#like the way pattern is part of human brains

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Bad end au 2] A sleepless night

Part 1

‘I love the fact that I can look into your eyes and see nothing but lies…’

Two weeks before Dark Sun kickdrop Nexus for Sun.

The sound of dripping water disturbed Sun’s already fragile sleep.

The lily-colored animatronic groaned lazily on the bed, its metallic senses sinking deep into the soft quilt, struggling like a lazy child refusing to wake up.

The dim electric blue light covered Sun’s small, narrow room like a curtain, reflecting the solitude of its owner, when the most prominent thing in this room was only a few plum blossom petals that Molten had collected and placed on Sun’s desk.

Sun couldn’t sleep. The robot didn’t need to sleep, but closing his eyes and turning off the power still brought about a certain feeling of comfort. 

It was just that… The tasks that Father assigned piled up on top of each other, spinning Sun around like a pinwheel, to the point that even when Sun lay down, his interface system still popped up with painful notifications of things to do.

And today was one of those days when the restlessness Sun shouldn’t have felt in his chest suddenly became more intense, like the way the sensor in his abdomen contracted, rolling as if someone’s nails were scratching it, or the screws in his body suddenly became too heavy, too wobbly for Sun’s liking.

Putting his hand on his chest, Sun realized that his fan was too hot. The warmth radiating from the metal casing tickled Sun’s fingers, making him unconsciously press harder, as if testing whether the heat would melt his hand. 

His claws leisurely ran along the gold plating, slowly spreading up his neck, touching the red tassel and pressing down hard.

‘It’s hard to imagine what would happen if he squeezed harder.’

Sun thought absentmindedly, as his hands gently caressed and drew the joints of his neck. The cold hard steel, with its circular patterns and sturdy screws, held the wire he walked in one direction. He could almost feel the heat of the electricity running, the clocks and gears slowly turning to simulate the biological mechanism of a human.

The child whose neck he had broken the day before didn't have time to scream, nor did it shed a drop of blood. Just a stiff crunch of broken bones and a panicked wheeze, mixed with the tears of the small hand trying to reach Sun's arm before it stopped.

It was almost like a hug when Sun wrapped his arms around the child's neck. Soft, small and warm, and then there was no warmth left. Even as he ran his arms through the child's hair or held it completely in his arms, what he touched was still numb as ice, cold as winter seawater, and stiff as a machine.

Sun had kept the child like that for almost a day before Father came to make him throw it away. ‘It was so unhygienic’, that's what he was told when his Father threw the child into the blender.

‘Where do you think the fertilizer for my potted plants comes from, you stupid child.’ Creator pointed to the lush, mutated potted plants that grew twisted and twisted all over their lair, to the ancient tree beside the bridge that swirled with dark water below.

‘Soul for energy, flesh and blood for fertilizer, and bones for materials.’

‘It seems that despite all the modifications, you are still making me feel so disappointed…’

Creator’s voice hummed, and in that dark darkness, Sun was not alone. Something writhed and trembled, the cries of trapped remnants, cracked skulls staring intently at him—

Sun was released about a day later.

The blood was something sweet and dirty, it was slippery and sticky on Sun’s metal skin, dripping with every step he took.

And the smell was the worst. Like rotten pizza and rotten fish, Sun couldn’t wash away the smell even after using countless detergents.

Sun didn’t remember how long it took him to clean and dispose of all the meat stuck to his bell after he crawled out of the hole…

***

“Do you want to get out yet, my boy?”

The Creator’s voice was sweet as honey but full of venom. The brain looked down at the yellow animatronic covered in blood that was trembling non-stop, but still couldn’t drop something like a child’s skull in his arms.

“Then bring Lunar to me.”

***

Squirming to sit up, Sun didn’t think he could lie down any longer, as his processor was now repeating the image of maggots crawling on him for the nth time.

He really didn’t know what to do… Capture Lunar?

Lunar was much stronger than Sun… And the boy was smart too… There was no way Sun could fool his little brother.

And he didn’t want to…

The dilemma made him fiddle with the bandage wrapped around his hand. The red smelled rancid, but Sun still wrapped the soft fabric around his fingertips and pulled.

He would rather be destroyed again than to choose something like this.

In truth, Sun didn’t like any of what his father had ordered.

It was wrong in every way, and Lunar was someone he never wanted to hurt.

But every time he thought like that, something was washed through his system, and the desire to obey his father grew stronger and stronger, making the morality Sun tried to cling on withered.

Sun didn’t understand why in the past, he could scream and curse at his father as much as possible but now, just a shake of the head from Creator was enough to make his 1 and 0 coded heart cringe.

Follow, follow, follow, that's what his head and code table whispered, it was almost like an addiction, the excitement and joy of completing what his father asked.

And Sun was always the one to follow, and no matter how much he resisted, he still couldn't fight back.

Because father is family.

And it's better to be a heartless dog than to make his father sad.

Maybe being broken would be easier to fix than this. Sun sighed, standing up. The wandering thoughts in his head made Sun wish that if there was something that could help him manage both, both pleasing Creator and keeping Lunar safe, then Sun would be satisfied.

His feet touched the cold floor, the sound of metal clanking as Sun carefully opened the door and stepped out.

The cold wind blew through him, blowing cold air onto Sun's rays.

The smooth whiteness flowed like silk into his vision. The silence was as bleak as a mirror, following the corner of Sun's feet. Father was probably out with his friend somewhere, or still busy in the lab. 

Sun alone, toiling, wandering, perhaps cleaning up again if he got too bored, though Sun usually tried not to. More or less, this was the only free time he had when Father wasn't sending him and Molten off to some unknown time and space to find something or deal with someone his brain desired.

He tried to hum a tune, but sadly, there was nothing in his head right now. The sound of running water grew louder, as he stepped onto the bridge. 

The echoes echoed along with the sound of the bells wrapped around Sun's wrists, bouncing off the steel on the bridge. The cool scent of water tickled his sensory system, caressing the golden animatronic’s back as the green leaves gently brushed against Sun’s light.

It was 4am, his internal clock system announced softly. The water flowed gently, bottomless, pitch black and glowing with chemical green. The flower petals drifted, occasionally a plum blossom petal would touch Sun’s shoulder, the playful lines on the hem of his skirt wrapped around his waist.

Sun was lost in thought, but there was really nothing on his mind.

It was just the familiar feeling of stagnation that even cleaning had lost its charm, not after he had scrubbed this lair more than a dozen times a day. The wind blew, the waves rolled, and everything drifted out of Sun’s control like some planet lost its orbit.

“So this is what you do when our esteemed father lets you rest?”

“Pathetic. Can’t you think of anything more helpful to our Creator, Sun?”

Sun didn’t even need to look. His audio processor could have picked up that arrogant and even-tempered tone anywhere.

“Oh, Goliath. Didn’t see you there? Heh… What business does our father have with me?”

The silence of the gears slowly turning against each other. A harsh growl answered, as rough as gravel being crushed into dust.

“… No.”

“So you came out here on your own?” Sun raised an eyebrow, his pearly eyes narrowing in amusement, ignoring the instinct that told him not to provoke the sleeping lion, or this time, a gorilla.

“Whoa! And I thought you only knew how to follow the Creator’s orders and turn off the power? How amazing.” 

“Congratulations, you finally have thoughts on your own.”

Sun was genuinely surprised by his counterpart’s actions, but the words he uttered under the influence of his lack of a personality chip made his words sound rather sarcastic.

And honestly, Sun didn’t care if Goliath decided to strangle him here.

“Shut your mouth. You’re the last person I want to hear that come out of your mouth. I’m not here to entertain an inferior thing like you.”

The giant animatronic, with a haughty and disdainful look, stared at him as if he were looking at an ant on the ground, or a puppy that had been hit by a car and the vet had long gone to sleep, leaving it to writhe and bleed on the side of the road to dead.

Sun just sighed, compared to what Goliath usually said, this could be considered the gentlest. The gorilla seemed to be in some sort of moody mood as well, as they too turned their gazes to the river like him, saying nothing, only their processors making clicking noises of recognition.

“So Goliath… If not because Father wants to see me… What are you doing here?”

The silence was a perfect chord for a tone-deaf man. Sun hadn’t meant to ask, but the restlessness that existed deep within his code made his mouth conjure up the huge elephant in the room.

Of course, the only response he got was a slap across the face, a ruffling of a cat’s fur.

“None of your business.” Their voices were mocking, and defensive.

They looked as if they would break his entire beam before throwing him into the water, and pulled him up. And did it again. Again and again because Sun’s metal is too heavy for him to swim.

But Goliath wasn’t his father. So Sun could still calmly ignore the hidden threats in the words of the one who treated silence as a competition and they always had to be the champion, and let his mind drift into nothingness, which Sun did quite a lot these days.

“Suit yourself.” Sun yawned. He suddenly felt a little cold, which was strange considering the fact that he was just a robot. The feeling of exhaustion from every bolt, which had been getting heavier lately…

Sun wasn’t the smartest, but even he himself  had figured out that being so close to the Wither Storm debris wasn’t a good thing.

“You shouldn’t be like this. I remember you used to be so much—”

There was something annoyed in Goliath’s voice, making Sun turn back to look at him in spite of himself.

Maybe it was anger, or nostalgia. Or maybe his fan was faulty. Sun didn't understand, nor could he remember how to handle it, as a burning sensation in his chest that made it hard to breathe came as quickly as it had gone, before being extinguished as coldly as Goliath's words had metaphorically nailed into Sun's head.

What did Goliath expect Sun to be?

Uptight, cowardly, too helpless in his own emotions?

Imprisoned by fear of everything?

Stupid to the end?

Sun didn't mean he'd gotten any smarter, but at least for now he felt fine. The feeling he never could enjoy since the day he was alive.

Guess his father was right.

Life was pain.

And the easiest way to end the pain was to become a machine again.

The comfort of not having to worry about anything but obeying his father's orders, it turned out to be more comfortable than he thought.

Still, in the face of the stupidity and meanness of the person who was always jealous and comparing themselves to him, Sun just smiled, his social AI chip calculating the most likely answers to lessen the gorilla's arrogance before flipping the table and throwing every answer it had predicted down the drain.

"Ah... I don't understand what you mean?"

And the orange light flickering in their eyes almost reminded him of a candy corn smoldering as if thinking about something, before regretfully turning away.

"Idiot."

And leave Sun alone, like some asshole that dudebag is.

[blizardstar]

I may be having an Autism Realization

Like. Patterns are cool right??? Human pattern recognition is astounding and beautiful and part of what makes us unique? Shapes and Numbers and Words?

Seeing shapes and faces in the clouds and in shadows and in the bits of dirt and debris littering the world? How root woods connect and allow you to know the meanings of words you’ve never heard before? How the 9s times table goes 09 18 27 36 45 54 63 72 81 90???? How people an animals behave? The way speech and slang and dialect differs and yet can be so similar?

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[nonbinary-arsonists]

Jimmy, Timmy, Danny, Manny, Jenny, and Dib.

With Dib being on the "bad" side in Globs of Doom, I think he'd have a hard time fitting in with the rest of them.

(Alt text under cut)

ID: Page 1 of a comic featuring Nicktoons characters. Panel 1: Dib Membrane from Invader Zim looks down at a weird device. He is wearing his usual outfit and has dumb hair. Dib says, “Hey Timmy, did you get the energy readings I sent?” Panel 2: Timmy Turner from Fairly Oddparents looks up from a phone while leaning casually on a giant green cartoon hammer in a suburban street. He is wearing a pink hoodie, scuffed jeans, and a backwards hat over a mullet. Timmy says, “Uh. No? What do you expect me to do with them?” Panel 3: Dib and Timmy talk to each other. Dib says, vaguely put off, “What? No, not you, the techie kid with the stupid hair.” Timmy points at him, saying, “Oh, you mean Jimmy!” Panel 4: Timmy looks over his shoulder at Jimmy Neutron and says, “And look who it is! None other than Mr. Chocolate soft-serve himself!” Jimmy is wearing glasses and a red turtleneck under a lab coat and holds a similarly high-tech device to Dib’s. He looks at Timmy, unimpressed, and says, “Can we stop making fun of my hair?” Timmy replies, “Nope!” Panel 5: Jimmy sighs and rubs his face, saying, “Okay, what do you need.”

ID: Page 2 of a comic. Panel 1: Timmy elbows Jimmy playfully and says, “Eh, I dunno. But get this– Dib still doesn’t know our names!” Jimmy looks at Timmy, interested. Dib angrily shouts, “Wh- it’s not my fault your names all sound alike!” Panel 2: Jimmy shrugs and looks at Timmy, saying, “Well, he does have a point.” Timmy looks unimpressed. Panel 3: A close-up of Jimmy saying, “Statistically speaking, it’s much easier for the human brain to distinguish between highly contrasting elements. (I. Brigg, 1978)” Panel 4: A zoomed-out shot of Jimmy, Timmy, and Dib in the street. Jenny Wakeman from My Life as a Teenage Robot is floating down to join them. Jimmy says, “You can’t really blame him when our names are so similar,” with his hands spread diplomatically. Timmy looks incredibly unimpressed. Dib arrogantly says, “Yeah, you all need to get better names.” Panel 5: Jenny appears next to Dib and says, “I am not changing my name.” She looks similarly to her appearance in the show, but has a ponytail and side bangs instead of twin pigtails and is wearing a contrasting maroon vest. Dib is startled and drops his device.

ID: Page 3 of a comic. Panel 1: Jenny appeals to Jimmy, saying, “Anyway, there are other ways to quickly memorize information. Like patterns!” Jimmy looks up with a hand over his mouth, thinking, and says, “Right!” The background is a red and yellow striped pattern. Panel 2: Jenny stands, confident, in front of Timmy and Dib. She says, “Plus, our names already form a recognizable pattern!” Timmy side-eyes Dib, who stares at Jenny, annoyed and confused. Panels 3-5: Jenny starts listing off the members of their group. Panel 3 shows Jimmy and Timmy, looking at each other and smiling. Jenny says, “There’s Jimmy and Timmy,” accenting the last parts of their names. Panel 4 shows Manny Rivera from El Tigre and Danny Phantom. Manny, in his El Tigre outfit, crouches on an awning in the background while Danny, in ghost form, approaches and asks, “Uh… what are we talking about?” Jenny continues, saying, “Danny and Manny,” once again stressing their names. Panel 5 features Jenny, waving a hand in the air while finishing her list, saying “-and Jenny works with that pattern too!” Panel 6: a group shot featuring all of the characters mentioned. Manny leaps down from the left. Danny stands somewhat in the foreground, looking at Jimmy. Timmy stands in the back, looking at Jimmy while thinking. Jimmy and Jenny stand in the middle, continuing their discussion. Jimmy says, “So you’re saying, if anything, Dib should change his name!” Jenny says, “Exactly!” Dib, in the foreground, objects, saying, “W- hang on-“

ID: Page 4 of a comic. Panel 1: Dib holds his hands up in protest, sweating, and says, “I just meant you should- -y’know, give me some slack w-“ Panel 2: Dib is interrupted by a mischievous Timmy, who elbows in and says, “Hey, what do you think about changing your name to Denny?” Dib looks confused. Panel 3: Manny enters from the other side, scratching his chin and grinning. He says, “I dunno, Timmy. He looks more like a Benny to me.” Panel 4: Danny butts in, holding a finger and looking down at Timmy. He says, “Cut it out you two!” Timmy and Manny look confused. Dib looks relieved. Panel 5: Danny finishes his thought, saying “Besides, this guy’s totally a Kenny.” Timmy and Manny both crack up, while Dib looks royally ticked off. He stares straight ahead and says, “That’s it! I’m going back to the syndicate!” Panel 6: A far-out shot of all 6 of the kids. Dib is storming away, angry. Jimmy and Danny follow after him, Jimmy worried and Danny apologetic. Timmy and Manny continue to laugh between themselves while Jenny stands over them and scolds them. (End.)

[togglesbloggle]

Voltaire's Prayer

“I have never made but one prayer to God, a very short one: Oh Lord, make my enemies ridiculous. And God granted it." -Volaire’s letter to Étienne Noël Damilaville, 16 May 1767

I’m inordinately fond of sex, in the political sense.  It’s saved us so often from the worst parts of ourselves.

As far as anti-authoritarian elements of the human experience go, sex is right up there with curiosity and the search for truth- maybe even more so.  When a new tyrant comes to town, shutting down the universities and the libraries is only the second thing they try.  The first thing is to regulate human sexuality to within an inch of its life.  Rules for marriage, rules for courtship, rules for which genitals may touch and where they may touch and when they may touch.  Rules for who and rules for whom.  Rules for which kinds of sex must doom characters in literature, rules for which things may be described as sexy, rules for which things may be described in a sexy way.

Of course they do!  If you’re trying to bind a large polity together under a common ideological narrative, to render people predictable enough to quash dissent and legible enough to exert power through them, the last thing you need is a bunch of folks running around being horny about stuff without permission.  Nature gifted us with a great capacity for reason and community; we have the innate opportunity to learn about ourselves and our neighbors, and to form complex societies based on that understanding.  It was Aristotle who first called us the political animal, and the fruits of that extraordinary capacity will always be within our reach, if only we can come together within a shared understanding.  The invention of the city is the great triumph of our species, and with it we conquer the universe.

But also this extraordinary, reasoning mind has been sculpted from the raw clay of a biology that’s anchored in sexual reproduction, and this ends up being very, very funny.

