#probably against The Grand Serpent

[creature-wizard]

LOL, you shitheads again? You must really love getting your asses kicked if you're coming to me, of all people.

For anybody unaware, the Satanists behind the website mentioned in this ask are a bunch of openly antisemitic conspiracy theorists appropriating Eastern traditions, and they've been trying to advertise themselves and increase their SEO by sending asks like these. Each ask is tailored to appeal to whatever they think your beliefs might be, but they all follow a similar template that goes something like:

What do you think of [URL redacted]? They claim to follow [insert gods here], they [something about supporting abortion], and they're the largest [insert group here] group in the world."

The spirituality promoted on this website is rooted in deeply antisemitic conspiracy theories and pseudohistory. If I addressed every single claim they made, I'd be here all day, so I'm going to stick to a few examples:

They claim that Satanism isn't a reaction to Christianity, but is in fact older than Christianity. This is straight-up pseudohistorical bullshit.

They claim that Jews have perpetrated a grand conspiracy to conceal true spiritual knowledge from the masses. They outright cite The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a Czarist hoax created to justify violence against Russian Jews in the late 19th century. They claim that Christianity is a Jewish tool of world domination and mind control.

They claim that "Jewish ritual murder" is a thing. This is blood libel, an old conspiracy theory used to demonize Jews.

They claim that Jesus was a fictional creation made out of tropes "stolen" from various pagan gods. There is no actual evidence for this; it's another conspiracy theory. For a scholarly look at what most probably happened, I recommend How Jesus Became God: The Exaltation of a Jewish Preacher from Galilee by Bart D. Erhman. Or if you can't get your hands on the books, just look into Dr. Ehrman's videos/lectures on the topic on YouTube.

They push the extremely racist ancient aliens bullshit, claiming that the pagan gods were actually aliens.

They claim that the serpent actually represents human DNA, life force, and kundalini. This is a conspiracy theory that disregards the diversity of lore about serpents in various belief systems and traditions around the world, and culturally appropriates from Eastern traditions.

Their idea of what constitutes genuine Satanic practices is basically New Agers' bastardized versions of Eastern concepts and practices.

They claim that the "Tree of Life" is actually a stolen pagan symbol that maps the human soul. Again, an unsubstantiated conspiracy theory that disregards the actual significance of trees within the various traditions that involve them.

They claim that the Pentateuch was ripped off from the five suits of the tarot, and that tarot has ancient origins with alchemical significance. Tarot was actually invented in the 15th century for playing games. Mystical symbolism was applied by occultists in the 18th century.

The creators of the site apparently believe that the Simon Necronomicon is a genuine translation of older documents. It's not. The Necronomicon was a literary device created by HP Lovecraft; every text purporting to be a translation of the Necronomicon is a modern creation.

If you get an anon message like this in your inbox, do not post it. These people want you to share their URL to get more publicity and spread their antisemitic conspirituality. Don't give them what they want.

[actually-azi]

GOD'S INEFFABLE GAME

I've seen this headcanon/theory here and there and I love it, so I felt the need to lay it all out. Hold on tight, yall.

Everyone knows how perfect Aziraphale and Crowley are for each other. The Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden, the sword and the snake - they've been drawn together since before the beginning.

The way that these two compliment each other seems almost perfect. They each have what the other one lacks; they challenge and make each other better. It seems a bit... ineffable.

But then, it happens again? (if it happens again, it'll seem like an institutional problem!) Seemingly against all odds, the Grand Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel fall in love. Beelzebub and Gabriel, probably the most unlikely pair, end up fitting together so perfectly that they become each other's heaven and hell.

And here's the part where I'm reaching a bit more since I'm leaving what we know to be canon, so take it or leave it. But have you seen the way that Dagon, Lord of the Files, looks at the Archangel Michael? Could it be that they're also ineffably connected? Honestly, I dare you to tell me that they don't seem... smitten.

Next up, we have precious Muriel, 37th Order Scrivener, and "Disposable Demon" Eric. Equally low-ranking but lovable entities whose personalities match so well? Sure, sure, they never even speak or meet (yet!?) so maybe I'm delusional, but I have a strong feeling that these two will end up together. Personally I think they'll be something like a QPR, but who knows. They're just such perfect mirrors of each other, and as we all know, things are always on purpose when it comes to our lord and savior Neil Gaiman.

Even though angels and demons are supposed to be "hereditary enemies", it seems like they all end up liking each other just a little too much to be a matter of chance. We know that there are 10 million angels and 10 million demons... what are the chances that that was an accident? A perfectly even split, by coincidence? Nah. We know that God plays an ineffable game with the universe, and it seems like She might have been in the mood for a romantic comedy. Creating ten million sets of perfectly matched beings, and then putting them on opposite sides, seems like just a thing that God would do for Her own amusement. She's probably sitting back and laughing to Herself, seeing how long it takes Her creations to find their way back to each other.

[bloodblotz]

Task From Heaven

Hazbin Hotel x Angel!Reader

Post Hazbin Hotel Season 1

The reader is an angel from heaven tasked by the Heavenly Courtroom to aid the Hazbin Hotel and its goal on rehabilitating Sinners.

Part 1

The order given was simple in nature but couldn’t be any less difficult: aid Princess Charlie Morningstar in her quest to redeem Sinners so they may see the golden gates of Heaven.

Definitely simple of a goal but complicated in nature. There was a reason it had never been accomplished or attempted before, for the sheer controversy of trying to redeem a person who had already made their choices were hard to sway.

Sir Pentious had given Heaven much to think about and as such the buzz that a Sinner had somehow become a Winner was unheard of.

For God to have such forgiveness for a sinful man, who were angels not to follow in their Father? And as such, you were sent down to the Hazbin Hotel to aid the Princess in her endeavours to save Sinners from their fiery fates.

The air in Hell was heavy with smoke and brimstone, making your nose wrinkle in the slightest. Back in Heaven the air was sleek and clear, as fresh as a meadow far from any sort of city. It was just one of the many things that you would have to get used to.

The hotel came to view, a grand thing it was, with its name in tall and bright letters that flashed with pride.

Landing gracefully onto the pavement, you quietly tucked your wings away as to not be seen by the average Sinner. Although your halo remained stubbornly atop your head.

Entering the hotel, it was just as large as it was on the outside. The ceilings were tall enough as to not induce claustrophobia.

“Hello! Welcome to the—” a young woman’s cheerful voice welcomed you as you make your way to the foyer. It stopped abruptly as you make your way closer to the stairs. Dressed in a bright red suit with long blonde hair tied in a long braid was the Princess of Hell: Charlie Morningstar. She stood shocked at the sight of you— well, more so your halo than just the appearance of you.

You give a cordial smile as you spread out your wings in a way that you know was probably sinful pride in your appearance. Your wings stretched to showcase pure plumes of white, stark against the harsh reds of Hell.

“Greetings to the Princess of Hell,” you start, voice soft as to adhere to image of angelic. “I am Y/N, have no fear as I have come to aid Sinners with redemption on behalf of Heaven.”

The Princess guffaws for a long second, a thousand emotions that were too quick to read flickering across her face. Her companions were not so hard to read as wariness spread across their faces. One in particular, a young woman with long hair and an interesting ‘x’ atop one of her eyes. Similar to an exorcist, you idly note.

The long haired woman thrust a spear in your face, an angelic spear you notice. Her mouth is twisted into a snarl as she holds an unwavering spear to your throat.

“What business does Heaven want now? Extermination is over.”

You smile, bringing a finger to the point and pushing it down slightly. “Have no fear, I have no intention in hurting any Sinner of the sort.” The woman’s face is stone, making it clear that she has yet to believe you. “I was sent by Heaven to aid in redeeming Sinners.”

The woman scoffs but is quickly calmed by a gentle hand to her shoulder. The Princess looks at you. Her face is not unkind but isn’t entirely friendly. Her face swims with wariness.

“I thought Heaven didn’t believe in the redemption of Sinners.” Despite her wariness, her eyes shines with hope. “What changed?”

Your disbelief makes it way forward. Don’t they know? They had to know that one of their very own residents made it to Heaven, and yet their wary faces tells you otherwise.

“One of your own occupants have been redeemed.” You start, projecting an image of the serpent into her palm. His heavenly image is revealed to the Princess whose eyes shine with emotion. “This changes everything, don’t you think? Because of this, Heaven is willing to help in your crusade.”

Something in your heart twists at the unshed tears in the Princess’ eyes.

You let the Princess take the image of Sir Pentious, watching as she cradles it like was something precious. The rest of her companions stare down at the ball with a range of disbelief and relief.

You were ready to meet an incarnation of evil, a product of Hell and Lucifer. In the end, Hell’s daughter is nothing but a kind girl.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Parts:

1 2 3

[houseboywife]

The primordial serpents of Dark Souls: there is something under the surface

Kingseeker Frampt and Darkstalker Kaathe are two characters that I would define as quite nebulous. Only appearing in person in Dark Souls 1, their presence nonetheless is felt even in future installments. But what exactly is their deal? It's a rather difficult question to answer, for a simple reason: they can't be trusted. At all. This post isn't gonna be a sort of unified theory on who the serpents exactly are: however I'll try to compile most of the information we know and can infer about them and why there's way, way more to them than what meets the eye. Waaaaay more. Yeah this is gonna be a long post. VERY long. But, in my humble opinion, quite thought provoking. Disclaimer: probably not all of the following was intended by the writers. But you know, death of the author and all. I think it's fun to speculate and create meaning even where there might be move.

That said, let's start with the Serpent Species.

Besides Frampt and Kaathe, the Dark Lord ending of Dark Souls 1 (which we'll get back to later) shows us a large number of Primordial Serpents, so we can assume that there's a whole species of them. Maybe. It's never brought up again. Nonetheless, there are several things we can infer about the Serpents in general, or World Snakes as they're known in japanese.

First off, presumably, they're ancient. Duh. How ancient? From the age before the First Flame, possibly. In Dark Souls 3, the description for the Covetous Silver Serpent Ring reads as follows:

A silver ring depicting a snake that could have been, but never was, a dragon.

Interesting. So snakes (or at least some of them) are some sort of imperfect, malformed dragons. Additionally, Dark Souls 3 shows some statues depicting a more humanoid version of the Serpents, of which we can ordinarily only see their heads. Considering their depictions are very different to each other, I'm assuming it's just an artistic interpretation and the sculptors didn't actually know what they looked like. However, one should note the locations of these statues: the Grand Archive (probably connected to Seath's Duke's Archives) and the Ringed City ("gifted" by Gwyn to the Pygmy Lords).

Now, let us talk about Frampt.

That Kingseeker Frampt is lying to you isn't exactly a groundbreaking fact. After all, this close confidant of Gwyn is in cahoots with him regarding the prophecy of a Chosen Undead, a made up folk story to get some poor undead bastard to throw themselves in the fire in order to kindle it once needed. This is all bullshit obviously, there's no such thing as the prophecy and the kindling of the fire is an unnatural sin performed by Gwyn. This means that Frampt is manipulating you with incomplete information in order to get you to link the Flame. One would assume that this would be his ultimate goal.

Or is it?

There are several odd things about Frampt.

For starters, as mentioned before, the Dark Lord Ending. In it, when you refuse to link the fire, Kaathe (we'll talk about him later) makes a point to say that both he and Frampt will now serve you. Why would Frampt do that? You could speculate that he's bound by some sort of oath to the Dark Lord, perhaps because of his nature as a quasi-dragon born in the dark. This could maybe explain the statue of him found in the Ringed City. But by this point, everyone that could be considered his "superior" is dead, and I'm not sure why he would have any obligations to serve you: if he feared being killed by the Dark Lord, well, he could just hide. Perhaps his oath is more fundamental, and he can't go against the Dark Lord because of the very nature of his being. Maybe he allied to Lord Gwyn to try and break this shackle? Perhaps. But I suspect, once again, that there's more to it.

Let's take a look at a very strange mechanic: feeding Frampt.

In Dark Souls 1, you can feed certain items to Frampt, and he'll pay you back with souls. Usually this is not really worth it, because he undervalues items a lot. However, here's the curious thing: for some items, he will only give you a meager 1 soul, while for others he will reward you with a bounty much higher than the value of the item. This is not a mistake, it's hardcoded in, so hey, it should have some significance. Let's look at these outliers.

Frampt will give you 1 soul for anything that has to do with either Seath the Scaleless or Smough; conversely, he will reward you handomely for anything that has to do with Gwyn (soul included), Gwyndolin (soul included), the Moonlight Butterfly, Dragons, Queelag and, funnily enough, women armor sets. So huh, let's unpack this.

It's the women's clothing, believe it or not, that provide some insight. Given that he pays you more for it, I'm assuming that he gives you more souls as a reward for bringing him that item. Either that or he's a misogynist, but I'm more leaning towards horny. And certainly the Soul of Gwyn, the one he pays you the most for, fits: your objective was to kill the crazed Gwyn, and his Soul proves that you've done it. You can't actually feed him it without going to ng+, but hey, it's a technical limitation

With Gwyndolin things start becoming a little bit strange. To have his Soul, you must have killed him. This is a problem for a few reasons: first off, it's his best friend's son. Why would he be happy about you killing him? Secondly, killing him means dispelling the Anor Londo illusion, meaning finding out that the Gods, and him, are lying to you. Now why would he be ok with you knowing that?

The Moonlight Butterfly is a bit strange, since it was created by Seath, but it seems to be connected in some way to Gwyndolin (the moon theming plus the same music). I don't think it's terribly relevant anyway.

Queelag, I have no clue about, epecially considering the fact that he gives no special reward for the Soul of the Witch of Izalith. It could either be because she's guarding the second bell of awakening or because she's hot. Probably cause she's hot.

Now, let's look at a strange thing. He gives nothing for Seath but a lot for the Dragons. Seath betrayed the Dragons, so this is relevant. But how? If he dislikes Seath, this would imply that he's on the dragon's side. But this cannot be, since the dragons and Gwyn are enemies. Maybe he just likes to consume dragon items in an attempt to become a full fledged dragon: this would also be strange considering his allegiance. Maybe he just enjoys eating dragon items but dislikes the taste of Seath (who is physiologically pretty different from other dragons). This, however, would imply that he also enjoyed eating Gwyn and Gwyndolin. Which, frankly, I find the most likely possibility, with interesting implications.

As for Smough, let's be honest, he probably tastes like shit.

Let's move on to Kaathe.

Darkstalker Kaathe seems to be, at the same time, more and less trustworthy than Frampt. More trustworty because he's the one to tell you about the lies of Gwyn, and the truth about the Dark Soul. And he's not lying to you about that. At the same time, he convinced the Lords of New Londo do embrace the Darkness, as well as the people of Oolacile to dig up the corpse of a Pygmy which didn't end very well.

Not much else is known about him: a somewhat obscure fact is that he considers Seath the Scaleless to be a traitor: so, it seems, he's aligned with the dragons despite not being one. What this says about the other Serpent is hard to tell.

However, one last thing is known about him. He wants to let the Flame die, and make the world turn back to an Age of Dark.

Or does he?

The Sable Church, helmed by Yuria of Londor, is an organization devoted to a single goal: usurp the Flame and bring forth an age not of Light or Dark, but of Hollows. This is different from an Age of Dark in several ways. First off, the Flame persists, but is claimed by an individual who is both Unkindled (that is someone who attempted to link the Flame but failed) and Hollow. In an Age of Dark, with the Flame gone, it is unclear what would happen: it is called many times "the age of humanity", but no one actually knows what humanity's original, primordial form is: for all we know, it could just be an existence spent in a formless void as wandering spirits.

At the same time, nothing says that it couldn't be an utopia: but the point is that you can't know, there is an impassable veil that hides its true nature until it happens. At some point some embers will reappear from the Dark again, and bring forth a new age of Fire. But will it be a good one? Who knows. In comparison usurping the Flame is much more straightforward: similar to the current Age of Fire, except it's Hollows that hold power and not Gods. It is not clear how sentient would Hollows be in such an age, considering their usual zombie-like behavior, but since hollowing is tied to Gwyn linking humanity to the Flame we can presume that something would change, otherwise it would be quite a shitty age and idk why they would pursue it.

There's another thing about the Sable Church. From item descriptions and dialogue it is evident that they worship none other than Darkstalker Kaathe, who appears to have perished since the first game (there's a theory I like about it but this post is already long enough).

Now hold on, hold on. Doesn't Kaathe want to bring forth an Age of Dark? Where did Frampt go in all of this? What is going on?

Let's take a step back. If Kaathe wasn't lying to the Sable Church (and I don't believe he is) then he was lying to you in the first game. Not an unlikely prospect, since Frampt was doing the same thing. But why try and get you to be the Dark Lord if what he was looking for was a Lord of Hollows?

First off let's establish something. No matter which ending you pick in Dark Souls 1, I don't believe that an Age of Dark ever happens between that game and 3. This is because there seems to be a linear continuity (somehwat) between the eras the game is set in, which wouldn't be possible if, well, the cycle underwent a big reset. So even if you become Dark Lord, something happens to stop a true Age of Dark from happening.

With that out of the way, here's what I think. When is the only time that a Lord of Hollows can arise? Only when the world is in shambles due to the strain of the artificial cycle taken to its extreme. How do you get to that point? By continously linking the Flame and making it fight the Abyss over and over, purposefully feeding the feud between Light and Dark that should have already ended long ago, slowly weakening the Flame until it is just barely able to hold on and the entire world has been burned to ashes. At that point the Lords of Cinders arise from their graves to link it again, and again and again, until even them refuse to do it. At this point, the Unkindled will rise: after an endless, purposeful cycle of stirring both the Flame and the Abyss.

Flame and Abyss. Frampt and Kaathe.

I want to show something, now. An interesting little design on an otherwise unremarkable shield. The caduceus round shield.

Two serpents heads, joined at the body. Now, is there any reason to presume that this shield is a true depiction of the nature of Frampt and Kaathe, some sort of bicephalous Ourobouros? Well, we don't know. It would certainly make some amount of sense, however. What I think is that, no matter how literally true this is, it shows at least metaphorically the relationship of the two Serpents. They're working together.

You're not the only undead that they contact, after all. Plenty more people, like you, in your world and parallel ones, are spurred by Frampt to link the Flame and by Kaathe to let it die. This is why neither of them particularly cares about you finding out the truth, or joining the other. You're just a disposable pawn in the grand scheme. When a Dark Lord arise, they pretend to worship them, only to betray them at the last second, getting someone else to kindle the Flame and keep the cycle going. Over, and over again. Till the Unkindled finally rise.

There are, of course, some open questions. Why do they want an age of Hollows to come to pass? Perhaps it is linked to their complicated relationship with dragons: after all, they're only incomplete dragons, and they would hardly have a place in an Age of Dark. Perhaps it has something to do with a promise made to the first Pygmies. Or then again, perhaps to defend against them. And then, what about the other Serpents? Are they working with them? Are they from other worlds? Are they all joined in some sort of giant eldrich hydra, its true body hidden from sight?

It is all very complicated, frankly. We probably will never know the true motives of the Serpents, as well as their nature: however, what I hope this analysis has made clear is that there is much, much more under the surface than what it seems like. Like their body. That's literally under the surface.

[theresattrpgforthat]

THEME: The Locked Tomb

I’m in love with The Locked Tomb Series by Tamsyn Muir, and I know I’m not the only one! For that I am extremely grateful, because there’s quite a few ttrpg designers who also love The Locked Tomb, and have designed games meant to evoke the themes or setting of the novels. Here’s a few of my favourites!

The Serpent and the Spider, by Junk Food Games.

The Serpent and The Spider is a tiny ttrpg for 2 players. One player takes the role of The Serpent, a charismatic sword-wielder. The other player takes the role of The Spider, a highly intelligent necromancer.

Your souls are bonded together. You will fight against corrupt corporations and explore your relationship.

Note that this game has references to violence, death, combat, and implied self-harm. To play the game, you need something to write with, two 4-sided dice, and two 8-sided dice.

I’ve talked about this game before as a duet game. This is probably the best game for exploring the relationship between a necromancer and their cavalier, because it’s designed to be played just between two people. It includes 9 session prompts (again, a tribute to the Nine Houses), and presents you with a setting that is inspired by The Locked Tomb while still allowing you as a pair to fill in details that will make the game work for you.

Thirsty Space Necromancers, by Understory Games.

Thirsty Space Necromancers is a Thirsty Sword Lesbians supplement based on The Locked Tomb books by Tamsyn Muir. It's Gideon the Ninth as a Powered by the Apocalypse RPG.

You play as Necromancers and Cavaliers in a space-faring culture. Paired and trained to fight together, you will solve mysteries and fight ghosts, and probably other necromancers, as you explore new planets. 

This is a game that requires another game to run, but considering the tagline of Gideon the Ninth as “Lesbian Necromancers in Space”, Thirsty Sword Lesbians sounds like another great match for this kind of game. TSL focuses on love and relationships, and is also great for telling grand, epic stories. I’m interested in the additional rules to add the Dead to your game, as well as how the game plays when each player has a counterpart that they’re responsible for and/or devoted to, especially since multiple players can choose The Cavalier, while each Necromancer playbook is separate.

(Understory Games also has a collection of Locked Tomb fan rpgs, where I got most of my recommendations from!)

Heart of the Emperor, by deathmeetauthor.

Heart of the Emperor is a hack of Monsterhearts 2, centred in Tamsyn Muir's The Locked Tomb series. Rather than playing a cohort of teenagers who are secretly monsters, you may be playing a soldier of the Cohort, a teenager, or openly be a monster—perhaps even all three!

The characters of Gideon the Ninth etc. are lonely, brokenhearted, and struggle to communicate their needs and feelings, all of which are perfect for a Monsterhearts game. As with many Powered by the Apocalypse games, the focus is on how the characters relate to each-other, whether that means getting into fights, horribly misinterpreting what your crush/rival says, or uncovering deliciously horrifying secrets that will fundamentally change how you see the world. The scope of this game will be more personal than Thirsty Sword Lesbians - the future of the world isn't quite as important as your future with the the people around you.

The Empire Undying, by Glaive Guisarme Games.

