#virtuous contract

[all-love-now]

I got a tattoo does that make me cool yet?

[de-spawnhellspawn]

Been making a wooden replica of contract on and off for a few months. Still a WIP but it’s starting to come together.

[eudico-my-beloved]

2b doodle coz i havent drawn her in a while

[bingobongobonko]

man im tryna get out this feeling but if it dont go away thats why im absent. i feel like. man. i dont even know i am just switching emotions back and forth and frankly i should have expected the anxiety. expected. i dont feel bad about it and i will never feel bad about it and i will never sympathize with a neutral bitch. no. sorry. malicious bitch. but do i still feel nauseous yeah

[sleepynines]

Favorite quotes - NieR:Automata lore

Precious Things (translated by mintychu) / Divergent Scanner NieR Reincarnation / Cruel Blood Oath / Cruel Oath NieR Reincarnation / Virtuous Contract SINoALICE / YoRHa Boys novel / The Cage of Reincarnation NieR Reincarnation / NieR:Theatrical Orchestra Concert 12020 / NieR:Theatrical Orchestra Concert 12020 / NieR:Orchestra Concert 12018 (translated by komasanzura)

[formulawolff]

cat & mouse - s.p.

pairing: female driver!reader x red bull!sergio pérez

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of divorce, murky areas of morality, freshly divorced checo, smut, sex in a public place (oopsies!), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!), penetration (p in the v guys), creampie, cursing, allusions to infidelity (mainly checo thinking about you), mutual yearning & pining (that good shit), angst, yadayadayada

sergio was a virtuous man.

well, more like he considered himself a virtuous man.

he was a husband, a father of four children, a popular and prominent figure among his home country, and got along with just about anyone he met. he was an established driver in the world of formula one over the course of thirteen years, spending time with approximately five differing teams.

he considered himself to be kind, honest, and flexible. several qualities that you would consider to be appealing or excellent qualities.

that all changed the second you signed your contract to drive for scuderia alphatauri for the 2024 season as their second driver.

although daniel ricciardo was considering one last season of racing for the team, he opted out, pursuing a simple life of retirement from the racing world. however, he still hung around, joining various media teams for racing commentary and analysis.

actually, daniel was the one who advocated for your position within the team, presenting a lengthy powerpoint slideshow to christian horner and laurent mekies. as the latest f2 champion, daniel stated that you were the perfect candidate for the team. additionally, the press and publicity surrounding your win was nothing but positive, so it would not only bring a stream of publicity to the team, but potential sponsors.

as the first female driver for the alphatauri team, christian harbored his reservations. however, laurent was all for it, stating that as long as you proved yourself to be an asset, he would happily take you in.

and that is exactly what you did, scoring points at the first grand prix of the season in bahrain.

when you were first introduced to yuki tsunoda, he was not entirely over the moon, but he was civil enough. however, over the course of the first few weeks, the two of you got to know one another more, quickly becoming inseparable.

not only did you establish a close friendship with yuki, you were able to become more acquainted with the other drivers on the grid. a few of them had hesitations at the thought of competing with a woman, but yuki was quick to remedy that.

after calling a few of them misogynists, they quickly shaped up, becoming more friendly and encouraging over the course of the season.

yet, there was one driver in particular who caught your eye.

sergio pérez, lovingly referred to as checo by fellow drivers, the formula one community, and his team, oracle red bull racing.

sure, he was attractive with his fluffy dark hair, his radiant, bright smile, five o'clock shadow, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose.

yet, it was his demeanor that really drew you in.

he was far more reserved than the other drivers, often remaining quiet during press conferences, only speaking when directly asked a question. he was not one to hog the spotlight, as he often praised his fellow driver, max verstappen often. his comedic timing was unmatched, the punchlines of his jokes hitting exactly when they needed to.

he was thoughtful, often giving you advice when the other drivers didn't, providing you with insight that you needed. he stuck around after races, often congratulating you on your position or complimenting your qualifying time.

to you, he was the perfect man. a wonderful combination of devastatingly handsome features and great personal qualities.

there was one thing though. there's was always a catch when it came to things that were too good to be true.

he was married. happily married, at that.

and the father of four children.

the thought of pursuing a married man? shameful, tasteless, and absolutely classless.

yet, there were a few things that you were blissfully unaware of.

sergio wanted you.

actually, he yearned for you.

nearly every second of every day, his thoughts were filled of ridiculously lewd and filthy images of ruining you. pounding that pussy until you reached that peak. devouring absolutely every inch of you until you were a weeping, whimpering mess beneath him. coating your body with his cum, claiming you as his and only his.

your presence was enough to send him spiraling, his cock throbbing in his pants or suit, aching for your touch.

to him, you were an angel that happened to walk this earth, gracing everyone with your wondrous and pure light.

another thing that you were unaware of was the fact that he was divorced, signing the papers merely months ago.

he just happened to wear that band on his left finger for the sake of preserving his personal life.

which, is part of the reason why he felt so fucking guilty.

although he was a single man, he still had a family and an amicable relationship with his ex-wife. he needed to focus on maintaining those relationships rather than fantasizing about a fellow driver.

yet, he couldn't control the fantasies. they just happened to appear. you were constantly on his mind, whether he was conscious of it or not.

he could be seconds away from the finish line on the track, and the only thing he could picture was how your lips looked wrapped around his cock.

to say that he wanted you was an understatement at this point.

he craved you.

and that satisfaction of finally getting you where he wanted you?

fuck.

that was going to glorious, euphoric even.

ever since max let it slip one intoxicated evening that you mentioned having a little crush on him. he even went into detail, describing how you admitted that if you were going to fuck one driver, it would be checo. the confession only confirmed that he wasn't the only one driving himself insane over this. you were in the same boat, pining after the driver for months now.

so, he was going to have to tread lightly, though. find that perfect window of time and somehow get you alone long enough to fulfill that ravenous hunger.

almost like a game of cat and mouse.

he was the predator, poised and eager to pounce on his prey.

there were moments in which he almost had you.

like last week, when you were on your way to your motorhome, with no one beside you. no yuki or daniel, just lost in your own little world on your phone.

sergio had to fight every voice in his head screaming at him to catch up to you, ask if you wanted to go out for some drinks or some food. if things went according to plan, you would accompany him to his own place.

however, he didn't.

and fuck, did he regret that.

yet, here you were beside him, sitting so delicately on the plush cushion of the couch, flipping through a random magazine, the pages fluttering. the silence was not necessarily comfortable, but it wasn't awkward either.

which, would hopefully work in his favor.

"how do you think this weekend is going to go?"

his voice, so soft you almost didn't hear it, fills your ears. you glance up, clearing your throat as you shrug, "i'm not sure. the weather conditions aren't looking too hot. do you know where everyone is? are we too early?"

sergio's gaze falls on the clock resting a few inches above the doorframe, brows furrowing, "i'm not too sure. i thought the email said 3:00 p.m. maybe there was a typo?"

the four red bull drivers were supposed to meet with a potential new sponsor, promising a hefty sum if all went well. it was for some type of new energy drink. you didn't really pay too much attention to the email, you just happened to remember the location and time you were supposed to meet.

the meeting was located in a tiny office in the red bull paddock, tucked away in one of the corners. it was not the most brightly lit space, as there was only one overhead light. there were no windows, almost reminding you of a detention space or solitary confinement due to the lack of posters or decor on the walls.

the only places to sit were two quaint couches, along with a tiny table situated between them. you were the first one to arrive at 2:15 p.m., figuring you could just mess around on your phone. not like you had any other plans anyway.

checo was about five minutes behind you, flashing you that beautiful grin the second he noticed you were already there.

as you flip to a new page, you can't help but feel a sort of tension hanging in the air, almost clouding the two of you. he's on his phone, his knee bouncing, almost as if he was anticipating something.

but what? you weren't quite sure.

"okay," he exhales, "ican'tfuckingtakethisanymoreandsincewe'realoneithinkit'sjustbestitellyouwhati'vebeenmeaningtosayforthelastfewmonths."

the words come tumbling out of his mouth so rapidly you can barely distinguish them. tossing the magazine on the table, you turn, facing him.

"checo, what the fuck did you just say?"

he straightens his posture, leaning in so that his mouth is merely centimeters from yours, "i'm very fucking attracted to you, okay? i can't fucking think straight right now because all i can think about is fucking the shit out of you."

you blink, heat billowing into your cheeks, flourishing down your neck as he licks his lips, his eyes fixated on one thing.

your mouth.

"i-i-," you stammer, scrambling for formulate some sort of response, "i mean, i'm very flattered that you-"

"and i know your little secret," his lips curl into a smug smirk, "max told me about your crush."

"oh fuck," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "when did he-"

"it doesn't matter."

his hands envelop yours, pulling them away from your face, "i have an idea of how we can pass the time before this meeting."

"sergio, there are literally people who could walk in at any minute-"

"i know," he nods, "and that's why i locked the door after i came in."

"you're ridiculous," you roll your eyes, folding your arms across your chest, you cock your head, "how exactly are we going to pass the time then?"

"well," he begins, "i want you. you want me. there's a few things we could do."

"how about you demonstrate?"

"oh?" he tilts his head, "you want me to?"

"i do."

"that's all i need to hear princesa," he leans in, so close that the tip of his nose brushes yours, "we'll have to be quick, though."

"i'm sure you could be quick-"

his mouth crashes into yours, both hands grasping your face as he sucks the air out of your lungs, kissing you with such a fiery intensity that it left you reeling, your mind struggling to process any coherent thought.

"usually i take my time," he pulls away, nearly panting, "but i need to be inside of you."

he prompts you to lay down, hovering above you as he fumbles with the drawstrings of his sweats, your fingers hooking the hem of your leggings. you pull them down, just enough so that the fabric is bunched up around your ankles.

at the sight of you spread open beneath him, sergio nearly comes undone.

your pussy was far more perfect than any of his fantasies, glistening in the light as his fingers trace along your folds. he's breathless, deeply entranced by the way your hands wrap around his base and shaft, feeling the entirety of his length.

this was all too much. too much for his mind to process.

yet, he was fueled by that burning lust, desperate to quench that flame.

desperate for you.

he situates himself between your thighs, wetting his fingers with spit. his hand glides along his cock before pressing against your entrance. you arch your back, in a vain attempt to get closer.

the moment he's inside, your walls stretching so wonderfully to fit him, his hand covers your mouth, the driver fighting to suppress a moan himself.

picking up the pace, his hips roll, ensuring that not too much noise is made as he pounds into you, bliss rippling in his chest.

the way your head rolls back, eyes squeezing shut with pure pleasure. the way your figure was so breathtaking under him. the way your tight walls squeezed around him, nearly gripping him, coaxing him in even further.

this was heaven.

it had to be.

and fuck, if he had more time?

oh god.

sergio could feel the accumulation of pressure in his abdomen, the way the euphoria was building by the second. fuck, he wasn't even in you that long and he was already on the verge of cumming.

as flustered as he was, perhaps it would be a blessing.

after all, the clock on that wall now read 2:42 p.m.

max and yuki would be there any minute now.

"sergio," your voice is a whisper, "y-you're going to make me-"

"cum princesa," he coos, a hand reaching out to caress your gorgeous face, "cum for me. i want to feel you cum."

he can barely finish his sentence before you're tensing up, inner thighs spasming as you orgasm, your plush lips parted every so slightly.

the sight is enough to bring him over that edge, his chest heaving as he releases inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. as he pulls out, the two of you exchange a shared glance, untangling yourselves from one another.

"fuck," you suck in a breath, pulling your leggings up, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

"i am so sorry," sergio pulls up his sweats, "i can buy you a morning after pill if you-"

"we'll talk about it later," you swiftly cut him off, "sergio, you need to get the door."

"oh fuck," the realization washes over him, "right."

as he crosses over to the door, you carefully fix your hair, ensuring that there were no strands out of place. the driver glances over his shoulder, tutting.

"you don't need to fix anything. you already look insanely beautiful."

"thank you," you murmur, fighting a wide smile as his mouth places a tender kiss on your temple, "we need to look like we didn't just-"

"i'll try my best to act normal," a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, "i don't think i will be able to focus on this meeting though."

"and why's that?"

"because i just fucked the-"

that's when the door handle wiggles, max popping in his head in.

"oh hallo! i didn't know you guys were already in here! how long have you been-"

"only a few minutes," you respond, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

"okay," he shrugs, strolling over to the couch, "hey checo?"

"yeah?" the driver's head swivels towards max, his brow arched.

"why are your pants on backwards?"

[cure-icy-writes]

i think the reason i like the murderbot diaries so much is because the dystopia feels very real and relevant in a way that no other "oppressive government fearmongering" has, and because murderbot is such a compelling protagonist.

this is an autistic person who is struggling and angry and terrible at having emotions. it lives in a capitalist hellscape where people are disposable. it's traumatized as hell, but it's easier to consider itself disposable than confront the terrifying reality of personhood.

(it confronts the terrifying reality of personhood.)

it likes escaping into fiction. it has a fucked up relationship with pain and its own body. and it reads so strongly as disability coding to me, how it doesn't see the bullets or the chunks missing as horror but merely annoyance. it's fundamentally different from those around it, in ways that they struggle to understand. (they make a distinct effort to understand.)

this is an autistic person who is not like you, who suffered in ways that you cannot understand, in ways that would horrify you. this is just another tuesday.

this world is not kind. there is legal fine text that destroys lives and there is hereditary indenture and contract labor where you're forced to still pay for preventative medical care out of your paycheck and no one says slavery, but everyone knows what it means.

these people are kind. they will watch your favorite shows to help understand you, they will forge documents to give abandoned people their freedom, they will allow you to be near them because they like you. these people are proof that there's love in the world, and you can come out of your shell if you are ready to see yourself as a person.

science fiction is one of the genres that has the potential to be amazing, but is quite often just plain shitty to disabled people. and, to people in general? "oooooo look how scary it is, people have all their basic needs fulfilled by technology!" when technological advances are what gave housewives the time they needed to actually get jobs and put together the feminist movements, when this new technology that the narrative regards with such disdain could provide disabled people with newfound mobility and independence.

it speaks of a truly dismal view of humanity, the belief that without strict labor under capitalism to keep us all in line, we would just fall prey to our vices. and I think it also speaks to a loathing of one's self, to think that humans are not capable of self regulation, to think that pain and suffering and punishment are somehow moral and virtuous. that humans need to be punished constantly, that suffering will bring them closer to something like god, to something like goodness.

but murderbot doesn't do that. murderbot says, "i have seen humans do horrible awful stupid things. they can't be trusted with weapons or security and they shoot me all the time and it sucks. but they make stories and art. the people in the entertainment media gave me the tools to contextualize my own emotions. they are my coworkers. i don't care about them. i got shot in the back protecting them but i didn't care about them. okay fine maybe i care a little. they're annoying. i'll eviscerate anyone who hurts them. they're mine."

[transgenderer]

Lately I've been thinking a lot about the distinction between "ethical acts that make people feel positively towards you" and "ethical acts that don't actively make people feel positively towards you" because I feel like people in general care quite a bit about the former but are most of the time at best apathetic and at worst actively hostile towards the latter. Like...okay for example. It's definitely a good thing to like, give money to a homeless person. But I think it's unambiguously a *more good* thing to give money to an effective charity like the against malaria foundation. Because like. It helps people more. It's better for the same reason it's better to give a homeless person a dollar than a quarter.

But I think your average person cares considerably more about the former than the latter, because the former makes a person feel positively towards you and the latter doesnt. The most extreme case here is tipping. Like. Tipping at a place you'll never go again is effectively charity (I mean you could make some sort of contract ethics argument. But I don't think any of us want to be contract ethicists). But I think generally people would think you less virtuous if you switched from "guy who always tips" to "guy who calculates the tip and then donates it to AMF"

And then like. Obviously there's vegans. They fit very neatly into this

[vivacissimx]

roose bolton as a father figure to theon

the theon's disturbing relationship to paternalism beam is still shining bright. obviously the ned and balon and balon and ned Thing is happening but if we are going to embrace the horror of ADWD, let's lean all the way in.

the role of the father is molded as such to manufacture obedience from his children—generally speaking but also daughters in a specific way, sons in a specific way. filial duty is considered a virtue in westerosi society (even when your father fails to be virtuous himself) and it's the mode by which the father holds power over his children when they come of age. the father reproduces himself by claiming a son under his name & castle, the father reproduces his values by shaping behavior, the father punishes unsanctioned behavior not (merely) by criticizing the contents of the actions of the son, but by virtue of it being disobedient i.e. obedience to my instructions has within it an inherent Rightness / my instructions are Right because they are mine (circular i know!). this is probably doubled for those who follow the Faith of the Seven where the image of the father is a reflection of the Father aka disobedience flirts with blasphemy. sorry for the monologue—this is gonna be important later.

one of the reasons ned & balon come across as such supreme assholes in theon's ACOK storyline is because even outside the emotional reality of theon being a hostage from 10 years of age, he also pretty much does obey what they have to say. there is a time where he plays by their rules and they still don't approve of him or claim him fully. it's a social contract where ned and balon don't really fulfill their ends of the bargain, so it feels unfair. it feels willfully blind because ned and balon SURELY see the benefits they've accrued at theon's expense—ned lives in peacetime having experienced war, and balon keeps his life/lordship which if he were to have been executed for treason, would have all seemingly gone to a boy lord theon—yet they don't recognize the "theon's expense" part.

see how that works? "you are virtuous and right for following my commands" but theon follows their commands and doesn't get his Virtuous and Right headpats. and that rankles him deeply.

okay, now onto roose as theon's father figure in ADWD:

theon is part and parcel of roose's son ramsay. Reek belongs to Ramsay, and Ramsay belongs to Reek. in fact the original reek was a servant who roose gave to ramsay's mother as the first act of acknowledgement. it's through reek that ramsay became roose's bastard. we see that when roose demands ramsay give theon up (briefly), ramsay must oblige... hence, reek is still a form of reward/acknowledgement from roose to ramsay. theon is entangled in them and for roose to kill theon could very well be construed as killing off (ramsay as) his son

roose thanks theon for giving him the north via taking winterfell & (inadvertently) ruining robb's situation. roose is thanking theon for the ability to reproduce himself as lord of winterfell and warden of the north—a duty that a son owes his father

i wrote a post about theon's gender troubles that delves into his parallels with barbrey ryswell dustin—how roose treats them both with certain cares to insure their good behavior, and how they both see through the farce. however the difference in roose bolton's world of easy replacement (he replaces multiple wives, domeric with ramsay, reek with reek II) is that barbrey is warned of her fate via the example of bethany ryswell bolton, her sister and roose's dead wife, while theon is warned of his by the example of domeric bolton, roose's dead son.

barbrey steps into the role of domeric's caretaker and main maternal figure because her sister is dead. then ramsay kills domeric. roose allows it. barbrey puts it as: “The widow of Barrowton… and yes, if I so choose, I could be an inconvenience. Of course, Roose sees that too, so he takes care to keep me sweet.” sweet is not the best word for our barb but she plays along with roose's game despite there being no real endgame beyond a petty revenge against the starks. the writing is on the wall though. not to put too fine a point on it but: ramsay will kill any children walda frey has from roose, and barbrey will know precisely who did it

in theon's case, roose's manipulations go like this: “Serve us in this, and when Stannis is defeated we will discuss how best to restore you to your father’s seat,” his lordship had said in that soft voice of his, a voice made for lies and whispers. Theon never believed a word of it. He would dance this dance for them because he had no choice, but afterward… he will give me back to Ramsay then

roose actually tells theon the story of domeric. he describes domeric's relative capability and desire for brothers. he confesses that ramsay killed domeric and that he did nothing about it, that he fully anticipates ramsay to kill any children he has with walda. later, when theon is thinking about how roose will give theon back to ramsay, the conclusion is clear: ramsay is going to torture and abuse you, and i will do nothing—just like i will do nothing for any other sons i might have

theon co-victimhood with jeyne. does that make theon roose's sort-of daughter-in-law?

that last point was a haha joke... unless? after all, theon did canonically desire for ned to adopt him via marriage to sansa. so roose adopting him via "marriage" to ramsay, theon's use to roose being dependent on his subservience to ramsay, or more specifically, his role as legitimizing ramsay/reproducing roose in a similar way to marrying arya stark and having bolton children with her will... that is to say, haha

starks and boltons are foils, ned and roose are foils, ramsay's dogs and starkling direwolves are foils: if ned was a quasi-father figure AND simultaneously warden to theon then why would roose not be as well considering the stark/bolton relationship?

remember when i said that theon is intensely bothered by the fact that he "obeys" ned/balon but gets nothing for it? if you agree with that then consider this passage: Theon wondered if he might be allowed to fight. Then at least he might die a man’s death, sword in hand. That was a gift Ramsay would never give him, but Lord Roose might. If I beg him. I did all he asked of me, I played my part, I gave the girl away.

there's likely much more i could say here but those are a few points that i think are interesting as part of the larger discussion on theon as well as the social critique in ADWD theon POVs. i mean it really pulls the curtain back—stripped of all romanticism and in the dead of winter where nothing grows, what is a wife truly? a whore, jeyne says. what is a hostage? mine own face on their lie, not [even] a man, theon says.

what is a father? well in theon's decidedly horrifying case, it's the man who has use for you or else what's the point of you being alive

[murasakinoichigo]

2B’s monologue at the beginning of the first episode in the anime is the weapon story of Virtuous Contract.

The translation is a bit different because it’s not the same team behind it but you can see the point.

[verona2314]

Judgment of the Damned (translation) PART V

LINK PART IV

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Chapter 5: A Fair Trade ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, I just want to thank each and every one of you for your support...As always, thank you very much for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I also want to inform you that I won't be uploading chapters this weekend as I want to have some chapters ready to upload during the week. Please, feel free to leave your comments and ask questions if you wish.

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

Alastor

After his interesting conversation with Zestial, he immediately set out to resolve that small problem Carmilla was dealing with. After all, he had told the ancestral Overlord that he would take care of that matter in exchange for the information. It wouldn't take him long as he already had everything prepared and planned in advance. He appreciated efficiency and his time, so he would try to be as brief as possible.

He headed towards a building in very poor condition, where several sinners did not receive him kindly. Their first impulse was to attack until they realized his identity. They tried to flee in terror, but Alastor showed no mercy. As he took care of the "clean-up," his thoughts wandered to everything Zestial had told him. The mere possibility that those stories were true thrilled him immensely. Just imagining having in his possession a creature with the ability to modify or annul a contract caused him an indescribable sensation. It could be that backdoor he had been searching for. Who better than a judge to find weaknesses in a contract?

The screams of his victims didn't even faze him. He was so excited that he was undoubtedly going overboard, but he didn't care in the least. He needed to know more about the judge. He had to find out if she really had the abilities that Zestial had mentioned in his tale. The problem was that Victoria wasn't simply going to answer his questions, let alone reveal her cards. It was evident that the esteemed judge was cunning and wouldn't expose herself in that way. The only remaining option was to try to subtly extract the truth through seemingly innocent conversations. However, this wouldn't simplify things much either, as she seemed like a difficult person to manipulate. Furthermore, making the situation even more unfavorable for him, Victoria never trusted him.

The night had already fallen. Alastor walked over the bodies as he tried to solve this dilemma. He truly felt very eager for this challenge and was anxious to have another conversation with the judge and discover what sharp retorts she would give to his sarcastic remarks. