#rendering devices is hell

[kusogitsune]

The Tametebako or Colloquially "Fuchi's Last Stand" was a no holds bar, money is no object vanity project by an unsupervised faction of Fuchi Asia. The stated goal was to make a completely unmatched bleeding edge piece of tech that could compete with the best static units while being a portable terminal replacement. Aimed at the Newly minted UltraLux CEO Segment, The Tametebako was made from rare and hard to get materials to sell it's exclusive nature; bundled with its innovative hardware and extremely powerful Otohime Assistant Software (Which Fuchi spend 10 years developing). Consequently, The Tametebako Commlink retailed at 50 000 nuyen which many consumers balked at for what was essentially an overpowered phone with an extremely intelligent chatbot. Many reviewers sledged the device for it's inability to install new applications if they weren't from approved sources. These Commlinks are now seeing second life in the collectors and hackers markets with finding the styling and theming of the phone to be charmingly retro and powerful enough to keep up with modern hardware with some QoL mods. Diehard fans report the Otohime software taking on a life of it's own after modding the hardware; her usual calm and dignified demeanor shifts around and changes during the jailbreaking process due to the random voltage pulse needed to defeat the modification lockout chip. This results in a unique iteration of the Soft on each device. SinkaSwim P2.0Net

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ in the tumbleweeds ( lando norris. )

cowboy!lando norris x city girl!reader

your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. just when you begin to lose hope, a big truck pulls up in front of you and out hops two country boys to help you get your car up and running again

authors note: in honor of me going to the austin grand prix in october, here's cowboy lando (ft. cowboy oscar)

“NO, NO, NO,” YOU HAD WHINED as your car had slowed to stop. the tiny dial on the speedometer had slowed bounced its way down, and down, and down until it had hit zero. now here you were, in your mysteriously broken down car on the side of the road! not to mention, you were in the countryside, the middle of nowhere.

all you could do was groan as you twisted the keys out of ignition, after you had smacked the horn with your palm in frustration. you could already feel the heat seeping through the window as the air conditioning had given out—as well as the entire car. 

a frown etched itself on your face, sighing as you used the parking brake—just in case as you would’ve just ended it if your car had begun rolling off after getting out to check. a huffed groan fell from your lips as you struggled with the stubborn brake, which hadn’t been used since you’d gotten the car. 

swiping a hand across your forehead at the strain, you opened the driver’s side door to step out—not before checking the road to see that the way was clear of upcoming cars. 

as soon as the door had cracked open, you could feel the blistering country heat beating down on your body. a soft whimper fell from your lips as the car door slammed shut behind you, raising an arm to cover the sun rays that hindered your sight.

you felt helpless as you turned to look at your car—you had no clue what you were doing! you were not a mechanic, and you were sure as hell not built for this type of heat. you pulled out the phone you had slipped into your back pocket, hand on your forehead as you fingered through your hair. 

your jaw clenched at the no service signal, rendering the device completely useless. just your luck to be stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service. just you and your broken down car, a few items of belonging in the trunk for your road trip.

hopelessness and panic started to sink in as you bit your cheek to hold back the tears, a hand still on your head as the other went to your hip. you circled the car in ponder—you had no clue where you were. you had no clue where the nearest repair shop was—if there even was one in this barren land. you huffed as you looked at the desert surrounding you—an impeccable view you do admit—with tall mountains in the distance and sparse cacti—and to your surprise, a lone tumbleweed that danced its way across the asphalt road.

your eyes followed the dead bush as it blew, somewhat bewildered at the sight since you’d never seen such in person—only in western movies you’d watch in the comfort of your apartment in the city.

your gaze from the bundle of weeds was torn away when you heard an approaching car from further down the road—actually, you had heard the obscenely loud and blaring country music from the vehicle before the wheels of the car against the road. your brows furrowed on your face as you glanced with squinted eyes at the approaching truck. an uneasy feeling bubbled in your tummy and you felt your hair standing on end at the sight of the big, intimidating truck that was getting closer and closer.

you swallowed thickly as you watched the truck pull off the road right after where you stood in front of your—much smaller and noticeably cleaner—car that looked massively out of place in the dusty surroundings. the music that disrupted the silence was cut-off as the keys were ripped out of the ignition, now met with tranquility as the air around settled.

it wasn’t long after that two guys had opened their respective doors, stepping out of the tall, dirtied, scraped truck. their boots scuffed against the tiny pebbles that littered the asphalt as they slammed the doors shut once again. 

you eyed the pair—but it was the driver who initially caught your eye. with dirtied cowboy boots, tight jeans that hugged his thighs and were speckled with dirt, a button-down shirt with a few too many undone—enough to show off his tanned and toned chest—a dusting of facial hair on his face, and curls peeking out from the cowboy hat that sat a little too low on his head, he walked his way over. alongside him, you assumed was his friend, who wore basically the same thing, except lacking the attempt to be a piece of eye candy.

you were a little stunned as they approached—i mean what if these incredibly attractive and muscled cowboys tried to kill you? it's not like you’d mind, they were hot enough to get away with it, but you just had to trust they wouldn’t—that they had the best intentions at heart.

you watched as the driver had taken the toothpick from between his teeth in between his index and middle fingers, his voice coming out gruffly with a heavy accent, “howdy, li’l lady,” he tapped his hat with a finger in greeting, seemingly too lazy to tip it off after a long days work, “wha’s wrong wit’ y’car?”

you watched his eyes dance between your face—and appearance—and back to your car, which appeared to be fine, but they had seen you standing on the side of the road.

you hummed, pursing your lips as you scratched the back of your head nervously while glancing back at your ride, “uh…” you stuttered slightly, letting out a breathless, nervous chuckle as you grimaced at your inability to get your words out, “it just stopped working.”

“well, tha’s no good,” he mumbled, a smirk on his face as he listened to your smooth voice, another nod to the fact you were not from around these parts, “mind if me and my buddy, oscar, here take a look, ma’am?” 

he threw a thumb in his friend’s direction, who was much paler in comparison, an eye squinted because of the sun as he stood awkwardly with his arms crossed against his chest.

you breathed a sigh of relief, saving you the pain of having to ask for his help—making him go out of his way if he didn’t offer to begin with. you nod, “please, if it's not too much of a hassle for you-”

he waved his hand dismissively, “nonsense, ‘s no problem to help out a pretty girl such as yerself,” he ignored the eye roll from his buddy beside him, nodding his head in gesture to the front of your car, “pop the hood f’me, would ya?”

you nodded quickly with a hum in response to tell him you heard him as you quickly did just that. you opened the car door, another noise surpassing your lips at the heat that had already accumulated in the car. the fact it was humid was just the cherry on top to make you even more miserable. nonetheless, you shook your head and dismissed the heat. Instead, you had done what the country boy had asked—after oscar had leaned against your open passenger side window to tell you how because you had never needed to before. 

a breathless thanks falling from your lips earned a small smile from him, tilting his head in acknowledgement as you once again stepped out from the car. you walked to the front of the car, hands on your hips and eyes squinted as you felt the sweat drip down your face.

you turned your body away from the sun, watching intently as lando had rolled up the sleeves of his button-up, revealing sweat-dirtied skin and veins from hard, strained work. you eyed his hands—already messy from the day's work they had done—and he had noticed, but he decided to not comment on it so soon.

part of you felt bad—they had probably just got done doing laborious tasks in the blistering, country heat and now you were making—they offered—them help you get your car up and running again.

you heard a hum fall from his lips as he settled his sleeves at his elbows, “le’s take a look ‘ere,” he mumbled to himself, taking the gloves that hung out of his back pocket and slipping them on to protect himself from the heated engine. a tinge of disappointment ran through your body at the fact he was covering up his hands, but there was plenty more of him to stare at—what?

you mentally shook your head—you just met the guy! he could probably—he did—see that you were checking him out head to toe. the way his biceps clearly filled out that button-up, the outline of his chest against the loose fitting torso of the fabric, the way the blue denim hugged his thighs just perfectly and fell loose below his knees, the bunched fabric at his elbows, the toothpick bitten between his teeth that slightly indented his bottom lip. you had to force yourself to peel your eyes away from the poor guy before you got lost in the way the sweat dripped down his neck.

his forearms leaned against the front of your car as he hunched over the engine, his gloved hands working through all the possible problems. every now and then, he swiped the back of his hand across his forehead to rid his face of the sweat.

you watched as his friend hovered beside him, offering enlightening suggestions to what could be wrong-

“aha!” his small celebration cut through the silence as your gaze once again settled on him, watching as he stood up, stretching an arm across his chest and his neck to the side briefly, “i see wha’s the problem.”

you looked to him with widened eyes, finding his gaze already on you as you swallowed nervously, “can it be fixed?” you asked, your voice sounding smaller than you would’ve liked—i mean the possibility of you getting out of here relied on the men in front of you.

“no, yeah, ‘ll be able to fix ‘er up in no time, but…” he shook his head, shutting the hood back as he leaned forward on his hands as they rested on the car, “ ‘ll hafta come back t’morrow, y’know.”

you nodded in sullen understanding—even though, no, you didn’t know—you sighed at the thought of sleeping in your hot, humid, broken car on the side of the road for the night, in the middle of nowhere.

oscar piped up, uncrossing his arms to lift his hands as he spoke, “actually, i might have a few tools-”

lando patted his hand against oscar’s chest, chuckling as he shook his head, “don't listen to ‘im ‘ere, he don’t know what he’s sayin’! must be the heat gettin’ to that empty head of ‘is! y’know wha tha’s like, yeah?”

you hum in confused agreement, your lips pulling into a straight line as you nod slowly, “uh, yeah… sure.”

he chuckles breathlessly, raising a hand towards you that says ‘see, you get it.’ “musta forgot we left them tools back at ‘r house!” he shakes his head as his empty chuckles die down, ignoring the glaring side eye from his friend, “now won't you give us a minute ‘ere, li’l lady.” he flashes a smile before grabbing a fist full of oscar’s shirt, hauling him off to the side of the road as they stand off in the dry, dusty dirt.

you watched as they seemed to get into very passionate conversation—and listen in. it's not like they were being quiet in the first place, you couldn't help but hear the words that left their mouths in hushed whispers—though most of it was in a thicker accent than when she spoke to them directly.

“what are you sayin’?!”

“what am i sayin’? what are you sayin’?” he shakes his head with a scoff, throwing a hand back in gesture towards the car, “y’know we can fix the damn car with the tools back in ‘r truck!”

“c’mon, osc, jus’ humor me this once!”

“yer bein’ an idiot, off yer rocker or sumthin’” he shakes his head with his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother as his boot taps against the ground, “yer hopeless.”

lando ignored the last comments from oscar as he walked back towards where you stood as he peeled the gloves from his hands, shoving them into his back pocket once again. he stood before you with his thumbs through his belt loops, looking down at you as he spoke.

he sniffled quietly, his nose scrunching, “we’ll give ya a ride to the next town over, missy,” he nodded his head once, his index finger swiping away the sweat over his top lip.

but before you can respond—tell them that it’s okay, you can sleep in the car—he makes a disapproving noise as he looks towards the sun. your gaze follows his, furrowing your brows as you don't seem to notice what he does.

he shakes his head, inhaling through his teeth, “actually, ‘s gettin’ dark out, darlin’,” he said slowly, gauging your thoughts by the way you react, “next town’s probably quieting down right about now.”

“oh,” you say simply, “well, that's alright, i can just sleep in my car, i guess.”

he dismisses your suggestion, “no need for that, missy. we can set you up at ‘r place?” he offers, an eyebrow raised at the suggestion, sensing the hesitation in your expression and body language.

you shook your head rapidly—they had already took the time to even look at the problem with your car, but now taking up space in their house? you felt like you were being greedy now.

“no, i don’t want to intrude!” you try to decline politely, waving your hands dismissively in front of you, “besides you’ve already helped plenty by even offering to fix my car.”

he chuckles, shaking his head in return, his curls bouncing slightly, “ ‘s no biggie. take yer in ‘r truck,” he nods towards the scuffed up vehicle behind him, “set ya up in ‘r guest room all nice and cozy, have yer car fixed before you even wake up. how’s tha’ sound, darlin’?”

you bite your lip as he looks at you, brow still raised in the question of ‘will you come with us?’ and how can you refuse the nice country boys, with their funny accents and silly words, who just want to get you on your way?

you nod reluctantly—it's not like you didn’t want to go with them, but you still felt like you were being a bit of a leech, “yeah, okay, if it's not too much of a hassle-”

“atta girl!” he smacks a hand down on your shoulder, almost too eagerly as he guides your path towards the passenger side of his beat-up truck. you tense under his hand, glancing back at the car with a frown.

“well, hold on now, lando,” oscar calls out, shaking his head as he mutters something about the eagerness of the man, “she might need to get a few of ‘er things from ‘er car! practically kidnappin’ her with how fast yer tryin’ to stuff her inside!”

lando tsk’s his tongue, pointing a finger in agreement at oscar’s words, “ah, suppose yer right,” he reluctantly drops your hand from your shoulder to let you back to your car. 

you awkwardly shuffle your way to the trunk of your car, acutely aware of their heavy gazes—especially as they studied you.yYou knew they knew you weren’t from around here, that you were not used to being in the weeds as they were and it heated up your cheeks to be so out of place and awkward next to them.

you quickly fill your hands with a small blanket and a change of clothes for the next day before shutting the trunk again, locking the car behind you as you walk back to lando’s side. his hand goes to the small of your back as he convinces you to ride shotgun next to him.

oscar opens his mouth to protest, his hand raised as he’s about to speak when lando feverishly waved his hand next to his neck—cut it out, osc! he could practically hear in his thoughts.

after he had gotten you settled into his car, he handed you his keys to give it a start—it's okay, climb over the center console and put yer foot on the brake to get ‘er started! don't want ya to burn up now!

once again, he grabbed a fist of oscar’s shirt as he tugged him to the side again, glancing back towards the truck as you settled in the seat after starting the car.

“mate, i know what yer doin’,” he spoke in an exasperated tone of disapproval as he too gazed back at the truck.

lando sighed, clambering a hand on his shoulder and massaging the muscle—weirdly enough for oscar to shrug it off with a grimace look of disgust. lando rolls his eyes, his hand falling back down to his side as he huffs out a sigh, “look, i told you-”

“i get it, she’s a pretty thing, but ‘s unnecessary,” he tells him, raising his brows with his head tilted down, “you should’ve jus’ fixed ‘er car and sent ‘er on ‘er way.”

he sniffles, swiping the back of his dirty hand across his nose, “if you don’t want ‘er back at the house, i understand, osc…”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that i don’t want ‘er in ‘r house, i mean she seems like a nice girl, but-” he cuts himself off, pursing his lips as he closes with eyes with a big sigh before looking at lando seriously, “listen, i just don’t want you takin’ advantage of ‘er.”

“y’know me, osc, and you know i won’t.”

“yeah, but that was before i saw you lay yer eyes on her, and saw them bug out of yer damn head.”

“shut up.” he grumbled, rolling his eyes with the shake of his head as he walked back around to the driver’s side door, watching poor oscar who was forced into the backseat of the car because of you—the pretty little thing in their front passenger seat.

the drive back was awkward to say the least. silence hung in the air, the only sound was the heavy hum of the car and the scrape of the tires on the asphalt. you tried to keep your eyes forward, ignoring the man beside you who drove with a single hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. whenever you’d glanced over, you could see the paled skin of his knuckles from his hard grasp on the wheel.

you had to forcibly peel your eyes away from the sight of his hands​​—his dusty sleeves still rolled up to his elbows, which exposed the smeared dirt across his tanned skin from his outside work. you couldn’t see, but a smirk etched its way onto his lips, his thumb swiping across his lips as if to wipe it away before you or oscar would notice.

the truck jostled to the side a bit as the road changed to rough gravel, hearing the crunch under the weight of the car. the house—that you assumed belonged to the two guys—came into view.

your eyes scanned the land—plenty of trees surrounded the property with a few animals here and there, a red barn further back near the edge of the forest, and the house itself. 

you didn't know what to expect when the thought of their house had first crossed your mind—but it hadn’t been too far from what you were seeing. the house looked quaint—a single story with a wrap-around patio, another vehicle parked up outside a good distance away from a red, wood dog house that had a water bowl next to it.

as lando pulled up to the house, parked up next to the other car, he killed the engine before getting out. you swiftly followed by unbuckling your seatbelt as you reached for the door handle, but you were beaten to it by the poor backseat dweller.

you gave him a soft smile—which he returned—muttering a ‘thanks’ as you took the hand he offered as he guided you down from the tall truck. he gave you a nod, dropping your hand as he shut the door behind you before looking over at lando, whose jaw was noticeably clenched. all oscar did was roll his eyes and begin to show you around the property, inviting you into their cozy country home.

lando quickly found himself by your side, gently taking your belongings from your arms with a friendly smile as he interrupted oscar, “ill get you set up in ‘r guest room,” he offered, taking great care in holding your precious belongings, “osc, why don't you go show ‘er them barn cats in the meantime.”

he watched the way your eyes lit up, failing to realize that the smile on his face grew bigger at your reaction—he enjoyed the way the tension slowly filtered from your stance at the thought of seeing some cute cats.

the air had begun to cool now, they had finally finished naming off all the little critters that lived on their property and were now taking you back to their main house for a bite to eat before hitting the hay. you would’ve denied being hungry if it weren’t for your tummy grumbling for nearly ten minutes.

you would’ve denied being hungry if it weren’t for the smell of a nice, home cooked meal that made your mouth water and your tummy growl even most incessantly. it was by far the best meal you had ever eaten in your life, and you started to relax and loosen up a bit more in their presence.

so now you were all sitting around on the couches, one was worn leather and the other some frayed corduroy fabric with several different patches sewn onto it. oscar had his head leaned against the backrest of the leather couch, his cowboy hat over his face and arms over his chest that moved with every soft inhale and exhale. in one of his hands, tucked in his elbow was a green, half drunk beer bottle that was still cold as the condensation dripped down the side.

lando, on the other hand, had taken his spot in the old recliner, a beer also in hand as he sipped causally, eyes glued to the old tv—it still had antennas and you were perplexed on how it still worked. still, you watched whatever old movie lando had claimed was the best movie that had ever existed—it was older than you.

it was late in the evening, the sound of cicadas and other loud insects chirping away as the sun had finally fallen from the sky, painting the sky a dark black with speckled stars. you were confused at first as to why lando had ushered you out onto the porch so late at night, but once you glanced up to the nice sky, it had all made sense.

a view like this was never available to you in the city, but here and now, it was. away from all the light pollution and tall buildings of the city, you stood under the porch, leaning against the white railing in awe at the unfiltered night sky.

lando had smiled at your mumbles, countless words of how pretty, gorgeous and striking the view was, how lucky he was to be able to see this from where they stood. you shook your head in disbelief, “‘s so pretty,” you had mumbled breathlessly, turning your head to find that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

he leaned next to you, a beer still in hand—no doubt it wasn’t his first of the night. your arms barely grazed each other, the fabric of his long sleeve against your bare arm sent tingles over your body.

“sure is,” he whispered back, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he glanced appreciatively over the features of your face before tilting his beer bottle towards you. all you did was smile, feeling the heat rush to your face at his incentive—that you were his best view. you hesitantly took the bottle in your hand, swooshing around the liquid before taking a sip.

he chuckled as your face contorted in a grimace, taking the bottle back from you as he watched your reaction with deep enjoyment, “not a fan, eh?” he teased before taking a sip himself.

“definitely not,” you cough out once you managed to get it swallowed, smacking your lips as you still feel the taste on your tongue, “never had been before.”

his brows raised at your admission, “is that so?” he hums, nodding as he looks back over the property, “so what do ya drink?”

you hum, taking a moment to consider before listing off a few fruity cocktails that you had tried during your club outings. you watched the look of confusion come over his face, the sight making you giggle.

“wha’the hell is tha?” he questions, his voice raised an octave.

all you can do is shake your head and laugh as you nudge his shoulder, promising him, “i’ll have to take you to the city someday.”

“yeah, sure ya will.”

instead of responding, you just rolled your eyes and fixed your gaze back at the awe-striking view. you stood contently for a long time before lando had to force you inside to finally get some rest after a long day, muttering promises that your car would be fixed before first light tomorrow.

cock-a-doodle-do!

when the sound reached your ears, you slipped in consciousness, confusion and disbelief as you sat up in the wood-framed bed. you groaned, your shoulders hunched and hair heavily disheveled. you would’ve slept longer if it were for the rooster that had loudly crowed at the crack of dawn. you had hardly believed that it was something that roosters actually do—you were a bit naive. 

you rolled back in bed, shoving a pillow over your head to block out the sounds of incessant crowing until you had fallen back into a light sleep—stupid chicken.

and when you awoke again a couple hours later with a knock to the guest room door, you stirred. again you sat up, groaned at the forceful waking, but this time you stayed up as you called out for whoever knocked to come in.

the door creaked open, and there was oscar, a smile on his slightly sunburned face, as per usual, talking about how there’s some food left over that you can heat up. though, not all the words make it to your sleep-fogged brain so you just hum and nod, adjusting to the bright sun slipping through the curtains.

you sighed when you realized that by now, your car was probably fixed, that this was the last yummy meal cooked by these nice—and strangely attractive—country boys. surprisingly, you felt your heart ache at the thought of leaving. they had been so nice to you, inviting you into their home with nothing, but care and generosity.

but of course, leaving had come all too soon as you were driven back to where your car had broken down—oscar suffering in the backseat after being forced once again to sit back there. being lead to your car with small talk as it sunk in that the pretty little lady who’s car they fixed was now going on her way.

they stood either side of your car, oscar on the passenger side and lando on the driver's side. you had the door propped open, starting the car with a smile on your face, but it quickly turned sad.

as you closed the car door, you rolled down the window to look up at lando as he stood closer, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at you. you held out an arm to which he leaned over, allowing you to wrap in around him, his arm snaking around your back. he lightly patted it after a few moments, relishing in the affection before inevitably pulling away.

“thank you again, mr.—” you paused, realizing you hadn’t gotten as acquainted to learn their full names, suddenly feeling a bit red in the face as you blanked.

all lando did was smirk as he leaned against your car door, arm over the window as he bent down to eye level with you. his other hand snaked its way up to the hat that sat atop his head. he revealed the dark curls beneath as he lifted it from his head, situating it on yours the best he could—it wasn’t as secure of a fit on your head compared to his. “norris,” he finished the sentence for you, now holding out his hand for you to shake—which you do—“lando norris. it was nice to meeting ya, darlin’, see ya around.”

—

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proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[namelessgakusei]

EP. 2.3 Amen.

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread. Slightly canon divergent.

EP. 2.2 And deliver us from evil (prev.)

EP 3.1 This is how you shoot (cont.)

Synopsis: The black haired lady got ahold of his amulet.

It was like time had stopped for a moment.

Her eyes locked into yours and you swore you never saw anyone as beautiful as her. Black hair with heterochromia, you wonder if she'll be more pretty if she doesn't scowl at you like that, but you can see the appeal. What really took your attention is the insignia she wears.

DARKCOM.

A rifle being chucked at her direction is what snapped you out of your trance. The mysterious woman moved with precision, avoiding the weapons thrown by Dante and your bullets, using the men around as shields while planting small devices as she went around the room. Something's wrong.