You climb aboard the shuttle which is intended to convey you off this dingy planet. Embedded in the metal walls of the shuttle are bones, sun-bleached and carved with innumerable runes of protection. The only seats in the shuttle seem comfortable enough, although they have the familiar texture of human-flesh leather, tattooed over and over in a crabbed, spiky hand.

It fucking sucks. Just an abysmal experience, and the chairs make your ass hurt after like ten minutes. But if you’re going to be a necromancer there’s a whole, like, aesthetic to deal with. 

Hope you like skulls, fucker.

There are two sorts of people that matter in the decrepit star empire: the necromancers who create the undead abominations upon whose skeletal backs civilization rests, and the knights whose sword duty is to defend the necromancers from undead abominations which aren't behaving right now. 

In this game, you will play a group of necromancers and knights, stuck in some corner of the vast empire, attempting to solve a mystery that is, in turn, attempting to kill you all. The bad kind of "kill," the sort you don't bounce back from. Explore ancient sites and forgotten ruins, unravel conspiracies which have endured for millennia, and make out with one another, because you are hot and hurt and surrounded by bones so you have to get that tension out somehow. 

Tone-wise, this game slaps. Mechanically, I like that it’s not too complex (it borrows from Lasers and Feelings) while still leaning into the number 9, which is heavily significant in The Locked Tomb. It has players explore relationships, while not necessarily expecting them to pair up - instead, you have to decide how another person’s character has power over you, which also feel so much like The Locked Tomb (think about Dulcinea’s relationship to Gideon, or the relationship between the Fifth House and the Fourth House). There’s so much to this game and it’s not even that big! If you want something that feels like it was written by Gideon herself, I’d definitely recommend checking this out.

In Extremis, by Keganexe.

In Extremis is a tabletop roleplaying game designed for 2-6 players, about fighting back the man using necromancy, that uses the LUMEN system by Spencer Campbell. Inspired by The Locked Tomb trilogy, players take on the role of exceptionally powerful witches who use their mastery of life, death, and the human condition to keep them and their own safe from other planetary invaders who want to steal their land.

As a Necromancer, you are one of a handful of hideously powerful death witches that protect the planet Hecate, the final holdout for The Coven, from the ever encroaching war of the Corvus Dominion. 

In Extremis differs greatly from some of the games on this list because it focuses on combat, rather than on relationships. The game is inspired by the Locked Tomb, but doesn’t seek to replicate it. All of the players are necromancers, and all of the players are built for combat. You will go up against a terrible, powerful foe, while you yourselves are small in number, although extremely powerful. I appreciate the attempt to make this legally distinct from The Locked Tomb - there’s enough here to absolutely appeal to fans of the series, but the creator has given themselves enough license to focus on the themes of this series that appeals to theme - particularly the theme of kicking ass.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Tomb Candles, by deecity. (A hack of Ten Candles)

[muffinlance]

Shaw reeeeally want to eat the earth kings bear. It’s so exotic and he’s never tried one before. Just a nibble, maybe a haunch, then he’ll know if it tastes like orca-bear or weasel-bear.

(Continued from parts one and two.)

Kuei is, in the understated words of one of his earliest tutors, feeling mildly out of his geological stratum. 

There was a war. There was a war for his entire life, for his father’s and his grandfather’s. He is only learning of it now, because it is over, and his signature is required on the official documents. 

(At least they didn’t just take his royal seal and stamp it themselves.)

The young king has many questions. Mostly about his own court, and which of his advisors are truly trustworthy.

(And which would find for him a less pleasant oubliette, if he tried to rattle his palace’s bars.)

“The Fire Lord will enter through the eastern doors,” an etiquette tutor he’s never seen before instructs him. “You will stand for him, but not bow. His dragons have been instructed to enter behind him, but in practice, will do as they please. Or as he has ordered them. They are an intimidation tactic; do not acknowledge them. The terms have already been agreed upon. Place your stamp where indicated. If he inclines his head, you may return the gesture…”

It would be a significant amount of information to remember, had it not sifted down to “your presence was not required before, and is only ceremonial now.”

Kuei stands when the Fire Lord enters. His fellow monarch is young, but so is Kuei. The boy comes flanked with his own cadre of old men. Perhaps this is just what it’s like, being a king. 

And then the dragons enter, which rather puts into perspective why this meeting is occuring in the grand ballroom, rather than a more usual diplomatic location. They are… very impressive specimens. The old men behind Kuei stiffen at the sight of them. The ones near the Fire Lord have to actively dodge, with a rumpling of robes and dignity alike, as the great serpents claim their place at the boy’s sides. 

And then they keep coming forward, coils of them thick around as particularly rotund badgermoles, and Kuei’s advisors follow the example set by their peers. Which is to say: Kuei is suddenly rather alone at the table, with two great heads crossing paths behind him. They pause like that, for a moment, before moving on. There is enough of them to wrap back around to their Fire Lord’s side, even as they remain looped behind Kuei. 

Yes. Yes, he could see why this would be an effective intimidation tactic.

The Fire Lord looks at the chair he’s been provided. Then down the length of the great table, to where Kuei would sit. There would have been servants to carry the papers between them, but… well. They are probably not going to risk scaling the dragon’s sides. The Fire Lord huffs, and walks to the chair to the left of Kuei’s, before setting down a pile of scrolls.

They let him carry important documents himself. That must be nice. 

“Have you had time to read the final draft?” the Fire Lord asks, his chair scraping against stone as he pulls it out. He sits, and looks to Kuei expectantly.

Do not speak to him, says the voice of the tutor in Kuei’s memory. He is the violent offspring of an upstart island; you are the rightful inheritor of a continent. You bow to him on paper only.

“I… have not,” Kuei admits, and takes his own seat. 

“Neither have I,” says the boy. “We should probably make sure the copies match, too. My advisors kept telling me not to worry about it, which is probably a reason to worry about it.”

So they unroll two copies of the finest calligraphy, and push their chairs close, and get down to reading. It is not an exaggeration to say that Kuei has spent his whole life practicing for this.

“This map cannot be accurate,” Kuei says.

“It… looks okay to me?”

“This is nearly two-thirds of our western fishing ports, nevermind the river transport routes, whose ‘tax rates and availability to outside use shall be at the discretion of the Fire Lord’?”

“That’s where my people live.”

“Then where did my people go?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. Who is actually quite significantly younger than Kuei.

“...Did your advisors hand you papers to sign, too?”

“They said you’d already agreed.”

Kuei’s own advisors had implied they’d all be eaten by dragons should he refuse to sign, so. That was certainly a form of agreement. 

One of the Fire Lord’s very intimidating serpents has laid its great head down across most of their table, and appears to have fallen asleep. The other is… scenting the air? Well. That's mildly alarming. It coils its neck back, to the limit the high ceiling allows, and stares down at something outside its coils. 

Which is the point Kuei hears the whuffing of his bear cub. Which his advisors had very firmly told him could not be at this meeting, so little Bosco had been left in a garden with servants for attendants, but so many people are as afraid of a simple bear cub as they are of these great beasts of dragons, so it was no surprise he’d escaped to find the one person who really cared—

“Spit it out!” shouts the Fire Lord. “Spit it out!”

Kuei is not entirely certain how he ends up with his arms inside a dragon’s maw, his formal hairpiece being dripped upon by hot saliva fresh from a fang. But at least he's not the only monarch to be in such a state. 

The dragon’s great size is, in retrospect, a blessing: a little morsel like Bosco had not required chewing. The bear shakes in his arms, but Kuei’s combing through wet fur had not turned up a scratch upon him. 

“That is,” says the Fire Lord, looking up. And up further. Until he finds Bosco’s trembling muzzle, pressed against the top of Kuei’s head, “a really big… bear-otter?”

“He’s just a bear,” sniffles Kuei, hugging his poor baby back, if not quite so heartily as Bosco is hugging him. “A little cub. How could your dragon do such a thing?”

“Uh,” says the Fire Lord. “Shaw… apologizes?”

The dragon does not look at all apologetic. It's nuzzling the Fire Lord’s back, in a way Kuei himself recognizes from a hundred objects pulled from a baby bear’s inquisitive mouth. But father, can’t I eat it? Please?

“We,” Kuei says, his chin lifted haughtily, “are going to refresh ourselves in the royal chambers. You are welcome to the guest baths. And then we are going to sit down with a real map.” 

Not whatever fanciful one the Fire Lord’s advisors have concocted. 

“Fine,” the boy snaps back. 

When they meet again, an hour later, both are free of the sulfurous stench of dragon spit. And both have brought their own maps, of the Fire Nation’s current military occupation.

Kuei does not sign until his people have free access to their own resources again. If slightly less land than they began with. As he is not eaten by a dragon for his troubles, he sets his sights upon his advisors, next.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)

[nomorefstogive]

Our Dearest Sin (Cross Posted on Ao3)

Well, well, well, here we are again ladies, gentlemen, and all things that lie betwixt the two, another rabbit hole to dive headfirst into and another project that will likely not be fully completed till at last we are laid to rest under the cold earth in colder stone. 

This is a trip into the bleak and despair filled world of Path To Nowhere, a land of sinners, Corruptors and Maniacs. A land of Black rings and of shadow Cabals that threaten to upend all there is and all there will be in a vain pursuit of their own goals.

But dear friends, none of these are why we are here.

No, we are here my esteemed comrades to instead indulge in some comfort and fluff, with the occasional sprinkling of angst for extra seasoning here and there, along with the occasional dark and warped and horrifically brutal moments for that extra kick, in the form of some oneshots featuring the wonderful Sinners of this world and the lovely Female Chief of Minos, though we likewise have ideas for a ficlet series with a female OC or reader insert for some of the ideas we have, though that might end up benign adapted for the Chief instead as well, we will have to see. 

A bit of a tidbit before we begin, we are a shameless yuri fan and simp, so expect most of these to be about the ladies of PTN, though the men will likewise get their days in the sun…maybe…probably…okay there is somewhere between a 0.01% and 70.0% chance they will be covered in platonic or friendly manners okay?

As a final note, this fic was inspired by Ota1612’s own Path to Nowhere fic, alongside Prisoner_of_Sin's own fic as well, links will be below this paragraph.

Ota1612’s Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50373349/chapters/127266175 

Prisoner_of_Sin’s fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49781623/chapters/125660485 

That said, this project is something of an experiment in seeing if we can keep each entry below 10k words, that said we do not have much faith in that happening lol. 

With all of that said, let us begin our dive down this rabbit hole shall we?

Please note that you are all free to make use of any of the ideas you see in this story, so long as due credit is given and we are informed about them so that we can see what you have created as well. 

P.S. This Female Chief will be named Persephone, we were originally going to use our own Chief’s name, Lada, but we like the idea of using Persephone as a name for this female Chief a great deal more. 

Now, with all of that said and done, let us begin shall we?

Our first Chapter is devoted to the wonderful topkurorights, featuring Langley and the female Chief, so here we go.

Female Chief Pampering Langley After Work

It came to her slowly, like the slowly spreading venom of a serpent, that thing known as awareness that aimed to pull her forth from the tranquility that she had been savoring despite her valiant attempts to turn and flee from it and retreat into the merciful embrace of that quite dark stillness once more.