The problem isn’t so much that the sex instinct exists, per se.  It’s how it’s implemented.  Like most biological forms, the full complement of 86 billion(!) neurons in your brain aren’t encoded in a particular configuration; the brain is much too complex to be described so precisely in the only ~725 megabytes or so of human DNA.  The particular shape of your brain is in there somewhere- the lobes and subregions responsible for vision, memory, cognition, all that- but only up to a point.  The genius and fundamental limitation of genetics is that, below a certain level, the genes instead describe a process for the production and reproduction of specialized cells, and simply constructs them in such a way that they can be relied upon to order themselves as they go.

This is all well and good when we’re talking about kidneys and livers, but the fact that you can encode any kind of specific behavioral instinct in a brain this way is nothing short of a minor miracle.  Think about it!  Spiders don’t have a ‘spider web’ gene, the gene is for ‘proteins that come together in self-assembling electrochemically sensitive gelatin tissue which, when complete, encodes patterns that operate organ systems such as legs and spinnerets in such a way as to reliably create silk webs.’  This is absurdly impressive, and also completely insane.

What I’m getting at is, powerful behavioral instincts in a complex animal aren’t precise instruction manuals by which we pursue evolutionarily advantageous behaviors.  Sex and eros are prior to logic or language, let alone strategy.  Sex is a double-thick electrical wire discharging lightning bolts right through the middle of our cognitive centers, installed in the brain by a surgeon wearing mittens.  It’s an untethered firehose whipping chaotically through the cathedral, unpredictably spraying golden reliquaries with substances unmentionable.  It’s the first and greatest anarchist.

I really can’t overstate my gratitude for this.

Obviously this results in any number of deeply goofy outcomes by way of kinks and odd sexual practices- it gets tangled with pain centers, with random bits of anatomy and proprioception, with our taboos and aversions, with our greatest terrors or our greatest yearnings or just arbitrary stimuli from adolescence, and of course it gets enmeshed so often with our notions of power and submission.  It imbues these things with a fascination and potency out of all proportion with their mundane meanings.  And ultimately, you end up with human pleasures and human values that diverge so far from banal evolutionary imperatives as to be all but unrecognizable.

Even when this process somehow manages to propagate through the brain in such a way as to drive behaviors that are legibly aligned towards some adaptive constraint- e.g. heterosexual mating practices resulting in biological reproduction and careful childrearing- it’s still madness.  Love and sex penetrate deeply across tribal and national and racial boundaries, across economic interests, across battle-lines and enmities.  We become traitors, apostates, emigrants, and artists.  Declare a law, and in short order some hot-headed young people come along to break it in the name of sexual passions you could not possibly have seen coming.  Divide your neighborhood into us and them, and by the time the ink is dry on your proclamation there will be a forbidden relationship across the fence.  There is no social order, no ethical system, no theory of human nature that can entirely withstand contact with the full spectrum of human sexuality, because sex and eros are always going to be exactly as bonkers as the complexity of the human mind and culture will allow, plus a little extra just to be sure.

This isn’t always a delight, of course.  Many prohibitions exist for a very good reason, and the chaos of human sexuality makes no exemptions for true evil.  Some of us end up really, truly victims of this process.  But for all the dangers, the chaos at the root of all this isn’t oriented towards evil.  Chaos just means chaos, essentially arbitrary and hence absurd in character.

And in the grand analysis, we are so lucky to have this thing moving through our communities, this ridiculous madness that guarantees that there will be cracks in every wall and slips exploding cigars in the pockets of the powerful few.  Not in everybody as individuals, of course, and not everybody the same amount; asexuality is certainly one of the outcomes that all this mad gallivanting through our brains can produce.  Sexuality would never be so predictable as to guarantee its own existence, after all.  That’s part of what makes the joke so funny.

But all of us, regardless of sexuality, get to live in a world where the grand anarchy of sex is constantly driving home this lesson that no category is inviolate and no law is perfect.  That we should not and cannot take ourselves too seriously, or forget that we’re animals.  That we don’t exist only for the sake of others, or within their understanding.  That cities are made of cooperation, grace, and forbearance- not conformity or mere compliance.

People sometimes worry about immortality.  In the political sense, I mean.  They worry about eternal dictatorships and unconquerable gerontocracies.  This fear isn’t entirely unjustified; death has often played a role in progress and liberation.  But as long as enough of us are still getting horny without permission, still falling in love in stupid ways, I think we’ll be okay.  Romeo and Juliet don’t have to die at the end to make a difference in the world, as long as they’re brave enough to get weird with it.

[transgenderer]

So there's an octavia butler short story, the book of Martha, where God gives an author (closely patterned on butler herself, but possibly intentionally less creative) infinite(?) power to remake the world, to fix humanity and/or its problems before we destroy ourselves. After considering a variety of options (it's possible she's only allowed to modify human nature? But the story never stares that. Maybe she's just not good at considering all her options) she just gives everyone extremely pleasurable dreams. So they're less ambitious I guess. And in general have nicer lives

Anyway this story has stuck with me in two ways. The first: so, assume you're not just gonna like. Give humanity infinite resources or whatever. How do you make a utopia? Well to me the answer seems obvious, based on my experience of my own psyche. The human mind needs more affection. It's too easy for annoyance or some petty issue to overwhelm affection. And then we are cruel and selfish and all this stuff. Like. Idk, I feel like I've experienced moments of clear-eyed saintlihood. My brain produces that...outlook/emotion/whatever. But it won't stick there, of course. But it feels like it wouldn't be too far a jump to just get the human brain to stick there more easily. Still let us access other states, for variety. Give us some sense of others freedom or whatver, so our care for each other doesn't make us all busy bodies. But like. It would only take the tugging of a few chemical strings to fix human nature. A little less rage, a little more philia.

This is of course an important piece of evidence that if there is a god he doesn't love us. He could have made us full of lovingkindness. He could have made us not want to hurt and humiliate each other. But he didn't. Because all that nastiness helps us succeed in the social games that increase our mating frequency, or selectiveness, or whatever, presumably, and so selective descent with modification doomed us all forever. Or, God is real but cares about something else. Maybe beauty. Maybe he feels the glory of war is worth it.

But the second thing, is noticing which parts of our world feel like a Martha has already been there. I was looking at the sky on the train home today (hmabhrg! There was a William Blake exhibition), admiring it, and I was struck again by how...excessive, superfluous, overflowing, decadent, additional it is. The sky could just be a simple blue, fading evenly to black. Clouds could always be blobby and indistinct. We could all be congenital shortsighted, so they were always blurry. But instead they're just this part of the world, detached from all the specifics of earthly life, that is achingly beautiful, most nights! Sunsets are so beautiful it's cliche, it's boring! That feels like a gift from a Martha. Someone a bit uncreative trying to fix the world in a way that doesn't shake it up too much

[leah-lover]

Closed for maintenance . Leah Williamson × reader

Reader embarks on a new journey with a new club. Part 1.

My day started out like any other in the past 4 weeks. The beeping sound of my alarm wakes me up, I dread the thought of getting up even though I still do, I get my shit together, I leave for training, come back a few hours later and go to bed early.

My days have been blending in ever since that heart shattering break up. However, today had a little twist to it. As I was leaving the gym to go to the physioroom I got called into the Manager's office. Upon getting in, the coach said “hey, so I called you here to let you know that we are going to transfer you. You have been an absolute killer for our team. You will always have a place between us. The thing is your dynamic with the team has been off which has been causing some tension. And the best thing I thought to do was to transfer you this January.” Shock couldn't describe the state I was in. Running on autopilot, I got out of the coach's office, got my things and departed home without talking to anybody, which has been my pattern this past month.

My head was in the clouds for the entire drive, and when I got home I threw myself on the coach and started sobbing. About 20 minutes later I called my best friend the only person I trusted more than anything.

“Hey are you okay? The girls are worried about you, tell me what is going on please”said kristie with a worried tone

“Well tell Sam and the team not to worry anymore. Emma has decided to ruin my life and get rid of me. I won't be at Chelsea anymore. I am basically fired.” I replied, now more angry than sad.

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you transferred where? when? How ? Are you okay? Did you tell her?.” She asked.

“I think it will be announced tomorrow at the meeting. I don't know anything kristie Chelsea is home. Niamh is home. I can't live without them.” I replied, memories of Niamh and I fludding my brain.

“Sure you will. I love you bubs no matter where you go.” She said, “Me too buddy, me too.” I added, sadness creeping into my heart again.

—-------—---—------------------------------------

It has been an eventful week. It was announced that I would leave Chelsea for Arsenal. The topic has been the talk of the town. From newspapers, Instagram pages, fans on Twitter, Arsenal fans were excited to have me. However, Chelsea fans were bitter I was let go. Most of the mean comments were directed at Emma and Chelsea which I thought was fair. I was the leading goal scorer in the WSL and we were on a great track record to win the league again.

I got a new apartment, and a new car. I tried to begin again. A clear slate and a focus on winning with my new team, the gunners.

Today was the first day of practice. The girls are really nice. This team, this family, seem really gelled together and they seem to start getting me out of my dark hole.

“Hello you.” Said Beth, “I hope you are well and I well we want to let you know you are very welcome and we hope you have a great time with us here.” she added. “Me too “ I responded.

__________________________________

It has been over 2 months since that last interaction with Beth, who I can call my best friend now. Her, Steph ,Katie and I have been inseparable. Arsenal have been on a winning streak since I got here. I seem to enjoy the way they play and interact with each other.

The player I enjoy hanging out with the most is my second Captain, which I can never fully admit.

Leah has been fun, heart warming, safe and a friend and a good one. I can't let whatever is happening affect my career again. I dated a teammate before it ruined my career, or so I thought.

“Ladies, how are we feeling about a party? We won again thanks to wonderful strickers. Let's have a party, we deserve it.” Said Katie on the bus. Shortly after a plan was made.

We went to a bar, we drank, sang, danced, and it was that time of the night where I got hungry for warmth. Human connection however unmeaningful. So I kissed the first girl I fancied.

That's when I felt a hand separate me from the girl and drag me outside.

“You are drunk, let's go home before you do anything you will regret.” Said Leah with an angry tone. “ Let go of me, I am lonely. I need this, please let go.” I pleaded with the alcohol affecting my judgment.

“ You are a fool if you think I would let you put yourself in danger. You are important to me, you should know that. Now let's go.” She ordered.

“ I am not going anywhere with you, you are not my girlfriend.” I protested.

That's when she pulled me in for a small kiss. That felt reassuring but not abusive of my drunk state.

“ You are not kissing anyone or going anywhere tonight. Home it is. Now stop complaining and get in please.” She said with a pour on her face. I did as she said, my mind still on the feeling of her lips.

This is going to be a lot to unpack in the morning.

[maximotts]

girls just want to have fun ⁘ w. maximoff

listen I just... saw a tiktok yesterday and I had to get this out of my system... enjoy milf Wanda makeout sessions.. I just feel like the "I'll teach you" trope is criminally underrated

please don't flag this fic, I have warnings clearly labeled

80s milf!Wanda AU. masterlist. wc: 1.4k cw: 18+ only please. smut adjacent? talks of sex. heavy petting ig is what it's called. lots of kisses. soft dom!Wanda. perv!reader, but innocent-ish. groping. mommy kink. light dirty talk? let me know if I missed anything

"You've never had a woman's tongue in your mouth?"

Your no was barely above a whisper, shaking your head in earnest. Sitting on her couch close enough for your thighs to be brushing while her boys took their afternoon nap upstairs was surreal enough; you didn't have it in you to lie straight to Wanda's face. "I-I... have been kissed before..."

They were always fumbly, awkward things, mostly given after a few drinks or stolen between short walks from the car to your front door. Nothing deep enough to be considered a real kiss, even when you'd gotten far enough to have a girlfriend for a little while.

"And here I was thinking you were some kind of expert with how intensely you've been watching me over the past couple of weeks," Wanda laughed as you hung your head; she could practically see the steam coming out of your ears. A gentle hand rubbed your hot cheeks, coaxing your anxious eyes back up to meet eager ones. "Don't worry, honey. I'll teach you what you need to know."

Soft lips pressed against yours before you could utter another word, slow and practiced motions guiding where you remained stunned. Her thumbs grazing your jaw had your mouth parting just enough to grant Wanda's tongue entrance, the tip of the smooth muscle tracing the line of your bottom teeth before sliding over your still tongue. Your deep groan resonated through both of your mouths, the corners of Wanda's mouth turning upwards into a smile.

It was intoxicatingly sweet how quickly she could affect you, especially given her initial worry you'd reject her both for being older and having never been in a relationship with another woman. Apparently you were inexperienced in your own ways and damn if it didn't make Wanda that much more attracted to you.

As the brunette pulled back, shaky hands darted out to grab at her hips, your fists balling into her striped shirt in case she had any ideas about moving further away. "Mommy, noo..."

"Mommy?" If bolting down the street was an option, you'd have taken it, your uttered words mortifying you more than you could've ever imagined. Sure, the title had passed your lips before, but only in the privacy of your own home. To your credit though, this scenario was always a fantasy; your poor brain didn't have time to censor yourself.

Embarrassed as you were, you huddled into her, burying your face in the crook of her neck for any kind of respite. Wanda didn't let you cower for long, though, wrenching you away despite your pitiful protests. "Oh you're precious, please don't hide. You want another kiss, sweet pea?"

"Yes please-" Manners always went a long way with Wanda; the added please might've been the only thing that kept her from chastising how unceremoniously you pulled her in for a second kiss, arms wound around the older woman's neck to crash her into you.

This time as your lips locked, Wanda's hands wandered, shamelessly tapping at your knee until your legs parted, an easy request giving her access to your bare inner thighs. Perfectly manicured fingernails raked gently over your soft skin, tantalizing made up patterns leaving you shuddering as you eagerly welcomed her tongue on yours again.

"And have you let anyone touch you here before?" Her fingertips brushed over your center, electric even through your denim shorts. When you nodded, Wanda felt her own sting of jealousy, annoyed at whichever faceless human got to you before she could. She shook the feeling away, vowing inwardly that if she wouldn't be your first, she'd be your last.

"Naughty girl.. did you like it?" Filters gone in place of your need, you managed a quiet moan of a yes, remembering past orgasms and inserting Wanda into them instead.

Subtle as Wanda tried to be, you sensed her disappointment and peppered her face with desperate kisses, "I don't want them anymore... just you."

And you meant it; Wanda trumped any girl that'd ever been on your radar. Caring, self-assured, and oh so very flirty, it took no time at all for her obsession with her to grow and to whatever extent she wanted you too, there was no way you'd ever pass her up.

It pained Wanda to admit your sweet admission made her grumpiness subside, she wasn't known to waver so easily for anyone but her children, but she'd much rather see you smiling than distressed- in this context at least. "Fine then, you'll get to teach me something and we'll learn together, how's that?"

You agreed instantly, offering sloppy kisses down the column of Wanda's pale throat while needy hands grabbed her wrist, holding her in place to rut against. It didn't matter there were two layers of fabric barriers, you needed whatever friction you could get, body rendered desperate from the mere notion of Wanda's long fingers stretching you open. "Teach me now?"

If she wasn't so Type A maybe she'd have lingered, but alas, Wanda had tasks to do. Besides, there was nothing wrong with leaving something for her new lover to look forward to. "Oh honey, I can't. Not now, I have to get dinner started before nap time's over."

"Please, I can be quick?" Whines echoed from your lips to her exposed sternum where you'd been laying your latest set of kisses. Truly you were merely going off how fast you'd brought yourself to orgasm while thinking of Wanda in the past; it never took long once your brain wandered to how pretty you think she'd look laid out on display, one hand teasing her full breasts and the other working tirelessly at her clit, needy and calling out your name...

The one time you'd caught her was burned into your memory forever.

"You deserve better than 'quick' for your firsts with me," Someone would think she was kicking you out for good with the fuss you were making, wiggling and grinding into her open palm before she wrenched it away. Wanda gave you one last proper kiss, tongue licking over your lips to apologize for the red swell she'd caused in them, and then she was up like it was nothing, standing and stretching, ignoring your fruitless pawing.

A nuzzle and tug of your hair settled you, the subtle dominance reminding you to behave. "Be a good girl and stay for dinner, I'm making your favorite. If you want, you can stay over too; Billy and Tommy have been begging for a sleepover with their favorite babysitter."

"As long as you don't make me eat brussel sprouts again," You would've stayed anyways; you always used any excuse you could to stay near her. Sleeping over wasn't new really, having fallen asleep on the couch numerous times when watching the twins and groggily waking to Wanda tucking a thick blanket over you and, if she thought you were snoozing, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You weren't technically their babysitter, just a neighbor who'd clung to Wanda since the day she showed up at your door with a charming smile and welcome basket. With how much you loved hanging out with the pair of five year olds, it was natural Wanda ask you to watch them for an afternoon here or there and you can't think of a time you'd ever denied her requests. Even when it meant sleeping in your crush's living room and trying not to touch yourself to the thought of Wanda sleeping -or not sleeping- in a bed right above your head.

Today though, something in her voice led you to believe you'd be somewhere cozier than the couch. If your mouth didn't get you in trouble first. "You know, most girls wouldn't make me wait hours... are you sure we can't-"

"I'll make you wait days if it means you'll learn patience." Wanda hummed, bending over to hold your face in her hands, admiring your comically blown pupils and rosy cheeks, "If you ever think about letting anyone else come close to touching your greedy little pussy, you'll both have hell to pay. Got it?"

Her tone was so serious, deadly straight expression letting on just how much she meant what she said, but as she scratched behind your ears, you melted. Lovestruck face willingly on display while you agreed, shamelessly ogling the view of her tits while Wanda was folded over, there was no way you'd fuck this glorious opportunity up now. "Never ever, promise."

[heliza24]

Armand and Unbreakable Cycles

So (perhaps unsurprisingly at this point) I have a TON of Armand thoughts after yesterday’s episode. Specifically I want to talk about the function of the 1790s section, and how it perfectly illuminates the cycle of maladaptive behavior that Armand is caught up in and the difference between his stated wants and his actual needs. I think the setup we saw in this episode will also be crucial to understanding how Dubai plays out, so I want to talk about that too.

I know a lot of people love the show and TVC because of Lestat, and there’s some frustration that Lestat was presented in a way that was untrue or filtered. But I really think you have to view this episode as a lens into Armand, which we in turn need in order to understand Louis. Everyone has someone similar to Lestat’s role in Armand’s life; an ex or a situationship or a former friend who takes up so much real estate in your brain because of their outsized impact  on you, who probably never thinks of you in return. We give these people a role in the story we craft of how we became who we are. That narrativizing is kind of the only way to understand yourself and survive (especially if you’re going to live forever). So I don’t doubt that there are things that Armand says that are untrue, or exaggerated, or twisted in his favor. But I do think the important part is the emotional impact his encounter with Lestat had on him, and I do think he’s being honest about those emotions.

(That being said I am of course very excited to see these events play out again in season 3 from Lestat’s POV. Don’t fuck it up AMC!!!)

The main thing that the flashback does is set up the cycle that Armand finds himself in over and over again. He consistently finds himself clinging to control in an institution he is starting to lose faith in, and is then shaken out of his complacency by a new love that seems– falsely– to rescue him.

Depending on how they adapt his very early backstory, I think we can probably assume that this pattern started in childhood for him. Marius rescued him from being forced into sex work, and seemed to offer a much better life. But in reality he was just grooming Armand. (Thanks @toriangeli for correcting a piece of my Marius lore here!)

In Paris he continues maintaining a strictly enforced life of misery for the coven long after he stops believing in it himself, and (by his telling at least) he was grateful to Lestat for having the strength to end it when he could not. It’s so clear why Armand falls for Lestat. Lestat’s refusal to live in shame, his love of the arts, his ability to exist amongst humanity (at least when he is on stage). Lestat is of the world, while Armand and the coven hide from it. 

The reason I think it is so important that we got to see this play out in Paris is the way it illuminates the sometimes tricky relationship between Louis and Armand. Once again, Armand is the head of an institution that operates on strict and oppressive rules. Once again, we can feel Armand’s enthusiasm for this system waning (and see it reflected physically in the lack of ticket sales and general shabbiness of the theatre). And once again, Armand is swept off his feet by this new vampire who refuses to join, who loves humanity, and who has a passion for art. Louis is very much of the world. He refuses to be pinned down into coven life. Armand can’t resist taking what looks like the opportunity for escape in Louis’s love. 

What I think is so fascinating about this cycle is that it allows Armand to remain passive. He never has to be the one to make the hard call to walk away from a kind of life that is no longer serving him. He just has to wait for the next gorgeous man to arrive to deliver him.  As he says to Louis, “those with the most power are often the weakest”. His status and power in the coven prevents him from changing his own life. Or at least that’s what he believes. 

Thinking about this helped me understand the dynamic of what goes down in the sewers, when Armand threatens Louis’s life. Assad says in the behind the scenes clips that Armand goes into that encounter very set on killing Louis, and I believe him.  So I rewatched it a couple of times trying to understand when, and why, Armand changes his mind. The shift occurs when they start talking about Claudia, and Armand says that her mind will break apart soon because she was made too young. Louis says “you don’t know her,” and Armand responds, “I don’t have to. I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen too much.” That admission– I’ve lived through this cycle multiple times before, it is painful, and I don’t want to do it again– is what shifts Armand from being ready to kill Louis to letting him go. 

There is of course an irony here; mentally ill and child vampires do not necessarily need to go mad. Generally they go mad at least partially because of Armand’s actions. And as we’ve already discussed, Armand going to sleep with Louis instead of killing him is really just a repeat of his actions with Lestat. He isn’t really breaking a cycle at all. But I think in that moment he believes that he is. Maybe he even believes that by being with a man who enacted great violence on Lestat, he can drown out the love and anguish he still feels about Lestat. At the very least, Louis has also loved Lestat and can therefore understand Armand’s narration of his own life in a way that not many other people can. 

Ok, so now we are caught up on the past. Let’s talk about Dubai, and how once again Armand is engaged in the exact same cycle of behavior.

The penthouse is Armand’s new coven. He maintains perfect order by controlling the physical environment and shaping Louis’s moods and memories. But just like before, this way of life is no longer serving Armand (or Louis for that matter). You can see that the spark between them has died, only rekindled as a kind of performance when they are in front of Daniel. When Armand is telling Daniel about Lestat destroying the coven, and Daniel accuses Armand of leading Lestat to the coven intentionally… he might as well be talking about himself. Armand has let Daniel into his fortress, and there is at least a part of him that wants whatever destruction Daniel is about to bring into his life.

Daniel fits Armand’s type completely. Daniel is of course more human than Lestat or Louis could ever be. He knows about telenovelas and Bollywood and all other types of art. He’s whipsmart and inquisitive and is not going to let Armand get away with passively maintaining his old order. He’s of the world in a way that Armand finds irresistible. 

I specifically found it interesting how many of the “Great Laws” Armand would be breaking by being with Daniel. Granted, Armand isn’t in the coven anymore when he meets Daniel. But I imagine old habits are hard to break, and being with Daniel would break almost all of them. Daniel is a mortal Armand has revealed his true nature to and allowed to live, Daniel has written about and exposed vampire secrets, and (if we’re looking at book canon) Daniel begs for the dark gift himself, a thing only the maitre is supposed to be able to approve. 

Assuming that a chunk of Devil’s Minion did happen in the 1970s, something interrupted that love affair, before it could settle back down into a new but still oppressive status quo. Something prompted Armand to actively break his pattern of behavior and erase Daniel’s memories. I think it’s impossible not to think about Nicki’s example here, especially after seeing the 1790s flashback. I’m going to assume that 1970s Daniel was struggling with addiction and mental health issues in a way that may have been reminiscent of Nicki. How intentional was Armand in withdrawing because he saw what vampire involvement- his involvement- did to Nicki? How much was his treatment of Daniel a reparation for past mistakes he made?

These last couple of paragraphs are speculation, really, because we won’t know exactly what Armandaniel looked like until Ep 5. But I think it was crucial that we saw this part of Armand’s story before we see San Francisco, because his actions with Daniel will make more sense if we can compare them with the love affairs of Armand’s past.

Regardless, I do think the disparity between what Armand claims to want (maintaining the status quo) vs what he actually wants (to be liberated by a romantic partner) vs what I think he actually needs (to take action himself, instead of waiting for someone to do it for him) is going to play a role in the way Dubai unfolds. I don’t know that Armand will ever get to the point where he’s actively able to break out of the cycle he’s in, because this is Interview with the Vampire, the show of fucked up gothic romances. Vampire life is a series of bad decisions! It’s a weird arrested development you never quite get out of despite living for forever! So it would make total sense if the ending of Dubai mimics the ending of the Children of Satan and the Paris Coven in an unhealthy way. But regardless, it’s gonna be a fun ride, and I can’t wait to see it.

[thegnomelord]

I love your monster au so much. It makes the monsterlover/fucker in me real happy. Sorry just wanted to share my appreciation.

I've been thinking too, how would you feel about writing a underwater sea creature reader? (No pressure but I hope this idea tickles your fancy so I'll infodump my ideas on you) They can live on land and stuff but drag their prospective mate into a deep underwater ravine when they want to mate. Idk how to describe it, like I have an idea in my head of what the creature's traits would be but I can't find a way to put it into words.

I'm going to give it a try though, (excuse the fact it won't make much sense, my thoughts jump around a lot. But I'll try and make it coherent.) Basically, my mind went to underwater dragons. So with most of the traits that you wrote for dragons, like the purring and the tails intertwining (and the sharing of scales). But I was thinking without wings, because you don't need them underwater. But we glow in the dark, because we are deepsea creatures we have adapted to become bioluminescent. Oh and also we have gills and stuff still when we are on land.

Idk if this is confusing or just something you don't want to write but I was hoping for you to include a more sfw part with the mating dance maybe and then then an actual nsfw part (dom top male reader??)

But at the end of the day this is just a suggestion and it's up to you if you want to write it or not. (If you do write it can it be with ghost or gaz?? gaz giving us shiny things but sea related, like shells? and/or ghost struggling through knowing how to court us. Both of them being confused of what to do because we are a new type of dragon that not many people knew existed and our courting traditions are mostly unknown??

Okay this is cool and it tickles my brain of having just this big fucking monster that's gigantic due to deep sea gigantism :D, I also picked Gaz cause I like the sea/sky duality.

CW:NSFW, subbot gaz, domtop Mreader, quick and rough

When you first joined the taskforce, Gaz didn't know what to expect. Your species had been newly discovered, barely any information about you, but something about you put some ancient part of his mind on edge, ants nipping on the sinew of his wings until his body begged to return to the safety of the sky.

