and Michael Burnham become best friends forever.

Mobar (Fake Tuvok) Part of a criminal group that travels the Delta quadrant scamming various strangers through various schemes. Mobar and his friend Dala ended up acting as Tuvok and Janeway, fooling hapless aliens into joining the “Federation”, which meant little more than handing over their starships or cargo. Mobar ended up getting WAY into character, oftentimes chastising his fellow criminals for not adhering to Starfleet protocols. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to make him not a criminal, and in the end he went down like a chump. RIP to a legend. I don’t think he died but whatever.

Dax (Jadzia, Ezri and Curzon/Odo) Jadzia Dax, our first true look into what trill really are. The fusion of Jadzia and Dax created a woman with wisdom far beyond her years, enough to make her approach life in a very confident, laid-back way. This, along with her highly analytical mind and charm, would have made her a perfect ship’s captain. Gone too soon.

On the other hand, I really liked Ezri Dax too. I’m conflicted, because seeing what it’s like for an unprepared, naive trill to be joined (despite never training to) was really interesting, and I even wish we got more than just the one season with her- but I also wish Jadzia could have been around for the finale.

When they were temporarily joined in a trill ritual, Curzon brought a certain down-in-the-dirt, slob attitude to the usually uptight Odo. I really liked him. He could have been less of a pervert.

Bearded Geordi LaForge Beautiful. Majestic. Just a touch of rogueish charm. Too bad he only had it for two episodes and like some movies or whatever.

Mirror Sarek I understand WHY he has a goatee. They needed to make him visually distinct from normal Sarek and it’s an homage to mirror Spock from way back when. The problem is that the homage only works if you didn’t already think mirror Spock’s goatee is funny as hell. They also call him the prophet for some reason. All in all a weird guy, which means I like him.

Neelix He brought a genuine heart of gold to the crew of the voyager when they needed it the most. A rock, a true friend and a shoulder to lean on. His friendship with Tuvok allowed him to occasionally bring out a different side of the indomitable vulcan. I also liked that his eye color randomly changed with no in-show explanation.

T’pring Spock’s almost-wife T’pring probably has the quickest turnaround from “WTF why is she so needlessly brutal” to “she’s a genius and she’s so logical” of any Star Trek character. She will always have my respect.

Sela It’s just really funny to me that she had all that buildup on top of already being the return of a written-off main character’s actor. And then like, nothing happened.

Kai Winn Opaka There’s something so incredibly about Louise Fletcher’s performance as Kai Winn in the later seasons that I sometimes have a hard time putting into words. She just captures the self-righteous, holier-than-thou, but also absolutely desparate character in such a captivating way- while also maintaining this underlying confidence and power.

“Klingon Chef” Deep Space Nine’s resident Klingon chef/opera singer showed a side of Klingon culture we don’t often see - the civilian side. He truly made the most of his few appearances, and I will always love him for it.

Seven of Nine (Possessed) Maybe it’s because of Seven’s usually stoic, reserved demeanour, but seeing Jeri Ryan take on the exaggerated personalities of a Klingon warrior, a Ferengi DaiMon, and the EMH of the USS Voyager amongst others, was one hell of a lot of fun. Enough fun to end up on this list! Unfortunately, not enough for that Oscar nom. Next time!

Dr. Michael Dingo Dingo’s brief stint as nurse aboard the Enterprise-D established him as little more than a grumpy old man, but he really shone after his promotion to main cast member and CMO of the USS Pioneer. His usual snarky personality being torn down upon meeting his long-believed-to-be-dead wife went down as one of my favorite moments in all of Star Trek. His refusal to poison the crew on behalf of his madly sick captain gave me goosebumps.

Lwaxana Troi She started out as no more than “Deanna Troi’s Annoying Mom” but evolved into so much more across her many appearances. Absolutely wonderfully played by Majel Barrett, the writers explore many facets of sorrow, motherhood, and what it means to grow old. I also believe that she should have ended up with Odo instead of Nerys, but whatev.

Falow The leader of the Wadi, a gamma quadrant species that value various types of games above all else. He and his entourage visit Deep Space Nine and end up throwing the main cast INTO a highly-advanced video game where they think they’ll actually die, but it’s actually just a game. What I like most is that he truly looks like the Most Advanced Gamer. If I was a highly advanced space-gamer this is what I would want to look like.

Riker Picard’s number one actually features on a lot of these lists. They usually list his loyalty or how cool he is or whatever. I’m mostly interested in his absolutely off-the-charts adventurous spirit. He was the first starfleet officer to serve aboard a klingon ship and was GLAD to eat gagh. When he learned that a trill symbiont needed a new host he practically jumped at the chance, despite the fact that no human had ever hosted a trill symbiont before. And he had absolutely no shame in wearing his slutty outfit in ‘Angel One’. There’s many similarities between Riker and Kirk, but Kirk would never have worn it so proudly.

Horny/drunk-ish Picard Patrick Stewart’s performance as a pseudo-drunk and very horny Jean-Luc Picard in The Naked Now has seared itself into my mind forever. It’s like he’s screaming, but also whispering, and sort of putting on an accent? Deciding just how to portray the usually stoic captain so completely out of his element must have been quite the challenge, and Patrick Stewart ended up making some very inspired choices.

Alyssa Ogawa She may not have done much more than help out in medbay every now and then, but the conversations between her and Crusher were the first to show that the main crew actually DO have friends outside the “inner circle”. Does that truly earn her a spot on a list of the greatest Star Trek characters of all time? Probably not but I don’t really care and neither should you.