Yet in vain were each of her efforts,for no matter how grand and terrible the struggle she raged against it, and no matter how desperately she clawed at the darkness in pursuit of returning to its tranquil embrace, she found herself pulled forth from the safe cocoon of stillness and quiet and into a hazy fog of awakening. 

First to come to her was Touch, and with it there came to her the sensation of warmth gathered beneath her head, a pleasant sensation that seeped into her scalp and made her long to keep her eyes closed for longer still, and one that was made all the more intense by the feather light caress of soothing warmth and silken smoothness that carded across her brow before it dipped to cup her cheek, a softness that put shame to her sheets and blankets and made her long to burrow into its embrace.

Second to come to her awakening senses was Scent, something floral and soothing, a flower, whose name evaded her, and a faintest of hints of lavender, and below it further still was something not quite recognizable to her, something that combined with the floral aroma into something that resonated within her mind as the smell of something dearly beloved and cherished and made her shift to nuzzle closer to the source of it, allowing the soothing smell to ease her once more. 

Third to greet her awakening form was Sound, the distant echo of thunder resounding above the gentle pitter patter of rain, yet neither of these came to her as strongly as a low humming sound that caressed her ears as the gentlest whispers of wind, and yet still it echoed in her ears in a way that nearly drowned out the roar of the thunder and the crack of lightning. 

And at last, there came that moment when she was made to relinquish the soothing blanket of darkness and to wearily open her eyes, her vision foggy with sleep and yet present weariness that yet tried to bid her return to the embrace of the dreaming realm, though still, even with blurred vision, she could make out something that made her heart throb within her chest.

For looking down at her with blue-gray eyes that seemed to shine as they gazed down at her slowly awakening form, a small smile curling the edges of delicate lips as her humming stopped for but a moment as she leaned in, her proximity making Langley close her eyes to avoid getting any of the locks of gray hair that softly tickled her skin in her eyes as lips ever so gently caressed her forehead for a moment longer than a heartbeat. 

The scent of before was heady this close, intoxicating and enthralling, bidding her to close her eyes and nuzzle into the pale neck that lay before her, idly ghosting her own lips over the pulse point that steadily beat below the ever so gentle skin, the taste of the smooth skin making her hum as a low sigh left the lips of the one who now began to pull back from her.

Lowly, and quite pitifully in hindsight, did Langley whimper as she tried to chase the woman that was moving back from her, trying to cox her to lean back in with an unintelligible warble and lidded eyes, her acts making the woman holding her chuckle lightly.

“You are always so adorable when you are sleepy.” There came to her ears these softly chuckled words as the hand that had stilled in its gentle massage of her scalp resumed it caressing, nails lightly caressing her scalp in such a way that Langley felt the desire to close her eyes and savor the sensation once more, only to force herself to remain awake.

“What…what time…what time is it ‘Sephone?” Sleepily and near unintelligibly there came these words from the lips of the Spider of Paradeisos as she tried to sit up, only for a hand to gently place itself on the center of her chest and push her back down to rest her head on what she now knew to be soft thighs, the hand caressing her scalp pausing to tile her head and coax it into nuzzling into her abdomen, an invitation eagerly accepted. 

A low hum left Persephone’s lips as she gently lifted her hand from Langley’s chest and began to softly stroke her neck up to her cheek, her thumb idly putting the slightest bit of pressure on the corner of Langley's lips, after softly caressing them for but a moment, the pressure making Langley part her lips and take the digit into her mouth, the action making Langley let out a low purr of content while a slight sigh of pleasure leave Persephone’s lips.

For a moment longer there was silence as Langley silently enjoyed the scent and warmth of her lover, the additional sensation and taste of her digit in her mouth only serving to further lull her into closing her eyes once more, though she yet stubbornly resisted until at last she heard her lover softly purr to her-

“Time to sleep dear, we don’t have any work today so you can rest a bit longer. So close your eyes and rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

The words yet still lingering in the air, Persephone leaned down and gently placed her lips to Langley’s forehead for a moment, before she softly tilted her head such that she could elan down and gently ghost her lips over Langley’s own  for but a second before she pulled back with a small smile as she saw Langley close her eyes and begin to drift off to sleep once more.

Sighing softly, Persephone tilted her head back and closed her own eyes as she continued softly stroking Langley’s hair, allowing the gentle caress of her lover’s breath against her clothed abdomen to caress her as she began to slowly slip into unconsciousness herself, yet leaving her thumb in Langley’s mouth for her to suckly upon ever so gently as they both got some much deserved rest.

Fin

1,078 Words…Holy Shit that is the shortest thing I have ever written…How in the hell did…you know what? I’m not complaining, I feel that this short little oneshot can be ended here, though if anyone feels otherwise please let me know and I might go back and edit it a bit.

That said, this is but the start of this merry journey, though I feel I must remind you all that I have many other projects I am working on, and as such cannot promise regular or cohesive updates for this fic in the future.

But, with all of that said and done, I hope you all take care and stay safe,

See you in the next chapter.

[nutmeggery]

Crowley is Lucifer theory - why it makes sense and also why it doesn't

You've probably seen the Crowley Lucifer theory going around. I did and I thought about it.

Possible clues:

We know Crowley was a high ranking angel from s2 through a few clues:

Crowley opening the file.

Crowley asking "how do you know I didn't do it?" when Shax says a miracle only the most powerful of archangels could have performed happened at the bookshop.

There is also the possible clue of Metatron saying that two princes of Heaven falling to hell would be a problem during Gabriel's trial. We can guess the prince of Heaven was Lucifer because, well, the bible. But that's not enough to think it's Crowley, though.

However!

In s1 Crowley says something along the lines "I was just minding my own business then suddenly it's Lucifer and the guys."

So the question is: why would Crowley be part of Lucy's guys if he was just minding his own business? Wouldn't it make more sense that others just started following Crowley because they liked his questioning of authority and just general vibe back then?

(Crowley is also the only character to say the name Lucifer in the show so far.)

In s2 Crowley says the iconic line, "let there be light." And started the universe. Now, isn't Lucifer the light bringer?

Crowley is also the serpent in the garden of Eden, and wasn't that also the devil, Lucifer after the fall?

But, of course, there's the elephant in the room;

Crowley is not Satan, the current ruler of hell.

We've seen Satan. Big, red guy. Definitely not Crowley.

We know Satan rules hell. Traditionally, in bible-fiction media, Lucifer and Satan are the same being. But Good Omens does like to differ from actual bible lore. Like the archangels being high rank and in charge when archangels are not, according to tradition, that highly ranked. Gaimen and Pratchett did mention that the archangels in Good Omens are not the same type of archangel as traditionan. So we know they played around with the lore.

Then, why not have Satan and Lucifer be two different beings as well?

Also note that in the show, the ruler of hell is always referred to as Satan. Never as Lucifer.

Could that be a clue? Is the show telling us Satan and Lucifer are not necessarily the same being?

Crowley doesn't seem interested in ruling hell, or even becoming a grand duke of hell like Beelzebub or Hastur. So wouldn't it make sense that Crowley would let someone else rule hell even if he was technically one of the most powerful demons? or maybe Satan overpowered him. But not being interested in ruling seems more consistent with Crowley's personality.

Then again, having Satan and Lucifer be different beings does seem strange. Why would they (Neil and Terry) do that?

Would Crowley being Lucifer matter?

Probably not. But we don't entirely know how s3 is supposed to pan out. So who knows, really.

Could just be something for us fans to speculate about that will never be confirmed or denied.

Or it could be a big twist that will matter in the end.

But what do you think?

Do you think Crowley could be Lucifer?

Any other clues for or against that I missed?

I should say I wasn't brought up on bible verses or a religious family so my bible knowledge is not the most advanced and I'm sure others know way more stuff that can either lend credence to the theory or destroy it.

[phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing]

How do you reckon an evil Hua arc could go/could have gone?

Well first, the setup is important.

See, we want Hua in character, but by its construction, the HoS arc was Hua ACTING OUT OF CHARACTER... because she was never Hua. Our Hua's wayyy too steadfast, and I don't want to mess that up.

So for an evil Fu Hua, I think we'd need to have Hua be driven to mild insanity by trauma, grief or an external factor like SWARA or the Honkai. Maybe a combination. How about an obsession, too?

If we go by what the HoS arc originally SEEMED to be going for... (beautiful bamboozle that arc trailer)

We can have it be Hua yoinked back into her body because say, Kevin gave her feather back to Otto and he put it back there, and so she's stuck and in pain and doesn't know if Kiana's alright; maybe the Honkai torments her with how she keeps failing her mission and her loved ones, mistakes from a painful past she'd forgotten, etc etc.

So, eventually, she's well enough to break out. Hell, if Otto's around, I can see her beating the crap out of him since he shot her in the face last time they met— but mostly likely she'd go for efficiency, so you'd have a newly Herrscher'd Hua who's unconsciously emitting a ton of Honkai and slaughtering security bots that Otto's trying to contain her with. In that case, she'd mostly just kill Otto because she needs to go through him. Maybe say something cold about how that's how his friends treat one another, considering, you know, he's got his little friend spiel even though he SHOT HER IN THE FACE.

(Seriously they should've let Hua come with Dudu and Kiana to beat him up in Kolosten.)

I don't think she'd care to go find Kevin beyond making sure Kiana escaped him, unlike HoS. Like... evil Hua isn't gonna try and bond with an old comrade, she'd just bulldoze her way through things until she finds her objective. She's stubborn after all! And here I think her priority would be Kiana, given that she left her alone and in danger. Also Fuki's a great ship.

At that point of the timeline, Kiana's with AE, but unlike with HoS, after brutalizing World Serpent HQ for information, she'd go looking for Kiana rather than wait on Mount Taixuan with illusions. So you'd have a lot more active walking disaster.

Not sure when/how she'd notice that she did not come back quite right this time. If she has a quiet moment to reflect, probably quickly? But I kinda want her to... not. Like, Hua needing to get snapped out of it, and in the meantime sweetie's having a grand ol time making a huge mess of things while obsessed with finding Kiana.

You have fun, Hua dear, okay? They'll stop you when they stop you. You earned this.

Then it'd depend whether Hua finds Kiana first, or if AE figures out there's a Herrscher on the loose and Kiana + Bronya go and confront her, only to realize it's their good old class monitor.

THEN I GUESS HUA SNAPS OUT OF THE OBSESSION, REALIZES SHE'S A HERRSCHER, AND THIS TIME WE GET SHATTERED SAMSARA BUT WITHOUT HOS BEING A DIFFERENT PERSON and that honestly makes it even darker coz Hua didn't actually want to kill HoS but she'd have no such qualms against herself

If my memory is correct (too lazy to check rn) that's actually something the devs have said themselves, they wanted a Herrscher to become Fu Hua, rather than Fu Hua becoming a Herrscher, because she'd self-terminate immediately if she thought she was a threat like a Herrscher.

Fun!

[emanation-aura]

ask game!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

This is a response to this post about questions for writers!

7. deepest joy about writing?

Definitely the feeling. The emotion and being cathartic. Writing has been and probably will always be an outlet for me; I love pouring emotion onto the page and receiving comments from people who say same, yes, I felt the same way. Not as eloquently as that, usually, but I take great pride in making my work feel alive, and having others feel something from my work— it makes me even more honoured/excited when what a reader takes from the fic is different to what I wrote into it.

10. has a piece of writing "haunted" me, my own or otherwise? what does that mean?

I talked about it in another answer to this ask game, but these two fics [Only Human, Attack on Titan (tw graphic self-harm) and The Shape of Grief, Maze Runner (tw grief, suicide, psychological torture)] were absolutely fundamental to me. They haunted, and continue to haunt me to this day. I can't place exactly why, although I imagine the heavy themes have something to do with it, but. The slow, agonising prose of The Shape of Grief inspired how I write about emotion today. Only Human told me something about tenderness and care that I keep expressing in my works.

I guess they not so much haunt as keep me company. I don't consciously think about them all the time, but they left something indelible in me that will never go away; and in turn, I let pieces of them "haunt" my own writing, too.

18. Choose a passage from my work, and explain it— backstory, details, how it was written start to finish.

(Genshin Impact fic below! If you're not into Genshin this may not make much sense.)

A flash of lightning from the corresponding i, splitting apart the twisting lines that make up the letter s, a green serpent that writhes in uncomfortably lifelike agony. Swiftly transforming the a into a large valley, the n from nisut crash-lands from the sky, bending and twisting until it is a ruler rising from his throne, sands pouring from his hand. With one swipe of the simplistic brown line, the u rises up as a grand palace door in front, and behind it rises a seemingly endless series of pillars— the slideshow pauses, then, and the letter-characters recombine to brand this grand structure Khaj-Nisut.

This is part of Cyno/Staff of Scarlet Sands section for A Blade Against the World, a work of mine exploring the thematic elements of characters and their "signature" weapons. (I'll very behind because Tighnari/Hunter's Path threw me into writer's block. I've started on Tighnari & Cyno, and have vague plans for Alhaitham, Wanderer, and Dehya.)

Anyway, this passage makes reference to the Deshret script seen all across the desert. Like Egyptian hieroglyphics, they're pictographic—each letter represents a concept. Cyno is currently in King Deshret's Mausoleum trying to decide beween the Key of Khaj-Nisut and Staff of Scarlet Sands, and this pictographic display is done by the characters that compose Khaj-Nisut.

The slideshow represents the history of the Great Red Sand: the lightning splitting apart the serpent is The Usurper/Primordial One vanquishing the seven Dragon Sovereigns, specifically Apep. The n crashlanding into a valley and rising to become a ruler with sand pouring from his hand references Deshret's descension: he was once a "son of the sky" (according to the chinese version of The Lay of Al-Ahmar) who was exiled to Teyvat and became a God-King. The n from the Deshret Script is fitting here because it is Sacred Seal: Right to Rule, a "spitting image of a ruler seated upon a throne". Finally, the u (Sacred Seal: Grand Door: "silhouetted shape of a stone door from an ancient palace") represents the rise of Khaj-Nisut as a city-state.

25. Weird, hyper-specific yet irrelevant detail you know about one of your characters?

Hmm... let me give an answer for both the fandoms I actively write for now.

Genshin: In Structural Isomerism, where mad scientist Sucrose accidentally reverse-engineers the element of Time via Anemo, I imagine that Lisa (who doesn't even appear in the fic!) ends up actually going into retirement, even quitting as a librarian, because of the stress that the aftermath of this incident causes (she probably has to clean up and figure out who the hell showed up and turned Albedo back into chalk).

Persona 5: Whenever I write, I keep in mind that Akechi actually is slightly envious of Sumire's gymnastic ability, even though he's disgusted by the way she was brainwashed by Maruki and so weak-willed. He justifies it as he wants flexibility and skill for Metaverse killing, but actually it makes something deep inside hurt to see someone wholeheartedly devoted to a single, transcendental dream against all odds. This has never come up in any fic I write, though, and the sole thing this idea does it affect how I characterise Goro talking with Sumire.

28. Most delightful character you’ve ever written and why?

(Persona 5)

Goro Akechi, without a single doubt. My Joker Palace fic(s) are set from his perspective most of the time (because Akira is indisposed by the cognitive hell of hating himself so much that he has a Palace :P), and he is truly delightful to explore.

Goro is violent and standoffish and cold, but he also cares (for Akira) in ways that make little sense to even himself. He is a living contradiction, acting and justifying his own actions in a way that suggests neither outright guilt/remorse nor total callous disregard. He isn't exactly at peace with his spotty past with serial killing and working for Shido, but he's also accepted every aspect of himself and won't hide behind another Detective Prince mask again out of a desire to be liked or respected. He will forge ahead in the world on his own terms, knowing that his past may permanently stain him but at least it is part of the true him, no matter what (especially poignant with Maruki arc). I've had so much fun with the violent swear-y inner monologue, balanced with moments of painful self-reflection about the nature of his and Akira's relationship. He is simultaneously very self-aware and also very oblivious about aspects of himself and others, and I think that it's a challenging but fun balancing act.

Example of a moment I enjoyed writing very much:

“Are you going to fight me?” Goro asks impatiently, done with this farce of Akira, the impostor wearing his face in a heart of distorted lies. “Or are you going to disarm me again and again, ever since you let me in here?” Because Akira— Cognitive Akira— has done nothing but surrender his heart to Goro over and over again. It’s just a tad insulting when Goro is his former assassin and serial killer, being allowed to walk all over his heart’s defenses without even a will of rebellion to keep him out. (Where is Akira’s Persona, anyway?)

[an-aussie-button-masher]

Out With a Bang - Five of the Coolest Video Game Endings

   If there’s one thing that video games always need to get right, it’s the ending. Everything’s been building up to this point, so it really needs to stick the landing to be a properly satisfying finish. Even a mediocre game can be saved by a great ending, but some games really go the extra mile to make the final battle a truly epic moment to be remembered. Massive-scale battles, multiple-stage marathon fights, intense escapes; there are plenty of ways to put the “grand” in the grand finale, but there’s only so many games that do it right. I’ve gathered a handful of games that I believe really nailed the big finish - but remember, spoilers abound! You have been warned - but aside from that, read on and enjoy some of the coolest endings video games have to offer!

Super Mario Odyssey - Bowser    As far as Mario games go, Odyssey’s plot is fairly standard - Bowser kidnaps Peach, Mario has to go off and rescue her. The final battle against Bowser is a souped-up version of an earlier fight against him, but it’s what comes after the fight that’s the important part. Once Bowser is out for the count and Peach is safe, the cave they’re all in starts collapsing and there seems no way out…or is there? Throughout the game, with Mario capturing and controlling all manner of enemies along his journey, everything has been leading up to this moment: capturing BOWSER! With the Koopa King under Mario’s control, the player gets to really feel just how unstoppable he can be as you smash and thrash your way through the self-destructing cave with an epic new song rocking away in your ears. Odyssey is probably the most intense ending to a Mario game yet, all thanks to Bowser’s power in Mario’s hands!

God of War - Baldur    In a series known for massive-scale battles against all-powerful gods, God of War (2018) is fairly subdued in comparison…until the grand finale, that is, where Kratos and Baldur go head-to-head for a second time in true God of War fashion. Throughout the heavily emotional conflict, Baldur’s mother Freya constantly tries to break up the fight, initially by trapping the two with magic and ultimately resorting to resurrecting the nearby skyscraper-sized corpse of the frost giant Thamur. Because, y’know, God of War. The fight is lengthy and increasingly dangerous, until Kratos’ son Atreus manages to summon the massive world serpent, Jörmungandr, to attack Thamur. Once the nigh-invincible Baldur is finally killed, with Kratos snapping his neck to stop his murderous vengeance against Freya, the fight seems over but the trouble is just beginning. Baldur’s death not only invokes Freya’s rage, but triggers the start of the apocalyptic Ragnarök, setting the stage for the sequel and changing the world forever.

Ratchet & Clank: Into the Nexus - Mr. Eye    The Ratchet & Clank series is often known for bullet-sponge bosses where the only real strategy is “shoot it until it dies”. Into the Nexus changes things up a little, with the final battle against the monstrous Mr. Eye being one of the longest fights against one of the largest bosses in the entire franchise. Ratchet alone has to confront the skyscraper-sized interdimensional horror, with only a tiny platform to stand on while Mr. Eye tears up the entire city around him. The fight is broken up into several stages, with puzzles in-between the combat where Clank must search Mr. Eye’s home dimension for someone to help banish the creature as Ratchet fights for survival. Mr. Eye also smashes the platform arena, creating fast-paced platforming segments that make use of the game’s new gravity boot mechanics to leap across the floating debris. Throughout the fight, the game blasts hyped-up heroic music to pump you up, giving Ratchet and the player the resolve needed to overcome this marathon of a battle.

Risk of Rain 2 - Mithrix    In Risk of Rain 2, the lunar themes present in the game come full circle as you’re teleported to the moon of Petrichor V for the final battle, fighting your way across strange ancient architecture until you confront Mithrix. Mithrix puts up the toughest fight in the game, even resorting to stealing the players’ entire inventory of powerful items and using them against you! Unlike any other boss in the game, Mithrix even taunts the player in the chat, right up until you beat your items back out of his hands and finally slay him. Once he’s down however, a countdown appears onscreen and gives you two minutes before the moon itself explodes! Rushing back to the start of the level to find an escape pod, bizarre new enemies appear from the Void to slow you down until you manage to launch the pod. The ending cutscene shows the player barely escaping as the moon is swallowed by the Void, vanishing into nothing…

Jedi: Fallen Order - Darth Vader    Some games make the player feel like a powerful badass after beating the final boss, while others demonstrate just how much stronger the enemy is compared to you. Then there’s Jedi: Fallen Order, where after beating a dangerous Sith Inquisitor, the relatively young and inexperienced Cal Kestis is faced with Darth Vader himself. To show just how out of his depth Cal is in comparison, Vader doesn’t even have a healthbar - attacking him is futile, and the only option is to run like hell. As Vader uses the Force to literally tear the level apart behind Cal, the player has to dodge debris and enemies in a mad dash for survival - and just when you think you’ve lost him, Darth Vader jumpscares you as the Imperial March blares. Cal has to drop an entire ocean on Vader just for a chance of escaping, and both he and the player will be thanking their lucky stars they survived.

   Of course, this is only a small handful of examples of great video game endings. If you know any other fitting examples or if I’ve missed anything about these ones, let me know! Reblogs and likes are much appreciated!   Thanks for reading!

[thefadinguyo]

“It is circular in form and is known by the name of the Caracol, or Winding Staircase, on account of its interior arrangements. It stands on the upper of two terraces. The lower one measuring in front, from north to south, two hundred and twenty-three feet, and is still in good preservation. A grand staircase, forty-five feet wide, and containing twenty steps, rises to the platform of this terrace. On each side of the staircase, forming a sort of balustrade, rest the entwined bodies of two gigantic serpents, three feet wide, portions of which are still in place; and amongst the ruins of the staircase a gigantic head, which had terminated, at one side the foot of the steps. The platform of the second terrace measured eighty feet in front and fifty-five in depth, and is reached by another staircase forty-two feet wide and having forty-two steps. In the centre of the steps and against the wall of the terrace are the remains of a pedestal six feet high, on which probably once stood an idol. On the platform, fifteen feet from the last step, stands the building. It is twenty-two feet in diameter and has four small doorways facing the cardinal points. Above the cornice the roof sloped off so as to form an apex. The height, including the terraces, is little short of sixty feet. The doorways give entrance to a circular corridor five feet wide. The inner wall has four doorways, smaller than the others, and standing intermediately with respect to them. These doors give entrance to a second circular corridor, four feet wide, and in the centre is a circular mass, apparently of solid stone, seven feet six inches in diameter; but in one place, at the height of eleven feet from the floor, was a small square opening, which I endeavoured to clear out but without success. The roof was so tottering that I could not discover to what this opening led. The walls of both corridors were plastered and covered with paintings, and both were covered with a triangular arch.”

[winter-literature]

Le Chat et le Serpent - Chapter 34

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

Chapter Summary:

Adrien and Luka discuss the direction after their proclamations of love. We check in on Lila and Felix. Once again, I would like to remind readers that the chapters since the finding of Emelie have all been a linear timeline.

The song for this Chapter is 'Time is Running Out' by the Muse. It is shared below.

Chapter 34: You Will be the Death of Me

I Wanna Play the Game, I Want the Friction

“Adrien!” Shouted Plagg from the backseat. 

Everything was melting around Adrien, Luka’s hands were against his back, his lips against his. If he were dreaming, he wasn’t ready to wake up yet. 

“Adrieeeeeeeen!” Plagg’s yelp grew louder and increased in pitch. 

Adrien let out a slight growl, angry that Plagg could not give them a moment. To Luka’s dismay, Adrien freed his lips from him. Luka maintained his grip on Adrien’s hips as he watched the inflections across his Prettyboy’s face. The twinge of irritation blended with affection twitched through his face as he leered towards the Kwami in the backseat. No matter what degree of challenges Plagg would exert upon the boy, Adrien could never subdue his doting instinct to care for his Kwami. 

“WHAT can be SO urgent, Plagg?” Adrien huffed to vocalise a level of vexation his face would not convey.  

“I’m hungry.” He stated simply. Adrien and Sass shared the same expression of exasperation. 

“Then eat the cheese .” Adrien did not understand why Plagg was getting so moody. He often butted himself into conversations, or was complaining about the fact that there was never enough cheese, but this was frustratingly distinctive. 

“I already told you, I am starving !” Plagg enunciated ‘starving’ so that Adrien would understand the fact that there was no more food left. 

“Did you eat the whole block already, Plagg?” Adrien was too bewildered to maintain his anger. 

“I shared a little bit!” Plagg meagerly defended his unyielding gluttony. He’d given Sass a small bite, convincing him for the first time in a century to try camembert again. Sass all but spit it out, reaffirming his stance on the pungent dairy product. 

“Fine, Plagg. We will go get more cheese.” Adrien grit his teeth, not appreciating the fact that he needed to leave Luka’s lap. 

Luka pouted as Adrien ascended. Warmed by the dissatisfaction of his increasing distance, Adrien pulled Luka forward to kiss him one last time before he crept over the centre console. Once Adrien was situated, Luka reached over the console to give him yet another embrace. 

“Thank you! Luka’s house is on the way home, so we might as well drop him off while we’re at it.” Plagg confidently shared his grand plan as the couple continued to struggle with the notion of separating. 

Luka paused his affection towards Adrien, confused at Plagg’s behaviour. Plagg was often one to give him a hard time, but never fought to expel him. He assumed the Kwami must have been harbouring resentment over the fact that he sent him away to call an ambulance. His train of thought was extensive enough that it gave Adrien a moment to share his own plan. 

“Or,” Adrien spoke against Luka’s lips, “you could come see my new place.” 

“Hmmm,” Luka trailed affection down Adrien's jawline, “as much as I love that idea, Juleka is probably freaking out.” His journey of tenderness circled as he spoke, landing back against Adrien’s pout. 

Defiantly, Adrien pushed with a passionate force against the lips that already rested against his. He was numb to the dull ache caused by the pressure of the centre console against his hip, too engrossed by the prickles that ran along his skin as he entwined his fingers into thick blue hair. He wanted to hold Luka as close as possible, and never let him leave. Even after the fervorous embrace was broken, he endured his firm grip on the back of Luka’s scalp, pressing their foreheads together as they shared laboured breaths. 

Adrien’s voice was arguably quieter than his pants as he pleaded with Luka. “Just a few more minutes?” 

Intoxicated by Adrien’s yearning, Luka brushed the sides of their noses against each other. “I’ll come get cheese with you.” Reactively, Adrien stole Luka’s ability to speak once again.

“But,” Luka broke the rhapsodic intertwinement of their lips, “we need to come right back.” 

His own words incited torment within himself. Adrien’s body seemingly shared the anguish of pain yet to come. His Prettyboy’s struggling breaths were hot and uneven against his cheek. His pulse of yearning so vehement Luka swore he could hear it. Adrien’s eager body was nearly impossible to deny, especially from this close. 

Arduously, Luka broke their reverie as he slid back in his own seat. He eased their withdrawals by preserving their connection, never allowing his touch to entirely leave the comfort of Adrien’s skin. 

As Adrien ignited his engine, Plagg mumbled in the backseat. His venomous oration was solely heard by his old friend. “Or, you could just go back to your stupid concert and leave us alone.” 

Sass knew that Plagg’s irritation derived from concern over Adrien. He didn’t have to witness the aftermath to know that Plagg had not adequately processed the fact that he almost lost Adrien. Sass had scattered interactions with Plagg’s holders throughout their lives. Never before had he witnessed the Kwami of destruction become so encompassingly devoted to a human. Plagg had always kept a protective distance, all too aware that their lust for self destruction would be quick to engulf them. 

“At least he is able to find happiness within Luka. I have found that humans function better with cherished relationships.” Sass whispered in an attempt to warm Plagg to the rekindling flame. 

Street lights passed over Plagg as he hushedly spat his acidity. “Right now! But, how long do you think that’s going to last? And the more they get all close and gross, the worse Adrien’s injuries are going to get.” 

In an attempt to offer an iota of comfort to Plagg, Sass tenderly rubbed his back. Plagg restrained his blotted inklings of despair as he averted his gaze from the couple in the front. Adrien refused his help, the protection of Marinette’s identity muzzled him, and Master Fu’s rules chained him; he was forced to standby helplessly as Adrien was unknowingly prancing forward into tragedy. 

Adrien knew there would still be issues, that he and Luka hadn’t fixed what was broken, but everything was easier to handle when the exquisite man sat beside him. As the traffic light before them turned red, Adrien popped his clutch into neutral. He took the moment of his freed fingers to squeeze Luka’s knee. For a second, they felt normal. 

Comfortably sighing, Luka rested his head on Adrien’s shoulder. Adrien responded by tilting his temple against Luka’s wild hair. They both knew they only had a few moments before the light turned green, but they savoured their fleeting moment. 

You're Something Beautiful, a Contradiction

Lila tiptoed through the apartment as she went to pour her morning coffee. Felix was particularly on edge with her since the night Emelie was found and she didn’t want to risk unnecessary wrath against her. The rebellious side to her wanted to argue with him, knowing she was right. But she did not want to toy with the risk of pushing away the only person she ever allowed to get close to her. She knew he adored her in terms of transactional value. His love based upon her degrees of her usefulness towards him. Within her rationalisation, she translated it to someone choosing to find dependency with her. It was moments, such as this morning, that forced her to regard reality; after all this time, it was her who had become dependent upon him. 

Since she was young, she could never comprehend the allure of romantic relationships. The concept of wielding power over someone, however, was always fascinating. In her adolescence, she was taught that she was beautiful. That the perfection of her skin could bring both boys and men alike to their knees. It’s encaptivating how easily kings are taken down by an aptly timed photo. 

The disinterest, or more specifically, lackadaisical perspective regarding sexual relationships was key to her rise in pay and fame. When you harbour no deep yearning or shame, it is simple to put yourself in a seemingly vulnerable position. Does it really qualify as an attack when her victims were mal-intentioned themselves? Her acting ability was honed at a young age, fuelled by rich men who believed they’d found their prey. 

As she aged, her methods matured with her, increasing in precision. Her relationship with Felix, or more specifically Adrien, was initiated by such methods. Her plans were thwarted by an unforeseen avalanche of variables. Felix kept her within his grasp with a mystical promise of incomprehensible power. 

The prospect of domination over others will everlastingly conduct her actions, but Felix resulted in being the greatest unforeseen variable. When she returned, he was unhinged. Triumph was never as rewarding when her competitor was weak. He was akin to a lost puppy, needing a warm blanket and a fresh bowl of water. She didn’t quite comprehend why that seemed to have a physical effect on her, she assumed it must have been whatever she ate earlier. 

She nursed him back to sanity, moulding Felix into a source of pride. A piece of her own creation. Perhaps it was this belief of a moulding of herself that altered something within her. Her sexuality, used only as a weapon prior, started begging for his attention. 

It only grew worse the longer she stayed. His drive for power reflected her own, his meticulousness was gravitating, and his smirk weakened her. She cared about what he thought, about how he held himself near her, about where his eyes would land. 

She demoted from the dominaneer to the dominated. Now she watched her tongue and fell in line. Even when she believed he was wrong, she didn’t want to risk being without his icy, animalistic presence. Beyond the irritation of her incapability to subdue her infatuation, her greatest rage was incited by the fact that he would constantly choose illogical actions - and that she would feel apologetic for her appropriate reprehension of the situation. 

For someone so enraptured with power though, Felix had incomprehensible soft spots. Such as his apprehension to take opportunities against Luka. Considering their familial connections, she could somewhat accept the concept of not wanting to attack Adrien, but refusing an offence against Luka was perplexing. If Luka held the ring that Felix so desired, he should have been at the top of the list. And they’ve had so many opportunities. Nearly every time Adrien rebuffs Luka, Felix’s pendant glows. 

The night of Emelie’s finding had incited cataclysmic amounts of emotion throughout the property. Paparazzi’s humiliated as they were pushed off of gates. It was a perfect moment. Yet, somehow, he revolted at her exhilaration. Despised the concept of taking their clearest opportunity. 

Lila was so engrossed in thought she did not hear Felix’s nearing steps. 

“You’re up early.” Felix resembled Adrien the most in the morning. Beyond being expectedly dishevelled, it was nearly as if he wasn’t awake enough to remember that he was supposed to be scheming. 

Amused at Felix’s acknowledgement of her presence, she sang. “I made coffee, would you like a cup?” Lila reached for the cupboard. 

Felix nodded while he scratched at his unkempt hair. Considering Felix hadn’t said a word to her yesterday, this was a significant improvement. 

Opening the fridge, Felix turned to the Kwamis floating around him. “What are you guys feeling like today?” 

“Oatmeal cookies!” Nooroo giddily suggested. 

“And BACON!” Barkk added in a thrilled bellow. 

“Hmm, so just like every morning?” Felix chuckled. Whether or not he got the same answer every day, he would still keep asking. They may not be there of their own accord, but they continued to support Felix nevertheless. 

“Pretty please!” Barkk released her puppy dog eyes.

Felix started heating up the pan before he reached for the cookies, wanting to ensure that both Kwamis would get fed at the same time. Lila leaned pensively against the counter as she analysed Felix cooking.

She didn’t know if she was fully forgiven, but he was on her side once again. She could tell from the softness in his hands as he laid down the strips of meat, that there were extra pieces for her, and that he wasn’t rebuffing her presence. 

“If Luka carries the ring, he doesn’t understand it.” Felix flipped the bacon as he spoke. 

It took a few moments for Lila to register he was speaking to her. She carefully chose her words. “I know you don’t want to hurt Adrien, but maybe, if we Akumatized Luka, he would willingly hand over the ring. Then we can break control immediately. Do nothing but ask if he wields it.” She was attempting to reason with his weaknesses. 

“No.” Felix’s voice remained soft. “We may control those we successfully Akumatize, but we can’t anticipate their responses. If he doesn’t have the ring, he could tip off the actual holder and jeopardise all the work we’ve done up to this point.” 

Understanding where the direction of the conversation was leading, Lila scampered to grab her files on possible Akuma victims. 

Felix dolled out the breakfast as they sat down to analyse the desperate people that Lila could degrade. 

Author's Note:

Once I had the line of "fleeting moment" I had to change this chapter. It was a good opportunity to put a Lila and Felix reaction. I first had them on the night of, but it sounded off - so this moment actually worked way better. I enjoyed the ability to consider why Lila and Felix are around each other. Again, I believe that Lila is sociopathic, however, I believe that there is still some form of connections that can be made - just in ways that may breed confusion since they are not accustomed to their own emotions of caring. That may be my own sprinkling of fantasy, but alas.

Plagg caring so much about Adrien also melts my heart. He's just such a big softie.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[greendreamer]

What if Kate teams up with her lupari to save the 21st-century

[random-imagines-blog]

Beacon {Hermione Lodge x Female!Jones!Reader NSFW Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2499 Summary: Being a Jones gave you a bad reputation, though a good one among the ladies. Hermione is about to learn why. Notes: SMUT SMUT SMUT

A lot of people tended to associate the last name Jones with rottenness. The singer Tom Jones - he was a creepy piece of shit. Don’t even get me started on Jim Jones. He was probably the worst of the worst. But in Riverdale, Jones was synonymous with three people. FP Jones, the leader of the Southside Serpents, Riverdale’s answer to what happens when people get bored in a small town. Jughead Jones, a mini FP with some sort of weirdo victim complex. He’s making waves by not being fully a Southsider or a Northsider, alternating between the two with his friends, his gang, and his little girlfriend. And then - there was me. I tended to keep my head down most of the time. I commuted to work out of town, but always spent my weekends in Riverdale, hanging out at the White Wyrm with the Serpents, despite not being one myself. I mostly just became known as the other one. But the city would be wrong to think that I didn’t have that Jones-type streak in me. Though I wasn’t involved in the gang life or these stupid wars that my little brother was fighting, I had a devious hobby of my own. One that made the little Riverdale dads quake in their nice shoes. I was the lesbian who stole wives.

And right now, I was working on the grand prize.

A Mrs Hermione Lodge.

With her husband being scum and her daughter being high strung and hardly ever spending any time at home, she was feeling stressed and lonely, and that is when I had come in. I loved going over to Pop’s, it was the prime place to be, especially on a Saturday night. I had called in food for Dad and I, Jughead was gonna be having dinner with the Coopers, blech, so it was just four burgers, enough for the two of us. I was leaning against the counter, waiting for the bag when someone caught my eye. The long dark hair. The bronze skin. The harsh look but the gentle eyes. Well hello Miss Lodge.

She was picking up dinner too. We were both standing beside one another and I initiated a conversation, complimenting her boots. She seemed a little surprised that the spawn of FP was talking to her but she settled into it well enough. We fell into a pleasant chat, and I invited her out for drinks sometime. Something she accepted readily. Poor girl, she didn’t have a thing going on in the world.

And that is how we ended up here.

Alone inside of my bedroom in the trailer, FP having gone out to do some business. The way that she looked at my home annoyed me somewhat. She was clearly used to the bigger and better things. The extravagant Lodge lifestyle. Fancy hotels and penthouse suites. Not this dingy little thing with my room that could fit comfortably inside of her shoe closet.

But we couldn’t go into her house, oh no. Knowing her husband, he probably had cameras all around the place and would know the second that you set foot within the place. You told her that you just plain didn’t give a fuck. Let him find out. Let him see what it looked like when his wife was happy and taken care of for the first time. But she was scared - and against your better judgement, you let her be scared. You let her keep this all a secret. A dirty little secret - those had a way of coming out in Riverdale. But that would be Hermione’s problem. Not yours.

It started off as soon as you were in your small bedroom - the kissing, her hundred dollar lipstick mashing against the one that you had stolen from the Wal-Mart in the next town over. She seemed rather unclear on what to do. She had confessed to you that she didn’t have much experience with other women, having had been essentially promised to Hiram from the beginning, and having a slight affair with Fred Andrews. You were going to teach her a thing or two, as long as she relaxed.

She was stiff, but returning in the kisses, while you did the majority of the touching. You gave her a bit of a pull inside of the room, and helped her to take off her dress, while you stayed perfectly dressed. A power dynamic in play. She had a naturally submissive side which you were going to exploit. After she was just in her underwear, probably also worth a hundred dollars at least, black and lacy and fit her bottom perfectly, she backed up against the door. She had every chance to leave. You weren’t caging her in here. But you could see - she enjoyed being vulnerable.

You crouched down, your hands running across the smooth fabric of those panties, teasing her by not going inside. Right where the crease was, right where it dipped in, you started to press kisses, making her droop back against the door, trying to find stability. You were touching, rubbing, smoothing at her glowing skin. She was golden all over. Finally, you started to pull the fabric down, and she shyly tried to hide herself behind her hand but you wouldn’t let her. Beautiful shaved. Just - beautiful.You really had a thing for the MILFs. Maybe it was because they seemed to appreciate it more? You were kissing against, spreading her folds, really getting a good look at her. Paying attention to her in the way that her husband had not in a very long time. Flicking your tongue. Your eyes, the same blue as your brothers, looking up at her. Though you were the one on your knees, you had all the control.

She turned into a moaning mess against your door. You held her steady by her hips, her hair nearly long enough to touch the tops of your hands. She was licking her lips and resting her hand, sharp manicured nails, against your cheek. She squealed in a rather undignified way as you started to tongue-fuck her from your position, getting in there, knowing the right spots in the way that only another woman could. Her knees were buckling, she was close to bouncing, and then you cut it off by moving up to join her lips again, hands on the back of her neck for a full on hot as fuck make out session. She didn’t even mind the taste of herself upon my tongue.

You traced down her body to go between her legs again with her fingers, stimulating her clit with small circles, using your middle finger to really get into her folds. All the while, the kisses weren’t stopping. She didn’t seem sure about what to do with her hands, but she was trying. She was grabbing onto your breasts, going up and down your arms, through your hair. She was so fumbly and insecure that you forced her to turn around, her own breasts pressed up against the wood. You only let up on the touching her for that one second while she leaned her head against the door, sticking her tush out. You couldn’t believe how beautiful she really was. You couldn’t stop admiring her. The softness of her skin, the taste of her neck.

You caressed everything, before finally inserting a finger inside of her. She moaned again, leaning her head back. You pressed against her, really curling your finger, putting in a second one, while your other hand wrapped around to rub circles again. The noises were growing obscene. You were pushing back a smirk. You bet her husband couldn’t make her wet like this. Couldn’t make her moan like this. Couldn’t make her cum like you were about to just from touching her. Her moans started to grow louder, and she muttered out a “Oh my God” that was making all of your effort worth it. You were moving faster and faster until she came fully unfurled, her body spasming against yours. She was essentially humping your door which was amusing. Oh, Miss Hermione Lodge. You weren’t looking so high class at the moment. Oh, the way that back was arching. You were amused. She was lost in her reverie.

You ended up back on your bed, you sitting down with her naked body between your legs. The kissing had commenced again. She tasted so ... so sweet. As did her skin, you noticed, as you went down her neck towards her shoulders. She finally started to realize that this shouldn’t be all about her, the spoiled rich woman getting everything that she wanted, and she started to touch back. She took your breasts in her hands as she licked up your jawline, bringing out an unexpected moan.

You relinquished the sense of control, but you still felt like you had it this whole time. You let her believe that she was taking the reins, but really, you were getting everything that you wanted. Especially as her warm mouth was then engulfing your sensitive nipple, tongue swirling. Her lipstick was getting all over you - good. The shade looked almost as good on you than it did on her.

You particularly liked it when she looked up at you. Like she was waiting for some sort of compliment. Something to give her a sense of pride. She was a needy one, this woman. You were enjoying yourself, but it was going to take more than what she was giving you to dole out the compliments.

Touching. Kissing. Skin in her mouth. Eye contact. A few moans here and there. You let yourself be pampered by the woman who was still wanting to take something even while giving. She seemed reluctant to go down, and you weren’t going to force her, it could be intimidating for first timers. But you laid back, you made yourself comfortable, and she ended up getting there at her own pace. Your own dress started to bunch around your waist, and she removed your panties as if they were expensive, despite just being from Wal-Mart. And then she took a few tentative, exploratory licks, trying to get her mind around what she was doing.

You finally gave her a bit of what she wanted. “Oh - fuck yes, Hermy,” You said, coming up with the new nickname for her. You ran the fingers of your one hand through her hair while with the other, you were feeling yourself up, grabbing onto your own chest. She didn’t know to give you her all, but you could put some of the work in. She started to become more bold as she adjusted herself to the taste, more lustful, more - powerful. There was always something more erotic about a woman who grew comfortable in front of your own eyes.

You were letting out moans as she hit the good spot, the little hooded area of your clit, with her tongue. She noticed that, took note of that, and kept on going back for more. She was treating you like a pomegranate, trying to suck all the seeds out and into her mouth. Her hands smoothed up and down your widely spread thighs. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart, so good,” You complimented, your head tilted upwards, gasping to the heavens.

You thrust your hips up to meet her more fully, grinding onto her face as you finally reached your peak with that gorgeous tongue of hers. A thin sheen of sweat was covering the both of you. So much of her lipstick had smudged around her body. Her eyeliner was less than perfect now. She hadn’t turned into a total mess but she was getting there, something which kept you aroused even though her breathlessness showed that she couldn’t take much more.

You pulled her up and onto the bed with you, moving her hair to the side so that you could tuck into her shoulder and lazily, but very satisfied, kissed her shoulder blade. She hummed contently, her breath still labored but there was a smile on her face.

“That was...” She started, and then realized she was lost for words. It made you laugh against the warmth of her skin.

“Amazing?” You finished for her. She nodded. “Too bad you’re still going to go back to that stupid husband of yours. And definitely too bad you didn’t let me mark you. You’d look even prettier with hickies, especially on your thighs...” You traced a hand down there, enjoying her softness. Women - they really were God’s gift. “You make the prettiest sounds, I could listen to you all day.”

“Don’t tempt me,” She said, laughing deeply. You put a few more kisses on her, and then wrapped your arms around her in a cuddle. “I can’t stay much longer, y/n, I... I have to get back before Hiram does.”

“You know I can protect you, Hermy,” You whispered, really not wanting her to go. “You don’t have to go back. You can stay here with me. I know it’s not ideal but... we’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you. And you know no one can make you feel as good as I do.”

“I know,” She breathed. “I know. I want to, it’s just - Veronica and...”

The downside of being into MILFs. The M part.

“Veronica is a boss ass bitch from everything Juggie has been telling me, you should be really proud,” You said. “But I guess I get it. She’s your baby.”

“And always will be,” Hermione admitted. A pang of jealousy - your mother had no trouble leaving you, taking Jellybean and going, leaving you and Jug behind, and right beside you was a shining example of a mother willing to put her daughter’s happiness above her own. But you had to admire that in her. You had to love that about Hermione.

“Just a few minutes longer, then I’ll take you back to your car,” You said, cuddling close into her, pulling her into a spooning position. It wasn’t sexual anymore, it was just about holding her, having her close, taking in the smell of her expensive perfume, the softness of her body from costly lotions. A few minutes longer turned into an hour as she fell asleep and you were too enthralled by her to wake her up. You moved some of the hairs from her face, gazing at her beauty. The thick brows and lashes, the plump lower lip, the rounded tip of her nose.

Damn if you weren’t growing more smitten by the second. Giving her back to Hiram might just be the hardest thing you ever have to do.

[lucemferto]

I wrote that Wilbur scene I talked about yesterday. I don't know if I captured any of the characters' voices, but I tried. It's around 1,800 words.

Sorry to spoil the surprise, but this scene has a twist!

„I’m not joining you.“

Wilbur’s eyes grew narrow. His cold gaze lingered on Tommy’s face. The boy’s expression was resolute; unwavering.

But there was this slight twitch in the left corner of his mouth. Just the faintest quiver in his lips. A weakness to be exploited.

“This burger van …” Tommy hesitated “… it’s just history repeating itself. It will end with us hurting people again …”

“’With us hurting people’?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow.

As he stepped closer, all the determination that Tommy had projected seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. Wilbur gave him a wide smile – a thinly-veiled threat behind the appearance of affability.

“Tommy, we never hurt anyone! L’Manburg was a grand old time, Tommy, don’t you remember? Me as president; you as—”

“Maybe it wasn’t, Wilbur.”

Wilbur’s smile faltered. A glower displaced his once outwardly cheery disposition.

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m not making sense?!” Tommy raised his voice, a blustering anger flaring up and painting over the insecurities that had been so apparent just moments before. “The presidency killed you, Wilbur! And it almost killed Tubbo! I can’t let that—”

“Tubbo?!” A hoarse laugh escaped Wilbur’s throat; more like the angry bellowing of a rabid dog. “Why the fuck should we care about Tubbo?! He betrayed us, Tommy!”

“T-That’s not true!”

Wilbur stepped closer; Tommy took a step back – but the walls of the van were already pressed up against his back. The older man was towering over him, casting him in shadow. A wild and manic energy was glinting in his eyes, bloodshot and red like sundown soon giving way to a dark night.

“He fucking teamed with the enemy, Tommy! What else would you call that?!”

“He still cares—”

Wilbur’s hand shot forward. Like the maw of an angry serpent, it closed itself around Tommy’s throat. All colour drained from the boy’s face – his complexion like that of a corpse.

“Don’t you fucking get it, Tommy?!” Little droplets of spittle rained on Tommy’s skin as Wilbur’s face inched ever closer to his. “Tubbo doesn’t care; he never cared! You were just a fucking tool to him, Tommy! Someone he could use and throw away once you were no longer useful!”

Wilbur’s dirty fingernails burrowed themselves into Tommy’s neck – soon trails of red were trickling down into the boy’s shirt.

“I’m the only who cares, Tommy! I’m the only one who ever cared about you!”

“Wilbur! Y-you’re hurting me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy! I don’t ca—”

“STOP!”

The scene halted; as though time had frozen. A figure emerged from the darkness of the burger van.

It was Wilbur.

Though he and the Wilbur currently choking Tommy looked almost identical upon first glance, there were some striking differences: Gleaming red eyes contrasted against tired brown ones; demonic intensity against a dull exhaustion. The first Wilbur seemed almost unnaturally tall and imposing as he towered over Tommy; the second Wilbur carried himself smaller, more guarded.

“I d-don’t …” For a moment the voice of the second Wilbur seemed to falter; but soon he snapped back to a more confident bearing; all insecurity obscured behind a steadfast façade. “No more!”

A deafening silence fell upon the van. Then, slowly, as though unattached from his neck, Tommy’s head turned to Wilbur. Brilliant blue gave way to a searing crimson; fear to a wide, sharp-teethed grin.

“Whaaaat? You don’t enjoy the little play I put on just for you? And I thought you’d be impressed with all the cool ghost shit I can do now.”

With a sickening ratch, two horns ripped through Tommy’s temples. Shadow swallowed his blond locks, transforming them into dark, slicked back hair. Murky, unkempt facial hair sprout from his skin as his once lively complexion grew grey and translucent. Smokey tendrils enshrouded the red and white T-Shirt, before it emerged as a black business suit, the bloodred tie serving as the only blotch of colour.

The ghost of Schlatt had appeared before Wilbur.

“Guess it hit a little too close to home, huh?”

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. While the illusionary Tommy had disappeared upon Glatt’s arrival, the facsimile of himself was still standing there. Frozen in eternal wrath.

Wilbur’s mouth grew thin. “I wouldn’t do that to Tommy. I would never hurt him.”

Feigned shock contorted Glatt’s mouth into a darkly comical expression. “That’s not what he told me.”

Wilbur felt something icy sting in his chest “What?”

Glatt nodded. “Yeah, it was the strangest thing. I was in my gym doing reps, snorting creatine, you know how it goes, when suddenly I hear some … some whining.”

Wilbur immediately took notice. He knew what Glatt was talking about. The lump in his throat felt like it would soon suffocate him.

Glatt didn’t seem to notice.

“The sound of some low-T beta just letting it all out. And when I go take a look, who else should I find but—"

“Tommy …”

“Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, when I turn the corner, I see this real pathetic mess just sitting on the floor, sobbing. I told him to shut the fuck up, because he was throwing me off my game. But he just wouldn’t stop, so good guy that I am – you remember how great I am with kids!”

“You never were.”

“Oh no, I was! That Tubbo-kid, he had it good in Manberg.”

Wilbur flinched – whether it was because of the bastardized name of the country he had once loved and loathed or because Glatt’s words woke some memories in him that he’d soon rather forget; he did not know.

“You had him executed.”

Glatt nodded, a wistful smile curling his ashen lips. “Good times, good times. Anyway, the little ghost-brat … he tells me his name is Gommy.”

Glatt let out a harsh, bellowing laugh. Wilbur could not share his amusement. He had almost forgotten how much he hated Schlatt’s sneering.

The ghost still had not managed to fully compose himself. “Gommy, that’s such a dumb name! Gommy … you wanna know what a good name is?”

“Is it—?”

“GLATT!”

The sound came out like a bile-filled belch. Wilbur closed his eyes in exasperation; his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose.

“I figured … Does this story have a point or are you just here to waste my time?”

Glatt frowned. “What, am I not good enough company for you?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

For the first time in their conversation, Glatt’s face grew more serious. His red stare tore into Wilbur; almost drilled into his mind. Wilbur answered the ghost’s stare with what he hoped was a cold, unreadable expression.

But he knew that in Schlatt’s presence, there were no masks to wear. No intent to hide. That ram was the only man that could strip him bare.

Finally, Wilbur had to break eye contact. With a sound of exasperation, he spat out: “Get to the point!”

“‘Get to the point’” The false Wilbur moved his lips, but it was Glatt’s mocking voice that emerged from behind them. “Man, I liked it more when you were a little ghost bitch. You used to come to my gym actually; did some reps. Annoying accent, but damn, what a cute ass.”

Wilbur’s jaw tensed. He had enough of this.

“I’m leaving.”

With a few long strides he had reached the exit of the van. The cold, fresh night air was beckoning him; away from the smell of cigarettes and alcohol.

Then that obnoxious voice called after him again: “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Ghost-boy didn’t have the nicest things to say about you …”

Wilbur froze. His hand was on the door handle, ready to release him from this dark, stuffy room. It would be so easy to just leave; to rid himself of this headache. He did not need to stay.

“… You’re lying.”

A wide grin stretched Glatt’s thin lips – Wilbur couldn’t see it; but he could hear it in that tone of his.

“I’m the one who’s lying? No, no, no, I’m merely recounting what 'Gommy' told me.”

Wilbur turned around. Glatt’s smug smirk was even more unbearable than he had imagined.

“You know, after he was done bawling his eyes out and blubbering like a little bitch –“

Glatt’s face shifted into warped replica of Tommy’s – big shimmering eyes and a little doll like mouth quivering with exaggerated sorrow: “‘D-D-Dweam, D-Dweam, h-h-he’— Anyway, he told me that while my cabinet was having a grand old time over in Manberg, you were being very mean to him.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I-I’ve changed. I apologized!”

Tommy-Glatt let out another bellowing laugh. It cut through Wilbur like a knife through a paper door.

“You think an apology could make this better!”

Wilbur jumped back. The fake Wilbur began to move once more. With a thundering roar, his fist made contact with the fake Tommy’s temple. A loud thud; Tommy impacted with the floor of the van. But before he could get up, the fake Wilbur began kicking him in the stomach; screaming obscenities and curses.

It wasn’t Wilbur’s voice – it was so clearly Glatt’s poor imitation of his accent. With each kick, Glatt-Tommy’s eyes bulged out of his skull; not like a person, but like a grotesque cartoon. It was a farcical display.

But Wilbur – the real Wilbur – was paralyzed. His mind was clouded with memories and nightmares; fears bloated and distorted by thirteen years of isolation

“That’s not … that’s not what happened!”

Schlatt’s piercing, high-pitched cackling erupted out of Tommy’s mouth once more.

“Boy, Limbo really did a number on you!”

With a jump Glatt-Tommy was up on his feet again – his nose bloody and broken, his skin coloured black and blue; his hateful grin revealing multiple missing teeth.

“Not that you were all that together beforehand – ‘Tommy, let’s be the bad guys!’ ‘No, Wilbur don’t blow up Manberg. If you blow up Manberg, I’m gonna piss my pants—’ ‘Shut up, Tommy!’”

“I never hit him!” Wilbur’s panicked exclamation interrupted the smear show. “I never hit him!”

Glatt-Tommy shook his head; the satisfied grin not leaving his face. “That’s not what he told me! And what’s worse, when that green guy – Dream, I think his name was? – while he was using Tommy as his own personal punching bag, your ghost was off in the woods jerking off or something. And now you're calling Dream your hero!”

Wilbur felt as all colour drained from his face. The van around him began to spin; darkness and alcohol and cigarette smoke choking even the last ounce of the outside air he could smell.

“I-I …”

Slowly the façade of Tommy began to melt once more. Slowly, deliberately. A nightmarish display. Glatt’s and Tommy’s voices spoke in unison; their echo a cacophony in Wilbur’s ears.

“Face it, loverboy. You will always be a bad guy. No number of apologies will change that. He will never forgive you.”