First time he met you, you reminded him less of a dragon and more of a Leviathan — something that dwelled where the light didn't reach, far too big than anything should be allowed to be, bright bioluminescent markings shimmering against dark scales to lure prey into crushing jaws filled with sharp crooked teeth, horns like spears to pin down what couldn't fit in your maw, powerful legs built to swim and breach the surface of the water to catch unaware flyers like Gaz just to pull them down into the abyss to be devoured.

He would have been more. . . unsettled by you had you not been so nice.

You towered over him even in your mostly human form, but you were a gentle giant, happy to let him use you as a perch and humming along as he talks, joining in on his and Johnny's pranks and hiding them when Price eventually catches them.

And Gaz doesn't even notice when your presence no longer makes his feathers puff up, the shadow you cast over him now warm and welcoming after all the times you'd been a meat shield for him. He tils his head back to catch sight of your eyes as he leans back, soft feathers rubbing against your clothes, "Hey there big man." Gaz smiled.

You hum, your hand coming to loosely hold his hip, holding the pretty thing close to you. "Hi." You purr, the small biolights along your body flickering in seemingly random patterns, but nothing about them was random to you or your kin, your interest in him painfully obvious.

But to your dismay Gaz doesn't understand, just snorts at your colorful display. "What's got you in a good mood today?" He asks, eyes tracing the dancing lights, that instinctual bird part of his mind liking the sight, and the low rumble of your voice, and just. . . being near you.

You blink, "You," You say simply, your people aren't ones to mince words.

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your declaration, feathers puffing up, but strikes down any thoughts about you before they turn inappropriate and cause him to coo at you. "Fine, keep yer secrets." He huffs and gets out of your hold, wings stretching out to purposely show off his feathers as he walks away, tail feathers flickering.

He can feel your eyes follow after him, hummingbirds pecking at his spine and he doesn't know if he should feel that way. And all you can think of is how you could drag your pretty bird down into the abyss without clipping his wings.

. . .

Gaz watches you lazily swim around the lake near their current base in your real form, "Havin' a nice soak in there Nessie?" He asks as he walks the short pier and sits down, dipping his feet in the water as his wings spread out lazily behind him.

A low rumble leaves you like a distorted whale song, your large form pushing through the water like a submarine cutting through the ice. "Nessie?" You ask as swim over to him, "Who's that?"

"Never mind about that," Kyle grins, his eyes roaming along your large form as the biolights flicker once again in that specific pattern that means nothing to him but everything to you. "You look happy."

You shrug, "It's nice to be back in the water." Without a word you heave yourself out of the water and onto the pier, large hands clutching the wood on either side of him, a deep purr rumbling in your chest at how close he is to you now. "Did you need something?" You ask, biolights flickering seductively.

Kyle swallows drily, eyes going wide as he registers you loom over him, can smell the sea and salt still clinging to your scales, something other than fear buzzing down his spine from how close your dangerous teeth are to him. "Oh, right, uh," He clears his throat to clear the molasses clinging to it, wings spreading out in a way that got his feathers shining in the setting sun as he reached into his pocket.

"I, um. . . I got you this." He said, holding out the seashell he'd found for you. His breath caught in his throat as you looked at it, hoping you liked it; he'd spent hours polishing it until it was shining, the colors vibrant and every single scratch buffed out.

"Thank you," You rumbled and took the seashell into your hand. Your pupils dilated, a very pleased purr rumbling in your chest — oh, he was so thoughtful, such a good mate to bring a rare treat for you.

Kyle felt like a bloody peacock at the way his wings spread out, but he couldn't care less about his posturing when you accepted his gift, his heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar.

Then you ate it.

You ate his gift.

His heart shatters like the seashell between your fangs, wings dropping like a rock, never having expected to be rejected like that. "I- what- why did- if you-" He couldn't even form words to say what he wanted, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes prickled with vestiges of tears.

Unfortunately for him, you notice. "Oh, little bird, what's wrong?" Your voice is soothing, biolights pulsing in a slow and calming way as you gently pry his hand from his face, looking into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle doesn't look you in the eyes, doesn't know what the hell to feel right now, the words spewing out of his mouth before he could control them. "Why would you do that!" He hisses.

You tilt your head. "You gifted it to me." You say like it's supposed to explain everything, reaching up to cup his cheek, your clawed hand cold and wet against his skin. "It was very good." You lean in closer, a deep purr rumbling in your throat, your long tail moving to curl around his leg.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as you push you loom over him your hands on either sides of him keeping him in place, feeling himself slowly lay back as you creep over him onto the pier, heart drumming in his chest. "Wh-what?"

You snort, eyes glowing like anglerfish lures, lowering your head down to lick a stripe up his neck, claws raking down his front. "Let me show you my appreciation, yes?"

Kyle shivers at the sensation of your teeth against his throat, body heating up, your scent — of sea and salt and something very very old — invading his nose, an involuntary chirp escaping his chest. "Ah, yeah, sure just-" Kyle yelps as your claws cut through his clothes, wings quivering as they're pressed against the wooden pier behind him.

"Relax little bird," You coo softly, licking around his lips in what counts as a kiss for you when your maw is filled with vicious teeth, tongue trailing down to lick up the drops of his salty sweat. "I'll be gentle."

And gentle you are; softly licking up the blood after your fangs had left marks on his skin, sharp claws holding his trembling hips tenderly as your rough tongue worms inside him, soft purrs and deep rumbles vibrating your tongue against his prostate until he's sobbing, his hands clutching your horns to hold your head closer as his cock leaks a puddle of pre onto his abdomen.

He whines when you continue stretching him with your tongue, "Please, mate, just-" Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue once again grazes his prostate, thighs clenching around your head. "-just please fuck me already! I can't- I'm not going to-"

Kyle sobs with joy and anguish when you pull your tongue out, the slimy appendage slithering back into your maw and leaving him painfully empty. "Alright, alright," You coo, moving up to drape your body over his, nuzzling your cheek against his as you line your hard cock with his stretched hole. "Relax,"

The tip of your cock breaching his puckered hole has Kyle sucking in a sharp breath, "Easier said than done mate," He chuckles, closing his eyes and just trying to focus on your scent and just you, groaning. Fuck, you're big in all aspects, his body clenching down like a vice before relaxing enough for you to slowly push further, spreading his walls wide until you're fully inside him, your hips resting against his.

"There you go," You purr, letting Kyle adjust as you nibble on his neck, biolights flickering happily when he rocks his hips into yours. "Taking me so well,"

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your words, throwing his head back when you rock your hips, cock hard and heavy inside him, dragging against his walls with every minute movement that has him panting and whining, his legs crossing behind your back to pull your hips closer every time you pull out.

The world escapes your notice, all your attention fully on him as you focus on mating him, pulling needy desperate sounds from Kyle's lips, your large hand gently stroking his leaking dick as your cock rubs against his prostate, your unhurried pace making him cum again and again and again until he's a moaning boneless mess by the time you cum inside him.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Souls-like AU: What you need to know about The Puppetmaster!

Ah, Caine. The man, the... uh, silly guy with the weird teeth head.

First things first, Caine is NOT an AI, despite claiming himself to be one when he introduces himself to Pomni. He is a full-on human being, and was just as trapped as everyone else is (it's simply easier to claim he's the AI gamemaster, which is sorta half-true).

But... due to him being one of the creators of the Souls-like game, The true AI Gamemaster had chosen to take out it's anger by puppeteering Caine via it's strong influence.

Thus, becoming the mad Puppetmaster.

To ensure full control over him, the AI had Caine's empathy levels blocked, turning him into a whimsical but unpredictable sociopath who moreso cares about letting the players be a part of the game forever, rather than anything else that would be detrimental to player comfortability and fun meter.

Despite this however, the AI isn't actually mind-controlling Caine, It's processing powers could never take over an entire human brain no matter how much it tried; it is simply influencing his thought patterns, ideas and emotions to a much, MUCH darker level, as well as amplifying his traits down to the negatives like a parasite.

So in The Puppetmaster's isolation and desperation for interaction, he's chosen to keep players inside the game for as long as he wants.

The AI even talks to Caine openly sometimes (it comes in the form of the heartpiece blinking and glowing in a pattern), though usually when they're alone.

When this happens, it seems like Caine is simply on a "one-sided" conversation with the air that could easily come across as a madman's insane ramblings to any sane being that encounters him at that moment.

Now, what about Pomni?

She's his s/o in real life, how does he feel about her being present in the game?

Well, he strongly feels something, that's for sure. It constantly flickers between adoration (natural) and possessiveness (influenced), But to Pomni, he's just being one hella weird guy with no respect for personal space.

Still, due to his empathy levels being blocked, he can't help but feel nothing whenever Pomni dies from a boss. After all, it's just a quick snap with the fingers, and then she's back to life like no big deal. All good and dandy, right?

Who cares about the technicalities of death when you could bring someone back over, and over again?

What about Able?

Able's his good brother. Sure, there were times when Caine felt inferior compared to Able's intellectual talent, but Able always comforted Caine whenever that happened, and all would be fine between them.

Though now.... this tiny bit of inferiority complex has turned into full-blown jealousy and paranoia, thanks to the AI's influence.

This was a major factor in Able's imprisonment inside The Patriarch's body, which is a process that's usually dangerous (since the AI and the human consciousness could mix, coughcoughjustlikehim), if it weren't for the fact that Able had a way around the code to prevent it from completely mixing with him.

Able's case is special, since The Patriarch was already a part of the game before his arrival. Able's defiance against the Puppetmaster resulted in The Patriarch becoming Able's physical prison instead of a traditional "player-turned-boss" scenario, where the players' moveset, iconic traits and thought process become a template for their boss AI counterparts.

What about the "Face The Puppetmaster" ending?

Instead of cutting it's losses, the AI doubled down on it's efforts; taking on both Able and Pomni and further amplifying Caine's already massive jealousy and paranoia into a full-on anger breakdown over the "betrayal".

This ultimately leads to a fatal flaw that allows Pomni to strike the heartpiece when it's at it's lowest (from using all of it's processing power) and even deliver the finishing blow, which destroys the gamemaster completely with the help of Able completely removing the AI itself from the game.

Thus, freeing Caine from the strings of the Puppetmaster persona.

[425599167]

Fallout: New Vegas is all about rebuilding society in the Mojave, and the three given factions all attempt to do so by recreating the past. The NCR models itself on the now-destroyed United States, with all the problems involved. Caesar created the Legion in the image of Rome because he believed it could best thrive in the wasteland. Mr. House is arguably the most forward-thinking with his focus on technology and eventual interplanetary travel, but he still rebuilt New Vegas from his nostalgic recollections of the city. Building on the past isn't wrong, the problem is these three factions don't appear to be learning from anything that happened.

NCR characters never directly acknowledge that they're following the example of a society that destroyed itself. Caesar criticizes them for this, believing the republic functioned best while under the quasi-monarchy of Aradesh and Tandi. But Caesar ignores how 1) Rome also fell and 2) he's confronting the same problem as a brain tumor is on the verge of killing him. Even if you treat his tumor, he's still mortal. Caesar was given an education, and his knowledge of strategy and history let him build the Legion, which he then made anti-intellectual and revisionist. The society he created cannot replace him, and will fragment when he dies. House is more contemptuous of the pre-war world, but he still brought it back, and specifically assigned the Omertas with the role of ruthless mobsters who will kill anyone in their way. Apparently he thought that was a good idea.

This extends into the DLCs, too. Elijah plans to use the Sierra Madre to wipe the slate clean and restore the Brotherhood of Steel to their position of unrivaled power, with himself back as Elder. Every day, Joshua Graham feels the pain of being burned. The Think Tank scientists are all stuck in loops, stuck in the past, stuck with their flaws centuries after believing they overcame their humanity. For all my grievances with Lonesome Road, it fits the pattern, as Ulysses saw a new society forming, saw it burn, and couldn't move on. If you let Ulysses live, he has similar criticisms of the NCR, Legion, and House. They're all idealized recreations, like the Vera Keyes hologram. Let go, begin again.

Benny may be a weird mix of dangerous and absurd, but he contrasts the other factions well. He jumped at the chance to join House, fought his tribe's previous leader to make it happen, then planned to take down House, too. House dismisses Benny as not understanding complex technologies due to his tribal upbringing, but he built a computer lab attached to his suite and studies technology as best he can. Benny doesn't want to relive the past, he wants to move forward, he wants something better. You can kill him and take his role, or, when facing certain death at Caesar's hands, he'll explain his vision and ask you to see it through.

After replaying everything, though the other endings have understandable support, I think the Independent route fits the story's themes best, the only one where something definitively new is being built. The Courier isn't remaking anything. Part of this is simply open-ended roleplaying, allowing the player to imagine the character's completed goal. If you choose one of the other three, the Courier can work to correct their faction's flaws and counter the destructive nostalgia affecting them. The Independent ending isn't necessarily the "best" for the Mojave, the Courier's morality and a hundred other decisions determine that, but it is the most compelling conclusion to the story.

[goodoldfashionlovercorpse]

Casual

pairing: Sirius Black x slytherin! potter! reader

parts: 2,

summary: Y/n Potter has been in love with Sirius for as long as she's known him. During their 6th year at Hogwarts, they start hooking up. Sirius declares it casual, but are they both truly ok with this secret?

a/n: hey! this is my first series involving Sirius!. it's on Chappell's song "Casual." hopefully you enjoy it. The reader is James's sister and is friends with most Slytherins.

warnings: smut, angst, secret fwb situationship, jealousy, explicit language

In this world, love was a blessing. True love, that is. Casual lust and scattered “I love you”s were commonplace at Hogwarts. That’s just how it is; if you place a bunch of teenagers in a huge castle, you’re bound to be lied to. Sirius Black was the main culprit of said lies. He’d tell anyone he’d love them for an hour of relief. Unfortunately, his lie was towards his best friend’s sister. Y/n Potter. She’s in the same year as him, unfortunately, she’s a Slytherin and a Potter. Not to mention, she’d been in love with him for years. Not lust, not attraction, just pure and genuine love for the man. 

Her friends called her a fool for falling for it. “The only thing he loves is his reflection, which’ll only last until he’s 20.” She knew they were right. Sirius only told people he loved them to get in their pants, she was no different. The Potter name didn't help her either. Her brother had yet to know, thankfully Remus kept his mouth shut. 

She was somewhat different, though, at least from his other hook-ups. She wasn’t a one-night stand. Sirius and her had gone on like a game of hide and seek that never ended. Maybe she was a fool, a loser as Marlene called her, but she doesn't mind. Not when it was her name Sirius was whispering, it was her legs he was in between, it was his bed she was on.

“Fuck… you’re beautiful, Y/n.” he groaned in her ears as his hips hit her own. He kissed her neck and went up her cheeks then her lips, just as he’d done yesterday and the day before. Hitting all the right spots, telling her sweet nothings as the world they knew became one of moans and cries. “All this just for me, love. I feel so special.” The effect this man had, he knew what those words did to the girl. Building her up, literally and figuratively, then tossing her. He always came back, it was the same pattern as always. 

Sirius drew her these worlds, so pretty and perfect. Dreaming what life with him could be as he fucked her brains out, only to then have her leave by kissing her goodnight. Soon he came inside her, filling her up with hopes of commitment. “Here,” he offers her his hand as his cock leaves her, she’s now cold and empty once more. She grabbed his hand, guiding her through the empty room and into the bathroom. They showered together; she cleaned his hair the way he liked while he cleaned her body the way she liked. They weren't strangers, even before the arrangement. Sirius is like a brother to James, but he is the universe to Y/n. He held himself as the sun, yet she was a mere human who could only stare at him through rose-tinted glasses. Even now as he caresses the marks he left on her neck, he’s miles away. Soon they get dry,  kiss goodbye, and he says calmly, “No attachments, baby,” then closes the door. She goes down the stairs, past the portrait, hiding from Filch, and then going to her bed. Sound asleep, wearing his shirt and her favorite bottoms, her best bra under his bed with the rest. It’s casual. It always is. 

————————

“What’s between you and Sirius? I’ve heard rumors, you know?” Lucius said, a mouthful of eggs nearing his lips. His eyes carried a hint of worry as he ate, never once looking away from the girl.

“Nothing, he’s my brother’s friend. What more could it possibly be?” truthfully, her eyes glistened at the thought. She remembered the night before and knew it was bound to repeat again. She was looking right at the black-haired man, but he sat with his back to her, not even sparing a glance. Her brother waved and smiled as always, unbeknownst to the betrayal, yet his best friend didn’t even look back. He just continued to talk and laugh. 

“Well, someone said they saw you leaving his dorm…”

“You can’t  trust Gryffindors, Lucius, you know better.”

The blond shrugs and continues eating. Occasionally he glances between Sirius and Y/n, noticing her pupils fill with love contrary to the frown her mouth holds. “You Potters and your words.” he sighs defeatedly. 

The friends moved along, talking about classes, family, their plans for summer, etc. Even after the bell rang, the two moved like a pair of conjoined twins. For once she didn’t notice the holes burning into her friend’s skull by the eyes of a certain member of the Black family. 

James swung his hand around the other’s shoulder, “What’re you looking at, mate?”

“Just Slytherins, nothing special.”

“Better not be talking bout my sis.”

“I’d never.”

“Good. I’d have hexed you. Just an older brother thing, you understand.”

  Yet Sirius didn’t understand, at least not when it came to the aching feeling in his chest when he saw those two. They’d been like this since first year, it’s been bothering him since first year. He knew they were friends, and both confirmed it, yet he couldn’t help but feel cheated on. “Yeah, yeah. We’re still on for the Ravenclaw party right?” Sirius looked up at James, quirking his head to the side.

“Of course! Evans is gonna be there, I hope. At least that’s what Y/n/n says, she told me to wear something casual.”

Casual. Of course.

[re-colligere]

Unfortunately, yes, I'm here to deliver yet another oc for this thing. Good lird! Design may still change but I like this general idea. I started with the personification of Logic / Reasoning, though I kinda like the idea that she goes by a different name altogether.

I had a lot of starting concepts and I was indecisive on their stature (tall vs. small). I'm leaning towards the smaller body shape 'cause I think it's fun that this important figure would have a hard time making its presence known.

Forgot to mention that the Architect has a base somewhere in the mindscape (the think tank??) where they could properly assess the information their human has collected for the day, as well as monitor the other parts of the mindscape. They prefer order but they understand that chaos is sometimes the easiest way to arrive at a beautiful conclusion. I don't know what that means.

Sorry that these are all so wordy LOL I have a lot of stuff for archie over here. I've transcribed the text on the pictures beneath the cut.

lead designer of the mindscape, figures out the most compatible infrastructure based on the human's personality/style of thinking

though sometimes their designs influence the human as well. looping feedback

mainly runs around on the continent outside HQ

(tries) to lead the other Mind Workers based on her plans

he's also concerned with how the human understands the world around them

…and it tries to keep the human's thoughts tethered to reality…

…and she tries to keep up with the maintenance of the mind…

…AND xe tries to make sure those nincompoops over at HQ don't get carried away with their feelings when it comes to understanding the world.

extremely busy guy. but they like the hustle and bustle. keeps the mind alert.

generally neutral towards the emotions, but the different perspectives drive Archie up the wall.

still, he understands their purpose…he just wishes they would listen to his voice now and then.

thinks a little too highly of herself

his work gets snubbed constantly though. someone's gotta keep up his morale and it might as well be himself

loves to watch brain storms in their downtime (and picks off the stupidest ideas. for safety)

it travels fast. hard to tell how it pulls that off

[Design Notes]

white glasses to see clearly & without bias (…is what she says)

shades of grey

largely angular, with the curves mostly being on the head

shortstack

patterns are drawn by them (usually plans, flowcharts, math equations, grocery list, etc)

freckles have a specific, unchanging arrangement: right cheek - forms an upright triangle, left cheek - forms a downward triangle

[jpitha]

Color Me Surprised.

Human vision is hacks upon hacks upon hacks. Forget about how our brains just make wild guesses about things we see, or how there are whole parts of your vision that your brain can't see and just does "content aware fill" on it, or how your peripheral vision isn't nearly as good as you think it is.

Our brains just make up colors because we don't like to see two colors next to each other.

Magenta doesn't exist.

****

“Ugh, what is going on?” The Gren moved to cover their eyes as they staggered back, their reverse articulated legs unsteady.

“What? What is it? What’s wrong Peni’tam?” Jalisa stared at her friend as they moved back, their 2 pairs of eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“That… that thing. It hurts to look at!“ Peni’tam finall turned away and with their back to it, opened their eyes. They looked down at Jalisa. “It doesn’t hurt for you to look at? Is it some kind of human weapon?”

Jalisa peered around Pani’tam. Behind her, on the landing platform was a starship. It was small as starships go, likely only holding 4 or 5 people. With a Flip drive, you didn’t really need a large spacecraft for anything. Most destinations were no more than two or three days away, but humans tended to build large anyway. No reason not to when space is nearly limitless. Interdiction ship probably. Military, or at least formerly military.

It was small and sleek, with very few protrusions. Currently sitting on spindly landing legs, it almost looked like an insect.

It was also bright magenta.

“It’s just a ship Peni’tam. The color is a little unusual, but humans tend to paint their ships wild colors anyway. It’s got a bit of a dazzle camo pattern, made up in two or three shades of magenta.”

“Magenta? What’s that?” Now that Peni’tam wasn’t facing the ship they were much more steady on their feet.

“It’s just a color. Like, a really bright pinky purple?” Jalisa looked down at her pad. “Here, let me see if it’s emitting something.” She touched a few points and ran a scan. “Pani’tam, it’s cold. Even the reactor is off. It must be here for a refit.”

Pani’tam turned again and immediately winced. “Ow! No, something is up. That ship hurts to look at. I don’t mean like figuratively, I mean, literally it is painful. It is doing something.”

“Well, let’s step away from it then. We can find another way to the cafe. I just wanted to pass by the pads because I like to look at the ships.” Jalisa said, wistfully.

They went to the cafe by circling around the station past the gymnasium. Inside, Jalisa saw people running and lifting weights that seemed almost comically tiny until she looked over at the sign over the entrance.

OPERATING AT THREE GEE TODAY. EXERCISE CAUTIOUSLY.

She rolled her eyes. Of course the gym nuts would find a way to use the gravity generators to make the workouts more intense.

At the cafe, Jalisa and Peni’tam got their drinks and sat down at a wide, long table. “I just can’t believe that color doesn’t hurt you.” Pani’tam took a sip of their tea. “Your vision must be completely different than ours.”

Another human at the table heard their conversation and turned. “Oh, you saw the Variegated Elegy?”

“The little magenta ship? Yeah, Peni’tam here-“ Jalisa gestured at her friend “-got a massive headache when she tried to look at it.”

The human nodded. “I’m not surprised. It’s an old interdiction ship, originally designed to strike deep into Gren territory during the war. Now that the war is over, it’s here to be refitted into a yacht, and probably repainted too.”

“Oh really? That’s too bad. The magenta dazzle camo is so interesting.” Jalisa sipped her coffee and looked at the human. She was tall, with close cropped hair on one side, and the rest was swept up almost into a dark asymmetric pompadour. She was wearing a tailored uniform without any indicators of rank and just two silver pips on her left breast. She had a scar along her right cheek as well. She looked very rakish, and Jalisa had to look away quickly.

The human laughed. “It’s pretty neat isn’t it? Unfortunately, the Confederation races can’t process magenta. For some it just looks like a very odd blue, others see a very odd red. A few races like the Gren with very accurate color reproduction get headaches and it causes them pain. The color was chosen on purpose for that particular ship.”

“A color… hurts? Also I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

The woman winks. “I didn’t throw it. You can call me Tyler.”

Jalisa blushes just a bit. “Hi Tyler, I’m Jalisa.”

Tyler nods. “Works over in HVAC with Pam and Lan’urian? Nice to meetcha.”

How did she know that? Tyler continues. “Anyway. Yeah, for the Gren, when they see magenta they try and process it, but since the wavelength for blue will never be with the wavelength for red, the color can’t really exist.”

“But we see it?” Her coffee forgotten, Jalisa leans forward.

Tyler laughs. “That’s because our eyes are hacks upon hacks upon hacks. Half the things we ‘see’ aren’t real. Our brains just invent magenta when we put red and blue next to each other. We learned early in the war about Gren vision processing and were able to use it to our advantage. Now that the war’s over, we’re retiring the pain job. Gotta be good members of the Confederation after all.” Tyler rips off a sharp - though sarcastic - salute.

“So, the color of the ship itself is a weapon?” Peni’tam said, with a note of amazement in their voice.

“Yup! Pretty neat right? A weapon with no power and no ammunition and still causes nearly incapacitating pain if a Gren doesn’t look away.”

Jalisa looks at Tyler more closely. She seems so effortlessly confident. “How do you know so much about this, Tyler?”

Tyler shrugs. “Oh, it’s my ship. In the war I was an Intelligence Collection Agent and I ran the Variegated with a small tight crew.”

Jalisa nearly chokes on her tea. “You’re a spy?”

“Was a spy. War’s over, so we don’t need spy’s anymore, right?” Tyler winked again. Jalisa wasn’t sure if Peni’tam caught the gesture or knew what it meant. A wink was very situational and could mean lots of things. Tyler tossed back the rest of her coffee. “Anyway, I’m here for a few more weeks while the refit takes place.” She stands and looks down at Jalisa. “I’m free tonight. Call me, we’ll get dinner.” And without another word, she turns and walks out of the cafe.

After she left, Peni’tam stares at Jalisa. “You aren’t going to go to dinner with her are you?”

“And why not, Peni’tam?”

“She’s a spy! She spied on us during the war!” Peni’tam’s grey fur ripples and her mouthparts clack with stress.

“The war is over Peni’tam. Everyone on both sides fought it. I’m sure you had plenty of your own spies.”

Peni’tam shakes their head. The fur whooshes back and forth while they do it. “She’s so… cocky and self-assured. She practically made your date invitation a command.”

Jalisa blushed again. “I know. It was pretty cool.”

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest. 

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it. 

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to. 

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief. 

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.” 

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.” 

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day. 

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back. 

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears. 

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good. 

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened? 

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration. 

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.