Grand Nagus Zek Every time he got more screentime I remembered how much I loved his dumbass voice. His shrill bleating is hilarious, and every time he shows up I can’t wait to find out what his latest scheme is. His behavior towards women is regrettable, but that’s true for a lot of Star Trek men and unlike most of them, Zek actually sort-of changes.

Ishka And who is Zek without Rom and Quark’s moogie Ishka? Despite the usual underestimatable Ferengi personality traits, I genuinely believe Ishka could have one of the highest power levels in all of Star Trek canon. Women not even having the right to wear clothes has been a part of Ferengi culture for centuries and she managed to turn it around COMPLETELY in a handful of years. If she put her mind to it, I genuinely believe she could have brokered peace between the Cardassians and Bajorans, and that’s on the prophets.

Jae Yeah, I got a bit of a crush on this frankly random Enterprise-D crewmember. I think she’s friends with Picard? She sat next to him at a poetry reading once. I’m not sure if she even had any speaking lines.

[idyllic-affections]

Your platonic Baizhu fic is so heartwarming!!! Got any more thoughts on that fic???

( Also I think your fic links arent working because they send me to different fic and on chrome instead of the app. Though that might be me ahahaha)

Your amazing and don't let anyone tell you other wise! Bye bye

thoughts on chronically ill!reader.

summary. a collection of random thoughts about baizhu's junior herbalist.

trigger & content warnings. no applicable warnings.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. baizhu & reader, qiqi & reader. 0.3k words. they/them pronouns for reader. i believe the fic that this anon is talking about is invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.

author's thoughts. hello darling! thank you sm, that fic is one of my personal favorites <3 i have SO many thoughts regarding that fic. here are a few of them. feel free to ask me to expand upon anything if you find something interesting!

the implication about baizhu is that he's seeking immortality, right? yeah. i like to think that his sweet lil junior herbalist knows about that and does what little they can to help him—e.g., discreetly seeking information, whether that be through the suspiciously well-informed mr. zhongli or through foreign sources. their morals become somewhat skewed after working with baizhu for a while, but it doesn't really bother them. why would it? baizhu is soft and gentle and kind with them. they aren't afraid of him. they never will be. it's because of his attention and care that they can manage their life. this is how they're returning the favor.

changsheng and [name] ABSOLUTELY, 100% fight for his attention. they have a weird ass family dynamic going on with that snake LMAOO..... baizhu knows about this. he finds it funny.

qiqi and [name] like to wander liyue together. once they develop enough strength and endurance, they'll carry her on their hip and go wherever she directs them. sometimes, baizhu will trail after them (like a father!) and leave the pharmacy in gui's hands. bro is a single dad with two kids and all of liyue knows it.

"baizhu is a coward" not when someone threatens his kid! it's verbal assault ON SIGHT if someone does something to hurt [name]. he hasn't had any need to physically defend them yet thankfully, but he has definitely had a few choice words for certain impatient people.

sometimes baizhu lets them braid his hair after seeing them do it for qiqi a few times. it ends up becoming very normal for them to braid both his and qiqi's hair on slower days.

i hc that there's a room in the pharmacy with low sensory input (dim lighting, limited scents & sound, etc) in the case that anyone needs to rest for whatever reason; migraines, body aches, sensory overload... it's available for any reason at any time of the day. sometimes baizhu and [name] end up in there at the same time and just sit in the silence. it's a bonding ritual of sorts.

thank you for letting me know about the links. i use the tumblr website and it tends to be kind of difficult sometimes; i'll work on fixing the links shortly! in the meantime, if there's any particular fic you'd like easy access to, just send me another ask and i'll direct you to it <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Feb 17, 2024

This is how it begins. “Why not add your pronouns to your email signature?” “Why not announce your pronouns at the beginning of meetings?” “Why not encourage your staff members to ask for pronouns in day-to-day conversation?” After all, it’s just about being compassionate and creating a more “inclusive” work environment. Only a bigot would object to that…

It’s this kind of skewed reasoning that has led to the firing of Fran Itkoff, a 90-year-old volunteer for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, who simply expressed confusion when faced with a request that she add pronouns to her emails. “I had seen it on a couple of letters that had come in after the person’s name”, Itkoff said in an interview, “but I didn’t know what it meant”.

We can hardly be surprised when a nonagenarian is befuddled by this strange new quasi-religious ritual, so rapidly has the practice taken hold. This didn’t stop the National MS Society from turning its back on Itkoff, a volunteer whose commitment to the charity dated back for six decades. For committing heresy against the Holy Creed of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, Itkoff was immediately sacrificed. The statement issued by the National MS Society claimed that her query about pronouns was “viewed as not aligning with our policy of inclusion”.

Declaring pronouns makes little sense in any case, given that they are used in place of a name when talking about someone, not to someone. And besides, human beings are perfectly capable of determining someone’s sex without being told, usually instantaneously. Of course, according to activists, all of this is irrelevant. We are assured that sex has been superseded by “gender identity”, that mysterious sense of self that few of us believe even exists. It would be like being told to announce the colour of your aura every time you began a conversation. 

Like the vast majority of the population, I use pronouns to denote the biological sex of the person to whom I’m referring. And I certainly would not comply if commanded to declare my own due to my innate aversion to any form of compelled speech. The lessons of history are clear: when those in authority begin to demand the use of certain phrases, they have taken the first step on the pathway to tyranny. I do not wish to see a future in which we are forced to stand in lockstep and chant the approved slogans of the ruling class. 

Of course, the declaration of pronouns is far removed from any such scenario, but the principle to me is sacrosanct. I will not be told what to say by anyone, least of all those who claim to know what is best for the good of society. Authoritarians have always couched their demands in faux-benevolence, and we have seen how gender ideologues have a particular tendency to viciousness and bullying. “Be kind… or else” is not a maxim to which I am willing to capitulate. 

To ask for pronouns in the workplace is the equivalent of suggesting that employees pledge fealty to a deity they do not worship. It is a kind of test, a way to ensure that the tenets of Critical Social Justice – otherwise known as “wokeness” – are being observed. Spinoza argued that for any man to “be compelled to speak only according to the dictates of the supreme power” is a violation of his “indefeasible natural right” to be “the master of his own thoughts”. Once you agree to make statements in favour of a belief-system you do not hold, you are surrendering your agency to those who will exploit it. 

While the declaration of pronouns remains a purely voluntary matter, it is fair to say that no-one’s free speech is being violated. But the consequences for non-compliance in the workplace are becoming increasingly severe. Members of staff are passed over for promotion, they are smeared as unreconstructed bigots and “transphobes”, and eventually shunned and isolated. I have written before about friends of mine in the acting profession who feel uncomfortable in stating pronouns at the beginning of rehearsals, but know that they are unlikely to be recast if they refuse. This may not be compulsion, but it is coercion.

We see the same phenomenon on social media, where trans rights activists routinely denounce and defame those guilty of the crime of “misgendering”. They report users in the hope of seeing them banned, contact employers and claim to feel “unsafe”, and even occasionally call the police. This is the essence of cancel culture. They are, of course, free to criticise, even in a robust and rude manner. But to seek to destroy someone’s livelihood for their choice of language is fundamentally authoritarian. 

In the same vein, we have seen a handful of gender-critical feminists attacking people online for choosing to use “preferred pronouns” in certain cases. Again, the criticism is valid, but once it strays into the realm of libel, misrepresentation and character assassination, these critics are merely borrowing from the playbook of trans activists. In the tenor of some of these online free-for-alls, it has been difficult to tell one faction from the other. 

When it comes to the declaration of pronouns, I have often wondered how long it would take before requests transformed into demands. The sacking of Fran Itkoff by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society has the ring of inevitability about it. Many of us saw this coming. This is why we need to be vigilant against anyone who attempts to compel the speech of others, for whatever reason, and in whatever context. If we tolerate this inchmeal erosion of our liberties, we will doubtless live to regret it. 

--

If you haven't been following it, Fran Itkoff is a 90 year old woman who volunteered for the MS Society for sixty years after her husband had MS (multiple sclerosis). She didn't understand what all this talk about pronouns was about, asked, and was then told her volunteering services were no longer required.

Some of you may well go, "ew, LibsOfTikTok, ew, ew." Okay, but hear me out: shut up and read the screenshots. They tell the story.

Kali Kumor is the stupid little girl who removed a woman who had dedicated her life, and worked longer than this vacuous apparatchik has been alive, to helping others.

One supposes that all the MS in the world has been cured, given how eager they are to tell dedicated volunteers that they're no longer needed.

--

A few years ago, there was a fuss about atheists being turned away from volunteering activities.

This is the same principle: adherence to their dogmatic ideology supersedes what is supposed to be their organization's mission and purpose: their "telos". This is why you cannot have two "teloi." One will always win over the other.

This is what I mean by ideological capture. The telos of the MS Society is no longer services and support for those with MS, it's "Diversity, Equity and Inclusion." That's their number one objective. And that means pronoun-policing and excommunicating those who aren't part of the cult.

It would seem both humorous, being so petty and stupid, and sad, given Fran's long service to the organization, but as Andrew Doyle points out, it's more insidious than that. It's compelled speech. It's about punishing those who will decline to be part of - or even simply don't understand - the fundamentalist, puritan religious ideology these fanatics have adopted and imbued throughout the organization.

Just as you must testify to Jesus as your lord and savior in order to volunteer at a soup kitchen or to raise money for cancer, they will demand you adhere to the belief in gender thetans in mismatched meat prisons in order to volunteer for the MS Society. In the name of "Inclusion,"

As Fran mentions, the MS Society has always been inclusive, but what she doesn't understand is that it's now Inclusive™, a brand name which doesn't mean including as many people as possible but including as many members of their cult as possible.

They're not looking for behaviors - e.g. respect, tolerance, etc - they're looking for beliefs. Enforcing a particular ideological belief system. They don't care that you might be an atheist who subscribes to secular humanism, or you could be a Xian who believes we're all children of God, they want to make you believe what they believe.

Resist it. They'll try to act like you're just being unreasonable for a small accommodation, but they know that it's how they get you to start complying with their demands. Like Islam, it's one little thing at a time. Don't draw pictures of Muhammad, that's not a big ask is it? Then it's respecting the Quran, then it's not blaspheming Muhammad or Allah, and so on.

[monstersdownthepath]

Got a bit inspired by the WotR CRPG's Lich path, but what changes, if any, would you make to the Lich template to fit an Archlich, from DnD's older editions (Forgotten Realms wiki indicates they were first mentioned back in 2e, and last in 4e, not very common though)? It may not entirely fit Golarion's cosmology of Undead = Bad, but I find the idea of a spellcaster going into Lichdom for altruistic reasons (like, say, needing an emotionless, painless, nigh-inexhaustible army to stem the tides of the Abyss) fascinating. If nothing else, it might get the Church of Pharasma more interested in a particular cause to get this Lich to up and die peacefully and willingly. And I mention 'changes' since apparently the process of becoming an Archlich was both more difficult, but could yield greater power. Although I can't really find anything to support this claim otherwise, can't find any pages on stats on the topic and searching up 'Archlich' just makes Vecna show up.

-----

Oh wow that's bizarre, I had no idea there was a Good-aligned Lich equivalent in older editions! I'm a little baffled by the fact they didn't think to name themselves anything more creative than just "Better Lich," but the implications of their existence and their creation process sort of does make them Better Liches. If what I'm reading here is correct, the primary difference between becoming an Archlich and a normal Lich is that a normal Lich takes shortcuts in their paths to power, forcing other creatures to bear the brunt of the trauma of their transformation, draining life and soul from others away to sustain themselves. Meanwhile, the Archlich must undergo a quest to discover a 'secret spell' and must learn every single spell required in the ritual; they cannot skimp on any detail, their ascension cannot be done another way, and carries a very real and very intimidatingly large chance that all their preparations are rendered meaningless and the ritual fails by pure bad luck.

Interesting! There's something to be said about the rewards that come from rejecting the path of least resistance.

Also, I wouldn't say Undead are always Bad And Evil, but as we've discussed at length on this blog, in the Pathfinder universe it's very difficult to be an undead that's Good-aligned and especially difficult to STAY good once the transformation is finished. Becoming undead for altruistic and good reasons doesn't change the fact that your soul will now itch to cause destruction and entropy. The urge can certainly be steered in acceptable directions, and in fact in the very video game you've mentioned it's one of the more powerful and useful Mythic paths for doing exactly that in the way you've suggested... but in-game it doesn't stop Pharasma from leering at you, and to complete your transformation into a full-power Lich in WotR you do in fact have to purge Good from your soul. Even your mentor, Zacharius, became a lich for an ostensibly good reason, only for undeath to slowly warp him into something ruthless and pragmatic.

... anyway, that wasn't your question. You asked what I would do to make the Archlich! The good news is that I do happen to have the book their stats appear in (Monsters of Faerun), stats I apparently never read or never found interesting enough to retain, but the bad news is that they're not especially different from a regular Lich, with a few notable exceptions:

--Archliches cannot be Turned by Good-aligned Clerics and are immune to channeled positive energy.

--Archliches have a constant Water Walk effect on themselves.

--The Paralyzing Touch of an Archlich sets the victim in a death-like state of suspended animation, during which the creature does not need to eat, breathe, or drink.

--Archliches can send their spirit outwards from themselves 3/day in a manner akin to, but not quite, Astral Projection.

There's apparently some more details in even earlier books, such as the ability for an Archlich to destroy any Undead being they create with a touch (presumably to end their service), immunity to the attacks and spells of any creature with 6 or less Hit Dice, and perhaps most impressively the ability to passively regenerate spell slots, but I do not have access to that particular book (Lost Ships) at this time to confirm for certain.

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

Listening to Steam Powered Giraffe as I am wont to do when I need a break from Ghost and Honeybee came on and now I can’t stop thinking about Dew and his relationship with the previous era.

Dew was alone for the majority of his life in the pit- not for any particularly tragic reasons, at least in his opinion. That’s just how his particular variant of water ghoul works: Young ghoul pups stay with their mothers till they’re old enough to hunt for themselves and eventually they just kind of… swim off on their own, likely never seeing their parent again unless by chance.

All this to say, Dew was never a particularly social person before coming topside. Being surrounded by so many people when he was first summoned was a hell of a culture shock to him, almost immediately putting him in fight or flight.

It helped that, in my mind, Dew wasn’t immediately summoned into the Ghost project and instead spent his first year as your run of the mill nameless ghoul. Being put on kitchen duty allowed him to watch how the human staff interacted and bonded. Over time, he was even accepted as one of their own, taught to do more than wash dishes and only speak when spoken to.

Yet, even with that, Dew found himself to be… missing something. His new life on the surface had awakened an ache like the pressure of the deep sea- this longing he hadn’t even known was there till he’d gotten the barest hint of fulfillment. It gnawed at him, day in and day out, but no matter what he did, what avenue he went down, he couldn’t find anything to quell the feeling.

And then, after the loss of almost all their instrumentalists, the Ghost project opened auditions.

It was a tense time in the abbey; no one was sure where the project was heading in the aftermath of the banishments and Terzo’s place in the ministry was coming under question. Dew, however, saw an opportunity for something better, something that just might give him the thing that soothed the ache quickly becoming unbearable to him.

And somehow, by a miracle of Satan himself if one were to ask Dew, he was picked to play bass.

And the ache was, indeed, quelled by his time with the band, but not by the fame or attention it brought like Dew thought it would.

No, the relief came in the form of his fellow musicians, both those summoned and those that passed the auditions with him.

The Meliora ghouls were, for all intents and purposes, Dew’s first real family: Aether opened him to a vulnerability he’d never thought possible, even with himself; Zephyr taught him everything there was to know about the abbey, its secrets, and how to make it home; Mountain was a solid figure in his life, a tree to take shelter under when things became uncertain; Mist, though she was no longer a part of the band, was Dew’s mentor in both bass playing and how to be a water ghoul on the surface; Omega, likewise, was as close to a father figure as he ever had.

And then there was Ifrit. Ifrit, the fiery hearth that warmed him in body and soul. Ifrit, his heat and passion natural foil to all of Dew’s cold and disinterest. Ifrit, who knew exactly when to push Dew out of his comfort zone and when to reel back.

The two were instrumental to each other’s growth, with Ifrit the one to go head first into everything and Dewdrop being the one to slow down and think. Separately, sure, they were their own people, but together they made one better whole, bolstering each other’s strengths and balancing each other’s flaws.

And then, one day, it was all taken away.

One day, Terzo was dragged off stage without warning. One day, Imperator decided he would be of more use as a fire ghoul than water. One day, he was walked into the ritual chamber as a water ghoul for the last time, his pack waiting outside the room- not allowed in for fear of interference.

One day he woke up in the medical wing, burning all over, boiling hot from the inside out, and only found Aether and Mountain at his bedside, the both of them wearing looks that told him all he needed to know of the fates of the others.

(Just before the ritual, Ifrit had pulled him in a hug tight enough to press carbon into diamonds, hiding his worry with a smile. “It’ll be alright,” he promised, “when it’s all over and you feel better, I’ll teach you everything I know about being a fire ghoul. It’ll be fun, you’ll see!”)

(What he wouldn’t give to hold him close, him and all his family together, one last time. What he wouldn’t give to be that little water ghoul again, surrounded by love and joy he’d never known before.)

Nowadays, Dew does alright for himself. He runs much hotter than he ever had before, is a bit quicker to temper than he used to be, but his new pack doesn’t seem to mind- and lords below, does he love his new pack with everything he has.

But still, every year on the anniversary of his first pack’s death, he distanced himself from the rest. He grabs a spare blanket and Ifrit’s old acoustic guitar, walks out to the woods outside the ministry, keeps walking till he finds a clearing he and Ifrit shared with one another, a private place for the both of them to get away when things ever got too much.

Dew stops in the middle of the small glade, spreads the blanket out on the wild grass, sits down, takes out the guitar, and plucks out a tune his wildfire used to play him.

“Hello, goodbye, Twas nice to know you, how I find myself without you, that I’ll never know.”

“I let myself go.”

[survivalist-anon]

Log 17: The Dance of the Moon and Crow

Walking around the casino, Bilhard and Sten have separated from Toke and Cahrilo to search for Wick. Although Bilhard and Sten have deduced Wick has to be performing in the show tonight.

Toke and Cahrilo search through their stomachs.

"You mean to tell me....there are places to eat for people to just....gorge themselves on food?", Toke looking at the buffet with Cahrilo.

"Yes. It is to convince people to stay longer and enjoy multiple different items. Personally, this place is useful for us.....", he than takes out hard cash. "I've been saving this in case we can not use the gold.".

Toke looks at the money, looks at Cahrilo, looks at the buffet. "...you are now an everlasting friend to me as if you grew up from the same pack do you understand me?".

Cahrilo, knowing very little of Space Wolf culture, accepts the implications of this.

Bilhard and Sten had now found themselves near the entrance of the performance theater, likely with Wick inside.

"He is here. I can sense his thoughts.", Sten had been using a particular variant of mind reading that Ruin Priests has utilized.

As the two were heading to the door, the security staff had been braze enough to stop them.

"Um sir, we do not allow anyone inside the theater after the doors have closed sir, if you had missed your reservation then you will have to purchase a ticket for tomorrow.", the man who had obligated to wear a modernized butler outfit for the event stated.

"We are here on a matter of importance, is there a chance that we make contact one of the performers for tonight's event?", Bilhard asked politely.

"Oh um...no, and sadly I can't tell you anything else either.", the man responded, "we can't because it's a matter of security and we do not want any of the performers being harassed or stalked by any of the patrons in the casino.".

Sten and Bilhard had a feeling this would happen. "Sten, do it."

He furrowed his brows, "I refuse to do so, it would be a great misuse of my rune abilities."

The door secretary how to become uncomfortable, "uhm okay I don't know what's going on and I don't know if you're doing this for a bit but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, go purchase a ticket at the front counter and return back tomorrow."

"Do it, we are wasting time.", Bilhard commanded quietly.

Sten placed his hand on the security guards head, intruding upon his subconscious, "open the door and lead us to the performers. We come in peace and do not want to cause any harm.", the expression on the security guard space was that of terror and fear....but he was heavily compelled to follow the commands.

"y-yes....f-fallow me." as Sten let go of his head. He slowly walked the two Space Marines to adore that was labeled 'employee and stuff only'. Opening the door with his security badge, he escorted them inside, reading them downstairs to the backstage area where there had been a small group of fans already waiting for their chance to take pictures with some of the actors actresses for personal and press reasons.

From behind the curtain, they can see how the performance was going. Bilhard was a little bit familiar with what had been going on but was disappointed to see that it was not accurate to the literature he had at one point was compelled enough to read. For Sten, this was already a strange and unusual performance, to him this was some bizarre ritual event. However he was enjoying the strange atmosphere of it all.

"this is unusual, I do not sense any chaos here, 'tis heresy by some degree of the definition, but it simply seems like dancing.", Sten remarked.

Bilhard scoffed, "the only thing I see is an insidious display of nearly naked women running away from whatever is chasing them. This is hardly a parody of a performance.".

A gentle poking of Sten's side had alerted him, he looks down and sees one of the female fans.

"Hey there sexy, do you want to take a selfie?", she was waving her phone and attempting to be cute doing it.

Bilhard answered for him, "I'm afraid not madam, we are here on important business, we are not allowed to be photographed.", although he had given his warning politely, he looks down and sees not only her taking a unconsenting selfie of Sten, but along with her friends who were posing with her.

Sten on the other hand did not know what to do, he did not want to object but at the same time he did not want to be in the situation.

"Please, I'm... not interested lass.", Sten wasn't too happy with the flash being on his face.

"HEY GET THOSE BIMBOS OUTTA HERE! NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY IN THE BACKSTAGE AREA!", Sleen I've been watching the whole thing from a distance. "And take their phones too!".

A newly hired bodyguard had taken the girl's phones away and crushed it in his hands. Washing and shoving her out so the back door.

"HEY WHAT THE F-", the girl and her friends have been kicked out of the event, leaving Bilhard and Sten behind with an uneasy feeling that something is going to happen.

"Yous gentlemen ok? Those girls weren't bothering you or anything? Were they?", he came from the dressing room, likely either harassing or getting everyone in line for the performance tonight. Taking a long drive of his cigar. "Well well well.... Look at the size of both of you!", Sleen was at this point marveling at the both of them.

Bilhard was attempting to save face. Although it was helpful that The bodyguard had destroyed the evidence of their existence here in the casino, he was not too sure if kicking the girls out of the event was disproportionate to what had happened. "We are fine sir. They were not bothering us actually."

Sten had a pretty good idea of what Bilhard was doing, he quickly looked into the mind of Sleen for a few seconds.... And his blood went cold.

"you too must be from that Wrestle-ton gig that's happening down town. I have to admit it, if I was attending that I would definitely put my money on you two beasties. I'd really hate to be the guy who would be fighting anyone as big as 'El Nino'.", Sleen cackled with smoke puffing out of his mouth. "The name's William Sleen, had producer, co-director and co-runner of this beautiful production of 'The Pantheon', numba three hit show of Las Vegas for the past 5 years.", he stood there smiling.

"Bilhard, I need to speak with you in private about this man.", Sten leaned in to whisper.

"I know, one second. Sir you wouldn't happen to know a man named Wickovk Korvux? He also goes b-", he could see Sleen's face go from a friendly business demeanor to a simmering anger.

"-You mean...Wick? Yeah..... causing me grief every time he comes here.", he points to the stage.

The lights didn't down as the music becomes more orchestral. Selene appears from the slow rising trapdoor from the middle of the stage. Dressed up in a glimmering white leotard with accents of blue and silver adorning the whole body. A braided cornrows now fashioned into an ancient Greek braided knot, the loose end resembling a crescent moon.

As she was prepared to perform she seemed to define gravity with suspension lines, making her appear as she is just simply flying floating from her point of entry. As the music crescendos, the stage later reveals that there is a much bigger item underneath, a large globe. The sphere was no bigger than a SUV and just about half of that weight, but to an Astartes it was comparable to lifting a large cardboard box. As the Earth literally lifts itself from the middle of the stage, it could be seen that Wick, who had been dressed up as Atlas for this piece was underneath. Seemingly lifting the impossibly heavy structure. The performance was bent of represent how the moon revolved around the Earth, as Selene 'flew' down to greet Wick with a soft caress to his face... Only two be lifted off again for a final act for the scene. She was to lend on the top of the globe, without Wick dropping or moving the globe itself, but lifting himself up from his kneeling position to standing up. As he was able to gracefully move in one flawless motion, it was as if Atlas himself had found the extra strength to hold the world above his shoulders.

The crowd roared and chaired, proving why this was one of the few parts of the performance used for the promotional material.

Viewing from the backstage area, Sten and Bilhard were taken back by Wick's involvement in the show and what he had gotten himself into. He was not a performer in their eyes, but a clown in a tasteless circus.

Bilhard was furious. Sten, not having much context to Wick's behavior how did the unfortunate position of being in the middle of two very different perspectives.

"What a fool....", Bilhard growled.

"He maybe a fool, but he is one of the only few people in this production that brings in the big bucks. The crowd goes nuts when he does it! They probably think that thing weighs a ton! Was with his size, people don't even bother questioning it! He does another parts too you know.", Sleen had been using Wick as a strong man, on occasion as a fumbling hero or in some cases a brutish monster depending on what was chosen for that week's programming. Actively either humiliating him or taking advantage him.

Sleen turned to see the two equally large men and thought of an opportunity. "So....I...ugh...can offer you two a role.", hoping one of the men can replace Wick.

Bilhard gave him a hard stare. "No."

Sleen, shocked that someone would ever say no and turn down an opportunity for stardom to HIM of all people. "No?"

"We are here to speak with Wick. That is our only goal.", Sten had chosen his words carefully, peaking into the mind of an enemy was against his code as a Rune Priest, but for he had discovered ....the potential to cause havoc was a bigger possibility. For the moment, Sten understands why Wick was here.

He was here because his duty and nature had brought him here. Being the son of Corvus, one could not blame him for elevating his goals for freedom. Wether it be his, or that of someone he had deeply fallen for.

After Wick's performance was finished, he headed to the dressing room to get ready for the finale. Another, and hopefully last, performance complete.

"Perfect, after tonight, I s-", suddenly the ear grating voice of Sleen twinges his eardrums for yet another time.

"Wick! I got a pair guys here you know.", begrudgingly points to Bilhard and Sten who had followed him.

Caught by his own battle brother, Wick couldn't help feel betrayed in some way. The only one he could blame was himself. "...oh...Hello Bilhard.", he looked at Sten, not recognizing him with his wolf shaped helmet. "I see you've brought a friend..."

Bilhard was furious, the antics of a teenager had more reason than prancing around on stage. He looked at Wick with disgust, a once admirable Raven Guard, pretending to be some primordial heretic god from the past...all for what? "....You are going back to base EFFECTIVE immediately.", he didn't care what Wick had to say, all he knew is that he was done having to babysit another Astartes.

Sleen on the other hand was enjoying the prospects of having Wick be forced to quit. "OH? You're military big guy? HA! What did Mommy and daddy didn't want you to go to art school or something?".

Knowing full well he needed to focus for this performance, he ignored the both of them. Silently changing wardrobe.

Selene had just come a quick conversation with someone, "Wick, mon corbeau, that was a great perf-oh.", she had notified Sleen standing next to Bilhard and Sten. She looks at Wick with concern in her eyes.

He gives a reassuring nod and smile. "Thank you. You were perfect as always.", he would have called her by her pet name, but he didn't want to give Sleen the impression they had been seeing each other.

Sten now gazes at Selene, using his abilities on her, now fully painting the big picture. "Good evening, your performance is was lovely, and I was impressed with Wick as well.", trying to at least break the ice more gracefully than Bilhard.

She was looking at Bilhard and Sten with curiosity, were they related to Wick more than simply by occupation? They're stature points to a different direction in her mind.

"ORION AND ARTEMIS ARE UP IN 20 MINUTES!", the stage director announced.

This was more than an opportunity to attempt to at least talk to Wick in private, away from the two mortals that have gotten themselves in the middle of them.

"We need to speak to you in private.", Bilhard glared at Wick.

Sleen, with a grin that reaches ear to ear, "Well I know just the place. Right this way gentlemen.", he leads the three men into a private office, turning to Selene with restrained frustration. "As for you...my little bird, you....are going prep for the show....", this wasn't his usual sleezy annoyance at her antics. This was more serious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By this point, I had gotten use to Bilhard's drilling from the years of crossing him and his strict line of code.

I'm just disappointed in myself for having been caught...I wonder how much they had witnessed.

"-AND GOING AWOL TO PARADE YOURSELF LIKE A CIRCUS ANIMAL?!? DO YOU HAVE ANY UNDERSTANDING OF THE DISRESPECT YOU HAVE BROUGHT ON THE ANONYMITY CODES OF FORT DORN!?", to compare my to a beast of entertainment is a rather corse way of describing.

But it is worth it considering I could spend just a few more moments with Selene.

Just one more inquiry had gnawed at me the moment I saw him, "Pardon me, but who might you be?", I look to the what I could easily deduce was a Space Wolf. Finally, a reasonable Astartes who could at the very least sympathize with my mission.

"My name is Sten. I have been requested by Chaplain Aldercon to assist in returning you home. As soon as possible.", judging by his cadence, he was a veteran. Experienced, likely have mellowed throughout his years in service...and judging by the markings on the base of his neck, a Rune Priest.

Simply to put, a wild card psycher.... knowing very well of our own chapter's psychers. He can be trusted to an extent.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to me you. I assume you understand why I am here, wolf brother.", i addressed him.

I could see the look of disbelief on Bilhard's face, "What the hell is he talking about Sten?".

"He's here on a mission that best suits Raven Guards. He's here to help someone. That girl....the one you performed with....you are set on freeing her from her..... services.", Sten's respect for Raven Guards Sten from their shared empathy and desire for rebellion. The only difference is that they follow the Codex rather than go against it.

The softening expression on Bilhard's scowl had gave way for second, "....is that so? I guess the duties of an Astartes never cease.".

"I did not want to tell you or Aldercon because at first it was...well mostly for my own reasons. Than, as I had spent more time here, I had found purpose in my desire to challenge myself. Not with competition but rather in hopes I can make a difference... even if it one person for now.", Wick lamented as he was putting on his Orion costume.

Having more design inspiration from medieval Europe rather than ancient Greece, the costume was an awkward fit.

"I see.... your goal is admirable....fine, you may finish your mission, but once you are done you are never allowed to come here again. We can not risk exposing ourselves. If you want to, once we go back to Fort Dorn, we can initiate something of this nature for you.", Bilhard began to understand Wick's desire. Even though to him this was a risky use of the resources, he understands that compassion for mankind comes before their own desires.

Something he himself had to learn the hard way.

"ORION AND ARTEMIS ARE UP!", the director announced the last call.

"I must leave, I hope to leave with Selene tonight.", rushing quickly out the office.

The both were at a loss for words.

Sten glanced to Bilhard, "it must be a little difficult for you to understand.....but there is far more than duty behind his motives.".

"I understand perfectly. It's that this could impede on our task to protect mankind covertly...... we...can not let anyone know.", as Bilhard was still stern yet more understanding.

Wick and Selene's performance had begun. As the lights went up, the symbolic hunt of Orion for Artemis had begun. What can be interpreted as the nature of man and woman, predator and prey culminating in the natural order or at the very least by Sleen's interpretation.

By no means was it an original concept, in fact the performance may have been plagiarized directly from other dances.

However instead of a shocking and with Orion forcing himself upon Artemis, is now a gentle waltz between the two characters. As one slowly accepts the other.

The two had never been so close publicly since he had started. This was the only way to demonstrate their love for each other. As the perfect crescendo, the final step was for Orion to lift Artemis was one hand, as she arches in a man of reminiscing a crescent moon. As he placed her gently down, an arrow strikes Orion.

Ceasing their love, for it had become forbidden by Apollo for his virgin twin to ever be soiled by another.

And in the performance on a sobering but tragic note.

The crowd roars like never before, for those who had come to see this version of the show or met with a refreshing and tasteful ending for the first time in the performances existence on the Vegas strip.

Sleen, who had seen his version heavily criticized prior to today's alterations, was not too pleased to see how much of a success these changes were. "Hmf, looks like these schmucks haven't even heard of dark comedy?".

As he was stewing in his own frustration at the success of Wick and Selene's performance, Hans had returned.

Covered in suspicious bruises.

"BOSS the staff! They JUMPED me a-", he was stammering and embarrassed. The whole time he was gone he had been kept in a local strip club away from the strip, probably having the time of his life and only remembering he had one job to do.

And Sleen was a scary man.

Who knew scary people.

"AHHHH SHUT UP! You're lucky you're just a muscle. And I've got some... interesting things to tell the Club back at the towers about not just one suspected buck...but three whole steers.", he than held a USB card. "Hehe, strong looking ones too...... guess 'El Nino' will finally have someone to play with.".

End of Log 17

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @walking-natural-disaster

@starfrost740 @squishyowl @sleepyfan-blog

@lawnchair86

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice.)

• Characters: Takatora Samura (Last Boss), fem!Reader

• Genre: Angst, fluff (turned out more fluff that I intended)

• Warnings: detailed description of death and decay, talking about the meaning of life

Angst Prompts - #8

Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ

Since I came into this world I saw and felt absolutely everything. I saw people laughing like maniacs right before a laser shot trough their head. Saw people crying about still being alive and how they prayed for their death or the courage to end it themselves. I saw craziness, hope and despair. And I felt all of it too. I cried and laughed, I mourned and partied, I felt how sanity and craziness alternated my brain and I felt how grateful and yet unappreciative I was for being alive. It felt like my brain was eating itself.

Back in the real world, living always felt like a burden. You were alive because you had to. I was sick of it and longed for a change. Now life was a privilege and I still didn’t know how to feel about it. Do I want to go back? Or do I want do find the meaning of life here? Questions over questions flooded my brain and just as I thought I was about to drown in them I met him.

Last Boss was a skinny guy with lots of tattoos covering his body. He looked impenetrable and always had a katana with him.

He understood me. He was like a drain to my overflowing head and our talks helped me to empty out the water soaked dizziness my brain was drowning in.

One night I talked to myself as I sat on the rooftop, hoping if I ask my questions out loud some intention of mine would answer me. „What is life all about?“

Instead of getting an answer by my intentions, the stars, god or whatever, Last Boss answered me. „I never figured it out. But since I am here, I feel like I am closer to the answer.“

Maybe it was fate. We both went upstairs regularly but somehow we always missed each other. But tonight, with my head heavier than usual by all the stuff around me, he suddenly was there.

Since then we met up almost every evening to talk. I never had so honest and deep conversations with anyone else before and for the first time it felt like someone gets me, that I don’t seem crazy. We talked about our lives before and what we wanted to leave behind, about the definition of good and evil, about how moral codes doesn’t exist in this world and how life becomes a deeper meaning here. Last Boss was determined to stay here until the very end, I for my part was still unsure, but the imagination to stay and have this conversations with him until one of us died sounded surprisingly tempting. I know that I fell for him at the worst time possible but what I also know is that I wouldn’t trade what we have with anything in the world. It seemed more meaningful than anything I’ve experienced before.

„Are you afraid to die?“, I asked him one night as we once again lay next to each other in bed, another ritual we started one day without any particular reason.

„No“, he simply replied. „Are you?“ I thought about it for a second before answering. „I don’t know“, I say. „Probably. But not more than I am afraid of living.“ Another statement any other person would‘ve called me crazy for, but not Last Boss.

„I really like you, you know“, I admitted after we both went silent for a while. „You do?“, he asked, nervousness painting his voice. „I do“ I reassure. „Not a good time for things like this. Or maybe it is, I don’t know. I just wanted to let you know. You get me, you know.“

His hand touched mine and quickly linked its fingers with mine. „What do you think happens after we die?“

Another question I have to think about. I’ve asked myself this a couple of times but never really came to a conclusion. „I don’t know“, I said again.

„I think we will become one with the earth“, Last Boss whispered, brushing his thumb over my hand. „I like that“, I admitted with a smile. „That would make us being of use.“

The tattooed man let go of my hand and turned on his side to look at me. „What do you mean?“ I rolled on my side too and looked into his eyes. „If we don’t get cremated our bodies will rot away, feeding the worms and the ground. Our death will be compost for new life to begin and spread.“

„That‘s beautiful“, Last Boss whispered. Other people would frown and call him sick for viewing this morbid fantasy as beautiful, but I nodded confirming. „Yeah. Maybe that’s the meaning behind life.“ „To die and create room and resources for new life. To keep the cycle upright.“, he finished my thoughts.

The dim light shined through the window on his face, lighting it up just enough for me to see his dark orbs that stare right into mine. My hand brushed over his cheek while I can’t help but to smile. He placed his hand over mine to make sure I wouldn’t move it away, then he whispered: „I don’t care about the time.“ Obviously picking up my on my confession again.

My smile got even wider as I brushed with my thumb softly over his lips. Then I got closer to him and pressed my lips on his. And again. And again.