The sight of her donning a hood and revealing a button made you spin towards the beeping machines. An ear splitting sound came after they detonated, immobilizing you and Dante as you writhe and clutched your heads in pain. Seeing her chance, the lady aimed a gun at your direction, but Dante pushed you to the side as it fired.

But her aim wasn't either of you, it was the pendant that hangs around his neck.

The necklace hangs at wall, secured by the hook before it recoiled back towards the woman. Dante was too late to snatch it back as he staggered in pain towards her, reaching out in pain. "Hey...!"

But the woman casually threw a smoke bomb, hindering his progress further as she disappeared in the night.

It seems like the further she went the weaker the shrilling sound becomes, enabling you to finally move and stand up. "Of course the goon squad was a misdirect." You heard the edge from Dante's voice, before his steps slowly came closer to your line of sight.

"Up we go." His arms snaked under your armpits and hoisted you up in the air, a little too high that your feet are dangling, before laughing at your pained expression. "Man, you look waste—"

You kicked him on the knee for that.

Meanwhile, Enzo was squealing and giggling over that woman. You groaned. You were right to renounce that bastard his right as your adoptive father.

This is one hell of a night. You were glad you got to even it out with Arnie, but now another foreign variable came and ruined your plans. And it seems like Dante's sharing your sentiments, as he makes his way to a table where your briefcase sits at and procures two guns.

"I don't care who she is. She hurt my family, and I made a promise." He glares as he makes his way back to you, handing you your equipment.

"And I'm gonna keep it."

The two of you jumped into the night.

Above the rooftops ran three individuals, one clad in red, one in white and one in a strange uniform. You and Dante took both sides surrounding the woman, each having your own agendas in the pursuit. One for his mother's memento, and the other to settle a score.

Once you cornered her, however, her boots lighted up and flung her into the air, spinning to aim weapons at the both of you. You managed to shoot one of her boots, rendering it broken, and Dante shot her cheek; but one her bullets was tampered with, exploding upon in contact with his skin.

"Dante!" You cried out and shot her remaining boot, but the lady gracefully turned and did a somersault to land on her feet safely.

"I've watched you fight." The lady dusts herself and produces another one of those devices she used earlier, throwing it in the air. You're not a fool, so you shot it the moment it flew; but this isn't like the earlier mechanism, it's a bolo that activated at your attack, flying in your direction and immobilizing you. Dante tried to run to your air upon getting his bearings but he was shot once again, with his shoulder exploded this time. "(Y/N)!"

"Then I wondered, how the fuck can a guy take that much damage and come out unscathed?" The lady sauntered over Dante's kneeling form, his hand over his shoulder as the wound heals itself. "A really awesome one?" He quipped in pain.

"Or not a person at all." She grabbed his neck. "It was an anti-demon bullet that I hit you with."

You hold pride in your flexibility.

"Since it exploded on contact, no matter how you try to hide it, it means..."

The kind that makes Enzo sick when you casually bend your limbs to escape restraints.

His shirt was ripped, exposing his chest. But the usual pulsing, protruding, purple chest cavity that demons usually have is missing from him, confusing the lady.

"You're a demon...?"

Dante stood up with a raised brow, confused about the lady's actions but shrugged nonetheless. "Ripped and irresistible dreamboat, I know."

"Still can't just tear a guy's clothes off."

"Now's not the time for fucking jokes, Dante." You hollered from your position on the ground, a few feet away from them, while writhing like a worm to get out of your restraints—

But the lady wasn't fazed by the joke, nor when Dante freed himself from her grip, still shocked that her hypothesis wasn't true. "You're not a demon. But your blood..."

—Dante pouted at your response, then smirked upon thinking of a comeback, wiggling his brows suggestively at your direction. "Hey, I'd let you rip out my clothes too, y'know."

The lady gasped and stepped back. "I've heard it was possible. I never thought I'd see one, though. A part demon—"

"...Not the time!" You cried in embarrassment and struck the lady on her temple with your briefcase, breaking skin and temporarily knocking her out. Dante took this chance to slice her gun in half before she could shoot it again.

Seeing her disadvantage, the lady fled, jumping through roofs and walls with you two hot on her trail. Grabbing onto a downspout, she slid to the roof below while shooting at the both of you with her remaining gun, but it wasn't enough. Dante ran through walls and parried her bullets while you jumped from the roof and shot at her while falling, managing to break the pipe, which also sent her plummeting with you. "Dante!" You called, and he came, jumping to catch you first before the lady.

Smoke and debris filled the air as the pipe fell to another roof. Dante held the lady by her wrists and pushed her to the wall, looking furious. "Seriously? Part demon?"

"If you knew how many of those I've killed, you'd know how crazy that sounds."

"Demons kill their own all the time." She retorted, mirroring his scowl. "Humans do too." You cut in, an arm over your waist while you held your briefcase with the other.

"How else can you explain what your partner is capable of?" She sneered at you. "He even fights like one, Unholy strength but no intelligence and all, or do you not live up to your reputation?"

That set you off. You take pride in everything you do, your plans, the way you fight, your abilities. You never lose, because you always think too far ahead. There isn't any information or person on Earth that you can't find in less than three days, but she's taunting you that you don't even know anything about your partner? You didn't dig anything out of respect! How dare she belittle Dante like that?! She doesn't know shi—

"That's it, I'm killing her." You snarled and dropped your bag to the ground, already cocking a gun and pointing at her head. Dante held out his arm to stop you, maintaining his glare at her. "You're too chatty for someone who's caught, and since we're getting so personal..." He reached out for his pendant behind her back, "What does everyone want with my mom's necklace?"

"You two don't even know what this really is, do you?" She smirked, breaking the thin ice she was in Dante's patience. "I know that's it's mine!"

"All yours, Hellblood."

She kicked him in the face and used the temporary distraction to break the illusion surrounding the "pendant" that went flying from Dante's grasp. It's a grenade. The sight made him run to you to shield you from the explosion, giving the lady the opportunity to escape with the real accessory.

The lady landed safely on the ground and procured the real necklace inside her uniform, before fleeing to an alley.

You coughed at the smoke, with Dante's arms securing you to his chest. The bomb was enough to tear more of his clothes, but not strong enough to destroy the buildings around you. Needless to say, both of you are livid at the situation.

With matching grins, Dante carried you as he jumped from roof to roof and onto the alley the lady ran to. It's nearly a dead end, with no sight of her anywhere.

A door creaked behind you.

Dante was too enthusiastic to kick it down, with you opting to stay on a safe distance outside. It... wasn't the usual interior of a building? There's monitors and is that a cell...?

It's a trap.

"Dante—" Someone kicked the air out of your lungs as you barreled forward, stumbling on Dante's arms. It's the lady.

Suddenly, a door comes closing from above, separating you from her, before getting filled with sleeping gas. "Usually, we don't bother taking members of your species prisoner." A potent one, at that, as you immediately felt the effects in mere seconds. "But we do have the tech for it." The lady shrugged and smirked, activating a button which made something shoot up at Dante's neck. He groaned at the forced slumber, clutching the area where he was pierced, with the skin already healing.

"An insurance. Just in case you managed to get out of the truck." A chip had attached itself within his veins, a bomb that will go off under certain circumstances.

"What truck...?" You mumbled before slumping to the ground.

Another door opens and a faint sound of a motor starting up is heard. Across the vehicle, just where you came from, stood the six members of DARKCOM's Elite Force.

"Who caught who now, motherfuckers?"

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie @flwerie

[nowimjustastranger]

StCMO Lore | Part 2

I changed Watchdog Ford's motivation for going into the multiverse and I think this narrative is far more fitting, with the added benefit of being angsty as all hell.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Stanford Pines began his obsessive search for a solution soon after, determined to undo what had been done. But Death could not be reversed, nor could it be threatened or bribed. So Stanley Pines remained in Death’s tender embrace and, in his growing desperation, Stanford Pines began to explore other means of getting his brother back.

He left no stone unturned and eventually stumbled across the multiverse theory. A theory which suggests that our universe is not the only one, and that there may be countless other universes existing alongside it, each potentially with its own laws of physics and properties, essentially creating a "multiverse" where our universe is just one part of a much larger cosmic structure.

An idea began to form.

After getting his first PhD in evolutionary biology, Stanford Pines immediately pursued a degree in physics. In the meantime, Fiddleford found a job and bought an apartment near campus so he could look after Ford, who had begun to neglect both his health and hygiene in favor of pouring all his time and attention into turning his idea into reality.

When Stanford graduated early yet again, they moved to Gravity Falls together, where the barrier between Dimensions was weaker, and began to build a portal that could tear a hole between the two. Fiddleford was reluctant, suspecting that Stanford’s intentions were far from innocent or scientific in nature. But Stanford would do it with or without him, so Fiddleford assisted in order to keep him from working himself to death.

Ford also had a side project that he had started working on in college, his premonitions and sensitivity to changes in the universe leading him to experiment with harnessing those frequencies and applying them to his ability to see glimpses of the future in an unconscious state, increasing their strength with an amplifier so he could see into the future whenever and wherever he pleased.

He very nearly rendered himself braindead on multiple occasions.

When Fiddleford found out about Project Prescience, by quite literally walking in on one of Stanford’s tests, he aided Stanford in repurposing a biker helmet in order to implant the amplifier and external neural connectors into the frame. Once activated with a press of a discrete button on the side of the helmet, the system amplified Stanford’s premonitions to visions of future pathways.

Refining the tech takes Stanford and Fiddleford four years, but it’s ready by the time the portal is finished. They test it before Stanford gears up to go through, successfully entering the multiverse in an alternate dimension identical to his own except Gravity Fall was never founded. He stands in the middle of a forest where the Shack would’ve been, using the built-in communication device in his helmet to keep Fiddleford updated.

Stanford returns to his dimension and they shut down the portal, working on a way to shield their dimension from outside forces. Stanford designs a strong spell using unicorn hair to erect a barrier around their dimension, as well as performing a ritual on himself so he can come and go from his dimension as he pleases.

Also, Stanford convinces Fiddleford to build the memory gun by arguing that he could remain anonymous by using it on anyone who discovered his true identity. Unfortunately, Stanford intends to go behind Fiddleford’s back and use it to steal a Stanley from another Dimension. The memory gun still has an addictive quality, but only when it's used on the same person several times, but Stanford usually only has to use it on someone once.

[kagamisatelier]

❤️ Drew Mita from MiSide for this year's first illustration, lol. I watched the full gameplay recently (I'm broke as hell ok) and LOVED the storyline and the visuals!!! Also, I got a new tablet recently, one with an actual stylus, so I figured it'd be perfect to test out my device by drawing her.

Y'all I swear I literally felt like Sonic while drawing. Could feel myself ascending to another level 💀 My productivity and pace increased a TON, like, I rendered the hair AND clothes in one day. EXCUSE ME, I'VE NEVER BEEN THAT FAST BEFORE??? Bye bye, my tiny ass phone! I won't miss the days where I got neck and wrist pain from drawing with my finger on a 6 inch screen all day.

[bananafire11]

What’s your favorite Piece of art you’ve ever made and why

(😺Genuinely curious)

It is impossible for me to narrow it down to one drawing so i've picked a few out. Old art warning

ARTISTIC NUDITY AHEAD.

^ even now im rlly proud of this one. This is over a year old, but i think the simpleness of the piece makes it very impactful

^ my first full piece on my new ipad(Which isnt new anymore but it was then)! This was my first time using a reliable pen and a device that wasnt laggy as all hell

^ still rlly proud of the posing on this one as well as all the smokey effects. This was my gateway to using tools more. Can u tell what my fav color is /silly

^ this one was a very out of the blue decision to try a background. Its not amazing but i remember being sooo proud of the glass shards and the characters themselves

^ my first artfight attack for last year!!! This was for my awesome friend @visarray because i wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. She was and still is a big inspiration for me, so ofc i had to hit her hardest (it's tradition /silly)

^ this was me going CRAZY with the watercolor brush. I also had fun with all the colors, a more monochromatic piece. Oh, and it's Daryl. I don't draw him much anymore :[

^ mooore painting! Im very happy with the glossy sheen on this one, and i was also testing out new brushes. This is my oc, Moonstone. I need to revisit her

^ its the boooy. I had a lot of fun with the background on this one, as well as the coloring in general. Played with filters a lot

^ first time trying artistic nudity! The pose and overall anatomy is something im still very proud of, as well as the colors and background. It itches my brain and was a fuck ton of fun to draw. Character belongs to Demonieux on instagram

^ and last but not least, this one. I saw the idea on twitter and ran with it, im rlly happy with the rendering and pose as well as the doodles in the background

[incorrecthatchetfield]

Prof. Hidgens: Ted a word with you real quick. This morning I returned to my lab to find you and your brother had destroyed my new invention!

Ted: Yeah, Pete wanted to leave a note but I was all like "He'll know it was us." Look I am sorry and understand if you're mad.

Prof. Hidgens: I am very mad but also concerned.

Ted: Why? Emma got blasted by it and was fine.

Prof. Hidgens: You see when Emma was hit, the device was sent at two. You guys were blasted at four . . . hundred. At that energy level there's no telling what could have happened. You guys could have been sent to another dimension or traveled through time. Hell it could have rendered you two invisible.

*Ted licks his finger and lifts it to Hidgen's ear*

Prof. Hidgens: You're not invisible.

[bee-sidebranch]

Trying to find a better way for me to use my traditional inking in my pieces, i can't be bothered to go through the hell that is scanning the images and running them through three different devices via cable.

I'm not happy with how the piece turned out but tbf i barely rendered it.

the characters with the * do not belong to me

*1 belongs to Ohmanit

*2 belongs to PrismSoup

*3 belongs to druidshollow

[heartthumpnovel]

Jason Gets Sued. [April Fools]

CW: Lots of swearing. Everything had been almost perfect for Jason Anderson.

Once he’d been revealed to the world at large and he hadn’t been thrown into some government facility for the rest of his life. Hell, he even managed to smooth things over with Natasha and she seemed completely fine with the whole giant thing. Things seemed to be falling into their place and maybe, the curse could be bearable. 

Just one thing; a rather thick folder that contained scathing court summons was shoved into his hands when he dared to go out for a morning coffee.

“Wh-what do you mean I’m being sued!?” balked Jason as he shot up from his chair, sending his americano over the edge of the table, staring bug-eyed at the cop who handed him the papers who just carelessly shrugged at him. 

“Look man I’m just the messenger,” the cop said as he turned to walk away with a doughnut shoved in his mouth, “Your court date is tomorrow, don’t be late.” “W-wait but I didn't…” Jason wasn’t allowed to finish as the officer just disappeared into the sidewalk. Left to his own devices, Jason looked back down at the bridge envelope that had been stuffed to its limit. He gingerly picked it up and fiddled with the clasp, surely there’d had been a misunderstanding of some sort. Nobody would have enough gall to sue him? A giant? Right?

Right? He pulled open the cover page of the summons that had been carelessly tossed his way, his eyes swallowing every word. At first he didn’t quite understand what the situation this case was referring to; he’d shown the utmost care to not stepping on anybody’s personal vehicle, especially since the minivan incident… Oh. It had seemed the old woman whose car had gotten smashed from a mix of his inebriation from one glass of wine and a brand new super-power he’d had no idea about, had just found out who’d been responsible for it. Jason gripped the paper as he slouched back down into his chair. Eyes glazed over after reading the cost of the damages.

He needed a lawyer ASAP.

~~~

“Please rise,” The bailiff spoke to the crowded and lively courtroom, “The Court of King County, Civil Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Wallace Wens-Leedail presiding.”

The judge, who seemed to be having a fantastic time drifting into space, snapped out of whatever thought he was batting around in his brain and dropped the mallet. “Ah? Oh- yes! Ahem,” he said, “Everyone but the jury may be seated. Bailiff, would you do me a favour and swear in the jury?”

Jason, shaking like a leaf from all the eyes glued onto him, did his best to sit down without toppling the chair over. He wasn’t even tall at the moment but good god he found it hard to not be clumsy from the stress closing in on him. He couldn’t erase that haunting glare the older woman had given him when they first came into the courthouse. Thoughts of just getting up and making a run for it were tempting, though it seemed like his lawyer had just about read his mind.

“Wipe that guilty look off of your face Anderson,” Paula Bonhomme bluntly said as she was busy looking at her nails, “That’s not going to help us win this case is it?” He was lucky to find a lawyer on short notice, though his pickings were definitely slim. What he was left with was someone with a slick haircut, tacky suit, and a very loose definition of ethics. Though to be frank, she was better than no one he’d supposed.

“I know Miss, but- agh!” Jason tried to speak, though was silenced by a jab to his toes. The lawyer put a finger on her lips as a reminder to let her do all the talking. “Please raise your right hand,” The bailiff said towards the jury, “Do you solemnly swear that you will truly listen to this case and render a true verdict and a fair sentence as to this defendant?” He was met with several nods and ‘I do’s. “You may be seated.” Bailiff finished, returning to their place beside the judge.

“Alright members of the jury! Today your duty is going to be deciding whether or not Mr. Anderson here is guilty or innocent wait hold on that’s not right… Oh! if he owes money to the prosecution! Which is based only on facts and evidence provided in this case,” the judge rambled before speaking to the Bailiff with a tone as though he was asking how his day went, “Alright George, what is today’s case?” With a woeful sigh, the bailiff lamented, “Today’s case is Howard vs Anderson your honour.” “Okie dokie, is the prosecution ready?” The judge chirped.

“Yes, your honour,” the nicely suited man spoke as he stood before the court, seemingly unperturbed by the boiling older woman behind him. 

“Oh goodie! Is the defense ready?” The Judge turned to look at the defendant with his head hitting the table and his defense lawyer pulling herself up from leaning in her chair. “Yeah, I guess so your honor.”

~~~

“Your honor, members of the jury, my name is Dillon Dodman and my co-council and I are representing Marva Howard,” The prosecutor spoke at the stand, “We intend to prove that Jason Anderson is not only solely responsible for destroying her 1994 Hayashi Iliad and must pay damages in full.”

Just like that, the lawyer stepped off of the podium. To Jason, he seemed to actually be doing things by the book and was the most normal person involved. It’s a shame that he was the one trying to convict him. He looked over at his lawyer, who was flipping through a document and chewing down on a stick of nicotine gum. Jason cleared his throat when the long pause in the courtroom became unbearable.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Said Paula just about too loudly as she stood up and sauntered to the podium. “Right your honor, name’s Paula Bonhomme and I’m here to rebuke all these claims against my client, Jason Anderson,” Paula spoke rather confidently to the court while still smacking on the gum in her mouth, “Sooo yeah, he’s not guilty.” And just like that, she stepped off the podium and returned to his side. Jason tried to keep a straight face through whatever that was, though he found it difficult. He could hear snickering from the court’s audience behind them and he wanted to do nothing but just sink into the floor. He once again, covered his face with his fingers and prayed to whoever was listening in that he’d love to have the ability to shrink to the size of an atom right then. 

He was brought out of the void of despair by a not-so-subtle shove on the shoulder, Jason looked back up and noticed the woman who he’d had wrong all the time ago was standing at the podium. While he didn’t get the best look at her way back when, he certainly remembered her tears and her curly grey hair being pushed up by a hairpin. Oddly enough she was dressed in all funeral black and for once, was not giving him a death glare, only wiping her tears with a handkerchief as she was questioned by her lawyer.

“Please state your name for the court,” said Dodman as he nodded gently to her.

“Marva Howard sir…” she mumbled, sniffing as she put her handkerchief into her front pocket.

“Alright Marva, when you walked out to your car on the morning of November 6th at around 8:20 AM,” Said Dillon Dodman as he paced around the court floor, “You found your vehicle to have suffered from severe damage, am I correct?”

“Y-yes sir,” She responded, “My poor little Betty was MURDERED at night! All crumpled up like a stepped-on BUG!”

“Al-alright Ma’am let’s settle down now…” The judge spoke meekly  as if he wasn’t the authority in charge.

“Ahem, well… Ms. Howard,” The lawyer continued his questions despite the outburst, “I would like to bring up this photo from discovery.” He then gestured at the people manning the television that had been sitting in the corner of the room. In one moment, it displayed the carnage of what was left of the vehicle during that fateful day. “Can you confirm that the wreckage of the car in this image belongs to you?” The layer asked over the gasps of the crowd. The woman responded with a sharp wail and nodded furiously, “YES! THAT IS GORE OF MY COMFORT CAR!” Tears poured forth, if she was playing up the act to get the judge to agree with her, she was doing a phenomenal performance. Even Jason was on the brink of just admitting he did it and doing everything he could to make things right.

That thought was quickly revised as the lawyer asked about the approximate costs of the damages she had to pay out of pocket for when her insurance didn’t cover the expenses. 

“O-oh it was quite expensive,” the woman said, “I-I would need about fifty thousand dollars to get a replacement, and for my therapy bills… ”

All of a sudden, he didn’t feel quite as guilty. Jason didn’t even think he had that much amount of money all at once and he had considered himself very frugal. Surely this has to be an overestimate she had made up to-

"You're not the only one who came up with such a number. If you refer to these, your honor," the lawyer said as he dramatically handed a folder to the judge, "A quote from Miss Howard's car dealership, her mechanic, and bills from her therapist's office."

In turn, the judge fumbled with the papers and his eyes widened. “Oh oh crumbs, these look rather nasty,” he mumbled a bit too loud for comfort.

“Thank you, Your Honor, no further questions,” her lawyer stated, turning to give a smirk at Paula. In retribution, Paula rolled her eyes as she stood up as it was her turn to start asking questions. “Hey lady,” Paula spoke in a very uncaring manner as she approached the witness stand, “What makes you think that Jason Anderson was responsible for the damage? You were not there at the time when the car was crushed, correct?” Taken aback by the audacity, the woman gasped, “Why I never!” the lady said, “You shouldn’t speak to victims of a horrific crime like that!” “Please answer the question, Howard,” Paula insisted. “I-I mean I wasn’t there when it happened, but who else could have-” 

“Didn’t ask for names to blame lady, just that you weren’t there at the alleged crime and can’t say for sure if Mr. Anderson was there that night.” Paula said, pointing a finger at the lady’s face before turning around on her heels. “That’ll be all your honor,” she stated as she went to sit back down. “Right uh- uhm you- you may step down,” the judge said as he scratched his bald head in confusion.

Unfortunately, the internal cringe was not yet over for Jason. “Prosecution, you may call your second witness!” the judge declared. The prosecution turned to look Jason right in the eyes with a small smirk on his face. “Thank you, your Honor, I call to the stand Jason Anderson himself,” Dodman said. Fantastic. 

Before he got up, a hand pushed on his shoulder and he heard his lawyer whisper in his ear; “Whatever you do, keep your head down and don’t look at the pews, got that?” Paula whispered before she sat back down.

Jason didn’t even get the chance to question her, even if she wasn’t exactly the defender he wanted, she was all that he had. Following the order of the court, he dragged his feet to the stand while keeping his gaze to his shaking hands, which were trying to embrace each other for comfort.

“Goodie, now George could you do us a favour and swear him in?” the judge asked the bailiff who seemed to share Jason’s feelings at that moment.

“Ugh, please raise your right hand,” the Bailiff prompted Jason, who had followed the request, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” “I-I do sir,” Jason mumbled out, “Nothing but the truth.” After what felt like forever, Jason finally took his eyes off of his hands and towards the prosecuting lawyer who had snapped his fingers in his face. With an unnaturally calm demeanor, Dodman asked, “Could you please state your name for the court?” 

“J-Jason Anderson.” He spoke as if he was going to choke on his own words, his mind just trying to keep itself stable. He wasn’t even into the actual examination part yet and his vision was already getting clouded.

The lawyer, knowing his distress or not, went on a head with the examination as planned. He raised a remote in his hand and changed the tv’s screen to display a rideshare report.

“On the night of November 5th, at 7:35pm, you were being driven home from a work party and were dropped off at the corner of 5th Ave and Harrison Street. Would that be correct?” Dodman asked while pointing at the report, showing that Jason had been kicked out of the car for ‘making the driver feel unsafe’. While Jason didn’t quite remember that night, he was lucky he could recall a few snippets and piece together stories from his friends. Though what he did manage to remember was that he didn’t intend on making the driver feel unsafe, it was just unfortunate timing as his fried brain was remembering how sweet Natasha was for calling a ride for him. That being said, this report was definitely painting him in a very bad light without context.

“I-I mean I think I was kicked out of the rideshare car at some point in the night yes,” Jason clarified, “But just for the record; I didn’t mean to frighten the poor driver! I think my heart was racing and...” “So you can confirm that you were also growing taller during that evening then?” the lawyer intercepted Jason.

“I-I uh...” Jason croaked, his face ran pale as he saw Paula shaking her head with a death glare, mouthing the words ‘shut the fuck up’. Though he couldn’t exactly lie on the stand right?  “Well uhm, possibly? I actually can’t really recall much from that evening to be honest…” Jason confessed.

“Interesting,” Dobson said as he clicked on the remote again, the TV this time showed the destroyed remains of the car with a wider angle. “Jason, were you wearing oxford shoes on the night of the incident?” “Uh, yes?” Jason answered with his head tilted, confused why on earth that had to be relevant to the case.

“To be more specific, were they Cole Haan men's hawthorne plain toe oxfords size eight?”

“Regrettably yes,” Jason sighed, “Those were my nicest ones- wait hold on, why is my choice of footwear at all relevant to this?” “Mister Anderson,” the bailiff said, “You are not the one who needs to be asking questions right now.”

“Oh- sorry,” Jason murmured.

“It was not a bad question Mr. Anderson,” Dodman continued as he pointed at the wreckage at the car in the photo, “Do your oxfords match the shape of the damage done to the car?”

“Of course not, I lost my shoe before I stepped on-” Jason gasped and tried to close his mouth, but it was already too late. The court went silent just like the ocean pulling back before a tsunami hit.

“You BASTARD!” screeched Marva. Tears ruined her mascara and the only thing that kept her hands away from Jason’s throat was her counsel holding her back. Talk erupted in the courthouse hall and the only thing that managed to quell the chaos was the judge’s hammer hitting the podium. “ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT PLEASE!” the judge called out, letting the conversations in the room patter out until it was quiet once again, despite the prosecution team trying to calm down an unconsolable Marva. The judge frowned, “Res ipsa doozy, innit?” he said as he turned to Dodman, “Is there anything else the prosecution would like to ask before the defense can cross-examine him?”

Dodman grinned like a cat catching the canary, “Thank you, Your Honor, no further questions.”

If Jason wasn’t shaking before, he was now buckling at the knees. It was a miracle he didn’t pass out there and then. He couldn’t even believe himself that he’d let a confession slip. Wasn’t he supposed to be good at not letting other people take a peek inside his head? Perhaps being an obvious giant for so long had ruined his ability to white lie out of trouble. Now everyone knew how much of an irresponsible monster he really is and he was going to be in debt for the entirety of his life. He was going to have to work overtime, if he wasn’t fired for this first. Worse yet; he might have to take up on Motor’s suggestion on starring in fetish content to pay it off.

Tears clouded his vision as they dropped onto the witness stand, the horror was seeping in and he just felt like maybe the risk of being arrested for running away from his court hearing might be worth it. “Pst!” Jason jerked his head up to see Paula right in front of him, whispering, “Do not fucking elaborate if you want me to get you out of this.”

Being as frightened as he is, he just nodded his head. He felt something soft being pushed into his hand. Jason looked down and saw it was a tissue that she had shoved his way. Before he could thank her for the gesture, Paula was already on the move. “Alright, Mr. Anderson,” she began to ask her questions with a hand in her pocket, “Could you tell the court exactly how your heart condition operates?” And she really did ask him to not elaborate on that? She truly wasn’t going to make this easy for him is she? “W-well, Everytime my heart races with love I get taller.” Jason answered, completely unsure where she could be going with this. “Interesting,” Paula spoke, taking out the folder she had been flipping through, “Before you took the rideshare home, can you personally recall anything that had transpired?” “Well I-, Ahem,” Jason caught himself as he whipped away his tears, “I do not remember.”

“Absolutely nothing?” Paula reiterated. “Erm, no, well actually… Uh… Mostly not.” 

“Could it be due to the lighting strike you have suffered from according to these doctor evaluations for the injury you sustained at Walnut Acres Golf Course?” Paula asked, pulling out the paperwork before and handed copies to Jason, the judge and jury. “Yes, that did happen to me that night ma’am.”

“And did you have this growth ailment before the lighting?” “Definitely not.”

“When were you made aware of your unnatural heart condition?” “The day after.”

With that, Paula turned to the Judge with a certain nod, “Thanks, Your Honor, no further questions.”

~~~

“That was surely a long and eye opening witness examination wasn’t it?” the Judge declared, “Now that both the prosecution and the defense have now rested their cases, The attorneys will now present their final arguments, Prosecution, you may begin.”

Dodman stood from the prosecution table and began to speak with full confidence, “Thank you, Your Honor, Members of the jury, today you have heard testimony about today’s case involving Miss Howard’s 1994 Hayashi Iliad being totaled by the accused, I would like to remind you of some important information that you should consider in your decision; Jason Anderson had been at the scene the night of the crime, the evidence proving that it was a foot fall that caused the damages, and that Anderson himself confessed to the act.”

He then gave a very polite smile, which didn’t exactly match the gravity of the words he spoke, “Please find the defendant, Jason Anderson guilty of criminal negligence and have him reimburse all damages and costs that Marva Howard had to pay for.”

This was the end of the line.

Jason didn’t even bother moving hands away from his eyes, it was completely over for him. Though in the end he did have to take responsibility for his actions even if he couldn’t help it. Prepared for the worst, Jason just waited for the jury to indict him.

“Your Honor, And Jury, my client Mr. Anderson is not at fault here,” his lawyer’s voice confidently spoke. He nearly got whiplash when he shot up to stare bug bugged at Paula, who was now standing in front of the judge. No sign of worry was upon her face and her poise had straightened.

“According to the documents, Mr. Anderson was not in a sound state of mind that night due to the injury he had suffered not even a half hour before the incident allegedly took place,” Paula stated as her fiery gaze locked onto the jury, “He was in a diminished capacity, there’s no rationalizing what happened as being of his own volition! Not only that, but there’s another thing to consider; his sudden growth was inexplicable, unforeseeable, and completely out of his control.” Paula glared at the prosecution table. “You can’t expect an average human being, let alone one that got his brains fried by a lightning strike, to figure out how to be a hundred feet tall all of the sudden ‘cause of an act of God!”

She then turned around and pointed at Jason, who at this point was gobsmacked by the sudden competency of his lawyer, “The evidence against this man is circumstantial at best, he couldn’t have been in a sound state of mind, and the cause of harm was outside of his control. Jury, please find the defendant, Jason Anderson, not guilty of these charges, thank you.”

~~~

After the grueling thirty minutes, the jury had started filing into the courtroom after they went to deliberate his verdict. Everyone stood for the jury’s decision, though Jason needed a bit of help from his lawyer as he was trembling like a newborn fawn. Jason wasn’t too sure what to feel anymore after all that. While his lawyer did have a point, would that actually be enough to dismiss the case? Would he have even deserved to be let off scot free?

“Well then, have you all reached a verdict?” the judge asked the foreperson, who stood among the others. “We have, Your Honor,” they responded.

“What will it be then?” the judge asked in anticipation.

Jason closed his eyes. Despite it all, he was still so, so terrified of what his future was going to be. Never did he even consider this was going to be a possibility when he became acquainted with his curse. It wasn’t like giants had any legal precedent before since they didn’t exist. The horrifying thought of this happening to some unlucky sod and having an unforgiving precedent set because of him? Even if he ends up being the only person in the world that can grow taller than a skyscraper, will society be against him at every single stop because of this? He didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was-

“We find the defendant not guilty of criminal negligence.” Jason opened his eyes.

“Wh-what?” he spoke, wondering if he misheard them. “WWHHAAAAAT!?” Ms. Howard screeched.

“Ah I see, thank you Jury for your service,” the judge nodded, “It seems that you’re off the hook Mr. Anderson! Court is adjourned.” The room became alight with conversation and there was a few cheers from the crowd behind him. Jason looked over at his lawyer who had started packing up as if she just didn’t save his life. When his body finally caught up to his racing mind, Jason grabbed one of her hands and shook it furiously with a wide smile. “I should have never doubted you!” Jason explained, “Thank you so much Ma’am! I’ll never forget this!” “Eh,” Paula said as she let him shake her hand, “Just doing my job, who you really should be thanking is your friends for helping me collect evidence.” “LET’S FUCKING GO!!!” Cheered with a very familiar, annoying voice.

For the first time since he entered, he finally took a look at the crowd that formed within the courthouse. It was very cramped due to how high stakes this trail was, though through all the faces he couldn't make out, Jason saw Motor fist pumping in the air, Ellie crying from happiness, and… Natasha shoving her way towards the defence table with her arms outstretched to him.

Thu-thump.

In an instant, the cheers from the court room turned into screams as Jason’s head suddenly hit the lights of the courthouse and his backside broke the tiled floor when he was forced backwards from the hit to the head. However, his legs caused the most damage as the witness stand and judge podium were crushed with heels slamming into them. They’d almost hit the judge himself if it weren’t for the fact the bailiff had tackled him out of the way. It was almost a miracle no one got crushed and severely injured. People fled the scene through the emergency exits and the only people inside that courtroom was the Judge, Jason and the security surrounding him. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- I… I’m so sorry!” Jason tried to beg.

“Sorry won't fix the damages caused to the courtroom!” The Judge yelled, looking to the security guard to the Court Security Officer to his left, “Do you reckon we have handcuffs big enough?” “No-no wait I know I- NO PLEASE I’M SORRY I-”

~~~

“Pst!” Ellie hissed in his ear, “Wake up sleepy head!”

Suddenly, Jason wasn’t about to be arrested in a courtroom anymore. In fact, he’d been resting his head on a keyboard at his office job. He jolted upright, realizing that he’d been spamming ‘Zs’ in an important financial document he’d been working on. Of course he was dreaming, he’d been having awful sleep since he got that pesky curse. Jason felt stupid for really believing that he’d actually come out to Natasha and the world about his ‘little’ problem.  Upon hearing a chuckle from Ellie, he huffed and straightened his glasses back to their proper place on his nose.

“Gods,” Ellie said as she swooped back to her own cubicle, “And I thought I was bad.”

[mister-a-z-fell]

After some questions about my ‘true’ form and whether or not I have a thousand eyes and a veritable farmyard of creatures emerging from my collar, I have decided to show you this record of an encounter between myself and a certain writer at the latter end of the Elizabethan period. I remember the event slightly differently, but I suppose one has to make room for artistic licence.

I’m assured that if you click ‘keep reading’, the full transcript will appear.

To assist you, I’ve added a glossary at the end.

And no, Crowley, this still doesn’t count as having wheels.

“This is an true accounting of mine own eyes, set down by mine hand this tenth night of September, in the yeare of Our Lord sixteen hundred and one. They will say I am gone mad, for such visions belong to those who dwell in Beth’lem Monastery, but I swear on all that is precious to me, this se’nnight past I saw an Angel.

I was but newly set out from the towne, and some light yet remained to guide my path, when I looked to the east and saw of a sudden a second dawn. T’was no earthly fire; Aye, I warrant you, I am not bestraught! My father spoke, in Harry’s day, of the great conflagration of Edinburgh. He told me that Hell had claimed the sky, for all above was a fury dress’d in crimson and wretched with soot. But here was nothing of red.

I have seen it since in dreams and will, I ken enow, see it as I draw my final breath. Hasten the day.

It was akin to a man. I gleaned as much in those moments when I looked upon it, ere it saw me and my wits fled me. But also unlike a man, for where a man has but one pair of hands were there some severall, and where a man has flesh and bone was there flame. Such pale fire have I never seen but I should think it alchymy, and mine eyes were indeed ensorceled, for I saw colours without name, and things too marvellous and awful to relate. I will. I must. This labour’d span is raised to worthy work, knowing the glory that awaits. But oh, I am affraid. I pray my sins have not snatched the cup from my lips.

This fearful apparition stood upon the hill, and the white fire that was its crown was with the thin night clouds commingled. Its face — no. Of that no more, yet. I cannot. All about was compassed in armillary radiances which turned one within another, the forme entire and every hand with pearlie lustre enwheeled.

Below, the flames of Tuscalonian hue that formed a body for the Presence were so and so girded with armour: bright fragments, the whole twixt corslet and grand guard, matched with cushes; all of nacreous stuff and lapis-ensigil’d but for one place high ‘pon the rightmost thighpiece where the intricate device was marred and running gold in place of gore.

What can wound an Angel? I think on this and tremble as the very earth trembled where it stood, ague-shooke by a low’ring thunder.

I have held golden angels in my palm and have seen them in holy glass and in base iron gaulle, with doves’ wings upon their shoulders. Foh, we are God’s own fools. Its wings were the clouds pierced by stormlight, dark upon light upon dark, and where they moved was printed a world beyond my understanding, witnest through a furnace shimmer.

I saw a flock of stars draw close around it, and it seemed to dote upon them and cosset them as a hunter with his favourite hounds, and I would there have fainted all away an if I had not been fixed in terror. For they were not specks and embers laid distant upon the sky, a sailor’s comfort and guide, but each and each an inferno pluck’d from Heaven; baleful sentinels from which no secret could be hidden. Such fell lights would render trivial the earthly fires of Nebuchadnezzar.

Words are meat and drink to me, yet do I tell this so poorly I should be ‘shamed and nevermore lift a goose-pen. Still, ‘tis no matter for who shall read it? When all is said, I’ll put these lines away and think on them no more. In telling will I win myself a little peace.

Wheretofore had I been silent, so now instantly did I weep, and laugh, and cry out for God’s mercy, and it looked upon me. Od's-me, it turned its Phoebean eyes on me and I saw its face. Above the gleaming corselet had that most blessed igenieur placed a maske of fine, unblemish’d parchment, in th’ likeness of a gentle visage, before the sainted flame. Troth, a kindely lanthorne of such boundlesse compassion that I fell upon my knees and made to crawl into the fire, sooner to know its forgiuenesse. Then did it smile, as no painted visor could, and all my knotted thoughts were ravel’d out and I was at once a babe, a foole, unfolded and sanctuarized. Under this soft and clement regard I swounded, onely to wake in my lodgings, ‘tired, but not tyred, my travells lost beyond recover.”

Glossary:

Beth’lem Monastery — Bishopgate hospital that would later become the notorious ‘Bedlam’.

se’nnight — seven nights — a week

warrant — assure/promise

bestraught — mad

Harry — another name for Henry — in this case Henry VIII

ere — until

ensorceled — enchanted

commingled — mixed with

compassed — surrounded by

armillary — resembling concentric rings set at angles

pearlie lustre — a pearl-like glow

enwheeled — encircled (shush, Crowley)

Tuscalonian — pale straw-yellow

girded — armoured

twixt — between

corslet — armour covering the upper body

grand guard — armour protecting the heart and left shoulder

cushes — armour for the thighs

nacreous stuff — resembling mother-of-pearl

lapis-ensigil’d — decorated in blue

intricate device — complicated symbol

ague-shooke — shivering, as with a sickness

low’ring — threatening/ominous

golden angels — gold coins stamped with the likeness of Michael defeating Lucifer

holy glass — church windows

iron gaulle — ink

Foh — an exclamation of disgust

cosset — fuss over

an if — if

goose-pen — a quill

Wheretofore — while until now

instantly — at the same time

Od's-me — an exclamation: ‘God save me’

Phoebean — relating to Phoebus/the sun

blessed igenieur — The creator

visage — face

Troth — an exclamation: ‘indeed’

lanthorne — lantern

painted visor — an immobile mask

ravel’d out — unwound

unfolded — exposed

sanctuarized — protected/sheltered

clement — forgiving

swounded — fainted

‘tired, but not tyred — a pun: ‘tired (attired) meaning dressed, tyred meaning weary

recover — remember

Addendum:

I’ve been asked to provide a translation for the Latin community. My grasp of Elizabethan Spanish would, I fear, let me down, so this is couched in modern terms…

Este es un relato verdadero de lo que vi, escrito por mi mano esta décima noche de septiembre, en el año de Nuestro Señor mil seiscientos uno. Dirán que me he vuelto loco, pues tales visiones pertenecen a los que viven en el Monasterio de Beth'lem, pero juro por todo lo que me es precioso, que la semana pasada vi a un Ángel.

Hacía poco que había salido de la ciudad, y aún quedaba algo de luz para guiar mi camino, cuando miré hacia el este y de repente vi un segundo amanecer. No era fuego terrestre; ¡te juro que no estoy loco! Mi padre hablaba, en tiempos de Harry, del gran incendio de Edimburgo. Me dijo que el infierno había reclamado el cielo, pues todo lo alto era una furia vestida de carmesí y desdichada por el hollín. Pero aquí no había rojo.

Desde entonces lo he visto en sueños y estoy seguro de que lo veré cuando exhale mi último aliento. Ojalá sea pronto.

Era como un hombre. Me di cuenta de ello en el breve momento en que lo miré, hasta que me vio y perdí la razón. Pero también era distinto de un hombre, porque donde un hombre tiene un solo par de manos había varias, y donde un hombre tiene carne y hueso había llamas. Nunca he visto fuego pálido como éste, a menos que fuera hecho por alquimia, y mis ojos estaban realmente encantados, porque vi colores sin nombre, y cosas demasiado maravillosas y horribles para relatarlas. Lo haré. Debo hacerlo. Esta vida dura merece la pena, sabiendo la gloria que aguarda después de la muerte. Pero tengo miedo. Rezo para que mis pecados no me hayan arrebatado la copa de los labios.

Esta temible aparición se alzaba sobre la colina, y el fuego blanco que la coronaba se enredaba con las delgadas nubes nocturnas. Su rostro... no. Aún no puedo hablar de ello. Todo estaba rodeado de ruedas de luz que giraban unas dentro de otras, y toda su forma y cada una de sus manos estaban rodeadas de un resplandor nacarado.

Debajo, las llamas de color amarillo pálido que formaban el cuerpo de la Presencia estaban cubiertas por piezas de armadura: fragmentos brillantes que, todos juntos, formaban una coraza, y una armadura para las piernas; parecían de nácar cubiertas de símbolos azules brillantes, excepto en un lugar en lo alto del muslo derecho, donde los adornos estaban dañados y sangraban oro.

¿Qué puede herir a un ángel? Pienso en esto y tiemblo como tiembla la tierra donde estaba, sacudida por truenos ominosos.

He tenido ángeles de oro (monedas) en la palma de mi mano y los he visto en vidrio sagrado y en tinta simple, con alas de paloma sobre sus hombros. Buaj, somos los propios tontos de Dios. Sus alas eran las nubes atravesadas por la luz de la tormenta, oscuridad sobre luz sobre oscuridad, y donde se movían vi un mundo más allá de mi entendimiento, presenciado a través de un resplandor como de horno.

Vi una bandada de estrellas acercarse a su alrededor, y parecía adorarlas y mimarlas como un cazador a sus sabuesos favoritos, y me habría desmayado si no me hubiera quedado helado de terror. Porque no eran motas y ascuas lejanas en el cielo, consuelo y guía de un marinero, sino cada una un infierno arrancado del Cielo; torvos centinelas a los que no se podía ocultar ningún secreto. Luces tan terribles harían que los fuegos terrenales de Nabucodonosor parecieran triviales.

Las palabras son carne y bebida para mí, pero estoy contando esto tan mal que debería avergonzarme y no volver a levantar una pluma. Aun así, no importa porque ¿quién lo leerá? Cuando termine, guardaré este escrito y no pensaré en él. Contando esto me ganaré un poco de paz.

Había estado en silencio, pero ahora lloré, y reí, y supliqué la misericordia de Dios, y el ángel me miró. mSobre la coraza reluciente El Creador había colocado una máscara de pergamino fino y sin mancha que parecía un rostro amable, frente al fuego sagrado. De hecho, era una linterna bondadosa de una compasión tan ilimitada que caí de rodillas e intenté arrastrarme hasta el fuego, para poder sentir su perdón. Entonces sonrió (como nunca podría hacerlo una máscara), y todos mis confusos pensamientos se desenredaron y me sentí simultáneamente un bebé, un tonto, expuesto y protegido. Bajo esta atención suave e indulgente me desmayé, sólo para despertar en mi alojamiento, vestido, pero no cansado, incapaz de recordar cómo había llegado hasta allí.

[stellae-de-baphometis]

hello!! could you share any information or experiences you have with Glasya-Labolas? thank you!!

Hi there! I’d be more than happy to share info and personal experiences on Count/President Glasya-Labolas. ^.^

I’m actually currently working on a digital zine that compiles extensive grimoire lore on the Goetian daemons (which I plan to publish on my Ko-fi and make available to everyone free of charge), so I’d be more than happy to copy and paste Glasya-Labolas’s entry from my zine draft here and share it with you. :) Here’s his entry from my zine draft:

The twenty-fifth Daemon is called Glasya-Labolas, also known as Caacrinolaas, Caassimolar, Glasya Labolas, Gloolas, Ozia, Carmola, Glosialobolas, Glassialabolas, Classyalabolas, Glasyalabolas, and Glolas. He is ranked as an Earl/Count and President of Hell, but is also ranked as a King and Prince in other grimoires.

He appears in the form of a dog with the wings of a gryphon, but when taking human shape, he appears as an old man riding upon an elephant.

He is the author of bloodshed and manslaughter, and teaches all arts and sciences, including the liberal arts. He can tell one of all regarding the past, present, and to come. He grants the understanding of birds, as well as the trapping of thieves and murderers, and can render one invisible. He also enkindles love between people, and can procure the love and favour of friends and enemies, as well as provide insight into their affairs. He speaks the truth on all things, and can carry one swiftly from one place to another.

I've also included his grimoire entries, which I will list below with links to their sources.

Side Note: Some of these sources are in PDF form, so they may automatically be downloaded to your device upon opening the link.

. 🦴 ~ Grimoire Entries ~ 🦴

From Crowley’s Goetia: “The Twenty-fifth Spirit is Glasya-Labolas. He is a Mighty President and Earl, and showeth himself in the form of a Dog with Wings like a Gryphon. He teacheth all Arts and Sciences in an instant, and is an Author of Bloodshed and Manslaughter. He teacheth all things Past, and to Come. If desired he causeth the love both of Friends and of Foes. He can make a Man to go Invisible. And he hath under his command 36 Legions of Spirits.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Lemegeton: “The 25th spirit is called Glasya Labolas, he is a Mighty President & showeth himself in the form of a dog with wings like a griffin; he teacheth all arts in an Instant, and is an author of Bloodshed & Manslaughter, he telleth all Things past & to come, if desired, & causeth love of friends and foes; he can make a Man go Invisible, & he hath under his rule 36 Legions of spirits.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Pseudomonarchia Daemonum: “Glasya Labolas, alias Caacrinolaas, or Caassimolar, is a great President, who cometh forth like a dog, and hath wings like a griffon, he giveth the knowledge of arts, and is the captain of all manslaughters: he understandeth things present and to come, he gaineth the minds and love of friends and foes, he maketh a man go invisible, and hath the rule of thirty-six legions.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Liber Officiorum Spirituum [Entry 1]: “Gloolas a great King or Prince, he appeareth like to a dog having wings, & he is the chief leaders of murderers, & knoweth things past present & to come, & he giveth knowledge of friends & of enemies, & maketh a man to go invisible, & so long as the caller or master will, & hath under him 20 legions.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Liber Officiorum Spirituum [Entry 2]: “The 1st is called Ozia, he can teach all manner of arts or sciences, invisibility & give favour of enemies, he can carry one from one place to another & that upon a sudden he appeareth like an old man riding an elephant.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Livre Des Esperitz: “Carmola is a great Prince who gives understanding of birds and of trapping thieves and murderers when one commands him. He makes people invisible and speaks truth of that which one asks; and has 26 legions.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Grand Grimoire: “Naberus [Nebiros], Field Marshal, or Inspector General, has the power to do evil to whomever he pleases and enables one to find the Hand of Glory and teaches the qualities of minerals, vegetables and of all of the animals, pure and impure, possesses the art of foretelling the future, being one of the best Necromancers of all of the Infernal Spirits. He can go anywhere and inspects all of the Infernal Militias and has beneath him Ayperos, Naberus [Naberius] and Glosialobolas, etc.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Dictionnaire Infernal: “Caacrinolaas, also named Caassimolar and Glasya-Labolas, high President of Hell. He presents himself in the form of a dog, and he ambles like one, with the wings of a griffin. He gives knowledge of the liberal arts, and by a bizarre contrast, he inspires murder. One says that he predicts the future very well. This demon can make a man invisible and commands thirty-six legions. The Great Grimoire calls him Classyalabolas, and makes only of him a kind of sergeant who was sometimes mounted on Nebiros or Naberus.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Book Of Ceremonial Magic: “GLASYALABOLAS, a mighty President, who comes in the form of a dog, but winged like a griffin, He teaches all arts and sciences instantaneously, incites to bloodshed, is the leader of all homicides, discerns past and future, and makes men invisible.” --- ✩Source✩

From The Offices Of Spirits [Excerpt]: “Glolas is a mighty Prince & will appear in [the] likeness of a dog having wings, & a chief leader of murderers and know the things past & things to come, and giveth knowledge of friends & enemies and make a man to go invisible & hath 20 legions of spirits.” --- ✩Source✩

Stellas Daemonum is also pretty good at compiling information on the goetian daemons, though I'd advise to read it critically as with all occult literature. Here is a link to the PDF.

. 🦴 ~ Personal Experience ~ 🦴

In terms of personal experience, I honestly haven’t worked with Count/President Glasya-Labolas in quite a long time, though I still have a little bit of experience with him, which I’d be happy to share. (He also recently visited me while I was writing this post and helped me out a little with writing it lmao.)

My first encounter with Glasya-Labolas was a couple years ago from now, I think. I felt drawn to him at the time, and took this as a sign that he may have been reaching out to me (though I don’t know for sure). So I gave him a couple of offerings and wrote a devotional prayer to him. I would also practice sigil divination with his sigil to learn more about him and connect with his energies. Here’s some basic information pertaining to both research/analysis and personal gnosis that I have on Glasya-Labolas:

☆. Personality & Energy Signature .☆

☠️ Glasya-Labolas isn’t exactly the most gentle daemon I’ve met. His energies can be a little overwhelming and quite intense; I’ve found his energies to be quite chaotic and tempestuous at times. He is assertive, strong-willed, protective, and can also be quite blunt and maybe a little harsh sometimes, but he means well at the end of the day and wants what's best for you. He also has a sarcastic sense of humour lol.

☆. Areas Of Influence .☆

🗡 Given he is said to be an “author of bloodshed and manslaughter” and can “trap thieves and murderers”, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to suggest he specialises in causing/easing conflict, bringing about endings and resolutions, and avenging those who have been wronged by others. He could also be of assistance when it comes to baneful magic, curse work, and revenge spells, or spells involving justice, vengeance, discord, courage, strength, and protection.

🖤 He can teach and assist one in divination, as he is said to “know the past, present, and to come”. He is also a daemon of social intercourse, being that he can “grant the love and favour of friends and foes”, as well as inspire love between people, and can be worked with to help you with interpersonal matters and relationships.

☁️ He is associated with travel and transportation too, and can ensure safety and efficacy in travel. He is also a daemon of knowledge, learning, and study, as he teaches the seven liberal arts, like many other daemons of the Goetia. He can also “make one go invisible” and conceal one’s doings, keeping things private and helping one to go unseen.

☆. Correspondences .☆

☀️ In terms of planetary associations, I consider him to be associated with the planets Mars (strength, courage, war, action, conflict, aggression, passion, sexuality) and Mercury (learning, communication, social intercourse, the mind, intellect, travel, intelligence).

🔥 In terms of elemental correspondences, I consider him to be associated with both fire (authority, destruction, protection, courage, strength, power, love, passion, sexuality) and air (knowledge, thought, intuition, intelligence, communication). 

🌿 As for herbs/plants, I honestly haven't further explored this; But based off some quick research, he could probably be associated with yarrow, borage, black pepper, chilli, garlic, lilac, and black nightshade? But again, I haven't explored this in depth so I'm not too sure. Make of this what you will lol.

🎨 I associate Glasya-Labolas with the colours; rose red, blood red, fiery orange, deep magenta, wine red, rich black, electric blue, electric violet, and cloud grey.

Side Note: I haven't included any gemstone/crystal correspondences as it is quite difficult to obtain gemstones ethically, and I also don't really use crystals/gemstones in my personal practice.

Here are some other correspondences: ↓ 🧭 Direction --- North (as per the Liber Officiorum Spirituum a.k.a. the Book Of Oberon) 🐺 Animals --- vultures, coyotes, hawks, falcons, dogs, elephants, owls, gryphons 🌅 Season --- Summer 🕰 Time --- Noon to dusk 💎 Metal --- Mars, Mercury/Quicksilver 🗓 Day --- Tuesday, Wednesday ✨ Incense --- Dragon's blood, cedar-wood, basil, sandal-rose

Also this is just my personal gnosis, but I believe that many daemons originate from the bastardisation and vilification of deities, spirits, and entities of other religions. I believe that if a deity/spirit is demonised enough, it can sometimes lead to that entity being "fractured", which in turn leads to that demonised "piece" of the entity breaking away and gaining complete autonomy seperate from their fountainhead. I speculate this may have been what happened with Glasya-Labolas.

From the research I've done, I have seen a lot of parallels between Glasya-Labolas and the god Ares/Mars. Their shared associations with bloodlust, war, battlelust, and civil order suggests they may be linked in some way. Additionally, Glasya-Labolas appeared as a winged dog most of the time and is sometimes associated with birds as per his Livre Des Esperitz grimoire entry; Ares is said to be associated with dogs and birds. But this is all just my unverified personal gnosis lol.

. 🦴 ~ Offering Ideas ~ 🦴

Sword/dagger imagery

Feathers (make sure they comply with your local laws and are ethically sourced)

Figurines/plushies of dogs and birds

Animal bones (make sure they are ethically sourced)

Spicy foods

Blades and other sharp objects

Herbal tea such as ginger tea

Alcohol such as whiskey

Matches

Rose petals

Lighters

Study or learn about something that interests you

Advocate for human rights and animal rights

Practice self-confidence and self-love

Show love and appreciation to those important/close to you

Travel / go on adventures

I think that's pretty much all the information I could possibly gather on Count/President Glasya-Labolas lol. I apologise for taking so long to write this btw! ;v; If you have any other questions, feel free to DM me. :) I do hope you find this post helpful, and I wish you all the best on your spiritual path. 🖤

+ . . . Divider Credit . . . +

[pixelatedtaken]

Alastor, Vox, and their Rivalry

...or the nothing it gave us

S1 Analysis

this is based on information the show's s1 gave us. this can and will most likely change once the next seasons release.

disclaimer: this is not a ship analysis. you can read it however you like, but it's not intended for ship purposes

SPOILERS AHEAD ↓

Even before Vox was introduced, it was made clear that Alastor has a... distaste for modern electronics. Even so, he seems to know how to navigate them. He's familiar with TVs and their mechanics, watching and making commercials.

So let's start with:

Radio vs. TV

By default, both represent different eras of media: the Radio and the TV.

It's a very old classical tale of old vs. new that to this day, there's debates on it. Alastor and Vox are exactly that. The debate of which is better. The old and reliable way or the new developed way. The one that doesn't appreciate the changes being made and the one who embraces it. A Radio Demon and a TV Demon.

And they are that simple old vs. new dynamic. Different but similar.

Alastor vs. Vox

Vox first gets mentioned through the title of the Vees by Sir Pentious. And even with Alastor's response, "Oh, nobody important." we're hinted at a dynamic, in this case indifference, which is mostly how Alastor tends to treat and act towards Vox. Mostly...

On the other hand, Vox is obsessed. From knowing that Alastor was gone for 7 years, the hate drawing, the 'fuck alastor' mug, the cameras, the ripped photo, you can even go as far as saying their outfits– he's not subtle about it.

As soon as Vox learns about Alastor's return, he has an overdramatic response with his nails digging into the table, voice changing, and his cameras instantly on Alastor. In general, Vox has cameras probably all over hell, but keeping an eye on Alastor is tricky when the man glitches every time he's being recorded etc, etc. This is also stated by the fact that in the 7 years Alastor had been gone, not even Vox knew where he was.

And Alastor is very aware of the fact that Vox is watching him. So aware that he even posed for the camera (you can argue all you want, he posed). Midly encouraging the behavior as such. Either by the pose or by saying that Vox needs to try harder in his endeavor.

This is where I say that Alastor is also obsessed. In a different way but not any less.

Here's a core attribute the two demons share: Attention.

They want attention, to be the center of it. And although Alastor barely, if at all, provides Vox with it... Vox certainly does provide to the fullest, and Alastor is more than happy to let it happen. With that being said, when Vox was broadcasting the tarnishing of his name, it was a different story. He went back to his tower as quickly as possible - grabbing a cup of coffee on his way - and more or less owned Vox's ass.

Speaking of the song, it's worth noting that Alastor perfectly responded to the part of the song that was never broadcasted, the beginning. It could have been for thematic purposes. It could have been that he somehow knew, the how alludes me.

Let's bring up a certain picture:

Throughout episode 2, much of their relationship was hinted and kept mostly hostile, but this picture gave a whole new meaning to it all.

Alastor, the demon that distorts devices and renders them unable to capture him on film, has a photograph taken of him without any glitches. And next to him in that photograph is none other than Vox.

Meaning:

Alastor allowed the picture to be taken.

Alastor and Vox were close.

They had formed a bond, and the closest thing we can call it, is a friendship. But between the then and the now, something broke that bond.

One thing could have been Alastor's dislike for modern technology vs. Vox's like for evolution, which could have played a role in their fallout. As such, a chain reaction of events begins to unfold.

If it was that dislike, resulting to disagreements, where it started or not, we don't know, but we do know that their relationship fell apart after Vox asked Alastor to join his team, and he refused. They became hostile towards each other, most likely beyond repair since, before Alastor disappeared, they had a fight.

We don't know how brutal the fight was, but we do have the line, "You still pissed he almost beat you that time?". Keyword: Almost. Alastor ALMOST beat Vox but decidedly did not. From Alastor's backstory, we know he's more than capable of defeating overlords without a second thought.

Here's a question: Why didn't he kill Vox?

Maybe it's for stupid reasons. Maybe it's not. Who knows, but we know that he didn't kill him and that Vox was resilient enough to not be easily beaten.

One thing is for sure, the picture re-contextualizes behaviors and actions.

Although at its core, their relationship is a rivalry, adding a possible friendship changes the initial view they gave us of them.

And I'll end it by saying that Alastor calls Vox 'old pal'. If that means something or absolutely nothing, I don't know.

BTW! Calling Alastor obsessed isn't in the same context as Vox. Alastor is obsessed with the never-ending attention while Vox is obsessed with Alastor himself. Just a clarification. Though I wonder how many people stuck this long to read, it's not like I'm saying something new here. I can't wait for all of this to be trashed and debunked somehow in the future.

[doubleddenden]

We're still technically in gen 3, but Orre is more like a Johto that actually got its chance to shine... In the Arizona desert, for some reason. It holds a special place in my heart for making me realize I *DO* still like Pokemon after SwSh really let me down. The vibes are also just super unique with its own art style and design philosophy. If we ever return there, I will be a happy little duck

but for now, let's start with Colosseum.

Wes, your only choice for an MC and quite possibly the edgiest option you'll ever get. There's not much you can do about a blank slate- there's *some* wiggle room, but Wes is unique in that he has a decently established backstory as a former member of Team Snagem- an OUTLAW- and the game opens up with him blowing up a building to steal a device that lets you steal Pokemon from trainers, then he rides off into the sunset with his weird cats and his over the top motorcycle- You can't help but love him, especially from in game dialog that sort of implies he's a terrible liar and or may not be exaggerating his appearance and aura to seem more badass.

However, don't be fooled by this Yugioh looking ass, he's a softie. He begins with TWO starters, Espeon and Umbreon, both Pokemon you can only get by friendship, and both are described as old and trusted partners of his. He has a car seat where- before Rui shows up- they both rode in it. Also he's only one of TWO MCs that actually massage their Pokemon to help increase friendship. Bro is a big ol sweetheart- evident by how he just immediately went along with Rui's idea to snag and purify Shadow Pokemon without an argument. I can't believe the devs thought he could potentially become a villain lol

Anyways, design wise, he's pretty cool. He's also implied to be older, probably of legal age given how women will flirt with him and how he's just kinda allowed to be around alcohol. Maybe a bit too noodly, which was a problem with the Orre games (it was either that or gorilla arms), but this definitely reads as a rough customer- but his outfit sort of implies that he's a self-made try hard with the added height from his boots, and his motorcycle seems to imply a custom welding job to make it louder and more badass looking- bro WANTS to be intimidating so bad. The jacket is a cool touch, and the bandage across the face, the spiked hair, and the mirrored shades definitely make him look badass. The Snag Machine, too, is just cool as hell in a Square Enix asymmetrical fashion kinda way- and in this render it almost looks semi transparent, which unfortunately doesn't translate to the game.

9/10 design imo. I wouldn't be caught DEAD wearing this, but that's why he's a main character and my 5 lookin' ass is not.

Okay, it is absolutely pathetic that I cannot find an actual render of her online beyond (really nice) fan art. You may ask why I include her at all because technically she isn't a playable character or a rival- but she is basically with us for the entire game and is the only way we see Shadow Pokemon to begin with. Wes and Rui are like peanut butter and jelly, man, they're perfect together and shouldn't be separated. She's also a character you can NAME, so I feel like that should count.

Rui is such a neat concept that I wish would kind of come back eventually- a companion character we travel with at all times, although maybe not getting in our way as much. She can SEE things- er, that being Shadow Pokemon auras, which I don't think is ever truly explained. Bummer. Regardless, Rui serves as our voice and also our concious- and is a little bossy in a girlfriend sort of way. She doesn't battle, and in fact we rescued her from getting kidnapped at the very beginning, but she's still right in the thick of everything and tells us exactly what Pokemon to snag, and yells at us if we try to snag non Shadow pokemon. BUT MIROR B. HAS THREE LUDICOLOS, HE WON'T MISS ONE... Man. I also love that she just kinda worms her way into Wes's company and maybe heart- I like an assertive girl.

Design wise, this model is the Western censored version. There's actually a version of her where she has a midriff and a slightly shorter skirt. I'm against censorship in general because I don't like the idea that we get a diet version of anything the original author intended us to get, but in this case, it's not that big of a deal and the changes are pretty minor (not 4kids level basically). Although, I would argue the original wasn't really risque enough to warrant censorship anyway- like why was that skirt not okay on a girl that's most likely legal, but Dawn got a skirt that'd show the world what colors she was rocking if she so much as sneezed?

Anyways, this isn't meant to be a rant on censorship, the outfit is kind of atrocious in a charming y2k fashion that kinda circles back to being cute, and kind of gives me Spice Girls vibes. I... have a weakness for redheads, and Rui activated some neurons when I was a kid (I named her after my crush at the time lol). The colors sort of mirror Wes's in a way, with pink and purple to contrast his orange and white to contrast his black. She's just a super cute character that just got completely erased by the sands of time (and the broom of TPC). I'm hoping for her to somehow return someday, because man, I miss her so much. 9/10, the best travel companion ever imo.

and now we move to XD Gale of Darkness

First of all, XD would have a major art style overhaul to make better use of the GameCube's graphics, which was sort of hit or miss in some places.

Michael is our only playable character, and unfortunately he IS the cute redhead you bring with you everywhere. I wouldn't say he's a COMPLETE downgrade from Wes, at least by appearance. Merit wise, he's actually stronger and has had to fight way tougher battles imo. Conceptually, he is a slight downgrade for lining up more with regular Pokemon MC sensibilities of being a teenage something that works for a professor and fights a silly evil team. Also we lose the badass franken-bike Wes had... for a scooter. Bleh.

But design wise, I think he's pretty cool. I really dig the outfit, it looks cool and comfortable, and the colors go together pretty damn well, especially with that orange accent lining throughout his entire look. The Snag Machine by itself isn't quite as cool looking as Wes's, and also ONLY works on Shadow Pokemon on a lore level- the metal on his headband actually becoming a scouter to reveal said Shadow Pokemon. That being said, it does look cool on its own, and weirdly enough it goes super well as a complete opposite to his attire. His hair is also super unique among MCs for actually being red and a non natural color for males in the franchise. The green eyes are also a nice touch. I think the pants are very comfortable looking as well, and that hip belt- while not practical- also looks pretty neat.

I do think they could have done a better job of aligning him more with either the previous game aesthetic or more with the core game proportions- at least for the face, nose, chin, neck, and eyes. But overall, I do really dig the design, as it follows the trend of Orre MCs just being absolutely their own species. Eevee his starter is also just a nice touch.

9/10 on design, 8/10 on lore.

gen 4 will be next

[all-pacas]

i've randomly been watching some doctor who these past few days and i'm not here to be like a Hater TM but holy shit does the beast below have terrible worldbuilding. like this is actively driving me insane

so all of the UK is a spaceship now. cool. no problems so far. the central conceit of the episode is that instead of a real spaceship with engines and things, the spaceship is a big building built around? on top of? a 'space whale,' which is being enslaved and tortured. the end of the plot has amy freeing the whale from enslavement, but it's really nice and doesn't destroy the UK, just keeps flying them around. this is silly, but ok. like this isn't what's driving me insane. THIS IS:

we're told it's a dystopia. there are robot dummies everywhere surveying everyone. children are killed (?) (fed to the whale) for failing classes, but only if they take elevators? like if they walk home after school they're fine - to the point that one child reminds another - but if they take the elevator they die. actually, all prisoners are fed to the whale.

however, nothing … comes of this. we don't know what the rules are of this society, how people feel about it, anything. the central mystery of the episode is what is flying the ship, not what the hell is wrong with this country. the doctor just kind of takes it for granted this is a corrupt and terrible society and everyone pretends otherwise. IN ITSELF, this is still ok. BUT:

there's a whole side thing about how spaceship UK is still pretending to be a democracy; at any time people can vote to "protest" and if 10% of the population chooses this option……we don't know. it's literally never said, just by implication, they set the whale free and everyone dies. i get that this is supposed to be a metaphor about complacency, but also: we're TOLD this is a terrible society where people are routinely imprisoned and fed to a whale. is "lol it's their own fault for being complacent" the message?

IT GETS WORSE! the doctor then meets the queen. the show gets DEEPLY pro monarchy. she's a Hero! she's Fighting to Uncover the Truth! she doesn't know about the whale either, but she's still in charge of … this police state? this thing that is called a police state? even if she doesn't know about the whale, she knows kids get executed for failing tests!! yet she's presented as really cool and kickass. she has a cape! everyone loves her! why?? she meets a random child who has been critical of the rules and just lost her friend to the whale, and… the child is pleased to see her. the super cool leader of a police state OKAY.

the doctor and amy meet the people in charge of torturing and enslaving the whale. the doctor is forced into a moral choice: he doesn't want to free the whale and kill the entire UK, but he also doesn't want the whale to keep being tortured. he chooses to render it brain dead instead. he, and the episode, make clear this is a terrible option and that there isn't a great one. this is okay. what isn't okay: the guys torturing the whale are chummy. they're polite. they like the queen, they shrug the child murder off as "surprise! the whale doesn't actually eat the children!" (it eats the adults tho!). at no point is "btw, this is a police state with tons of murder and surveillance" addressed. the doctor does not express distaste for any of these institutions. no one turns to the Cool Queen and goes "yeah, but you're okay with the murdering of prisoners and police state stuff."

amy realizes the whale is actually super nice and WANTS to pilot the UK around (and eat people sometimes… look i get it, it's a carnivore, that's fine, just raises questions for the future). she turns off the torture devices and the whale starts flying around even faster and happier, no one dies!

the doctor and amy leave, the police state still entirely intact, the Cool Queen later showing up in another episode to be cool and fun. theoretically she abdicates at the end of this episode but no, doesn't happen. (which… is fine, this isn't a cinema sins episode, keep the throne who cares, but nice to see that literally nothing changed in this society). it's still a police state that surveys and kills people and children who fail tests! they just don't have to torture a whale to do it!

this is a heartwarming and touching happy ending, amy and the doctor hug over successfully saving a whale as children continue to get murdered for being bad at math

(okay yes the whale doesn't eat them, they don't actually die. but they're shown just hanging out?? so they don't go home either?? and everyone THINKS they're dead soooooo uhhhhhh)

i kind of hate this episode i think

also MINOR QUIBBLE a bit thing in the episode is that the spaceship doesn't have engines running and there are no vibrations or machine sounds. but it's a spaceship the size of a country? they must have like. air engines? also you don't need to constantly run engines in space ANYWAY? you just kind of keep going? you only need short bursts to change direction or something, there wouldn't be constant engine rumbles ANYWAY. but this is something sci fi gets wrong constantly so whatever

[thepolysworldau]

For Tord: Hey Tord, you doing ok? The others left to do something so you're by yourself-

Yeah, I am fine. I got Tom's message after walking around the house like 5 times looking for someone. It is kind of weird, though, I am not used being home alone? Hell, last time they left me to my own devices was before...anyway--

But I should be good, I mean, we have the security system installed so if anyone even tried to get in, they would regret it. Just kind of bored at this point, I never really know what to do while in my own devices.

( you all get a lovely shirtless Tord render due to them winning the polls. Enjoy it ):< )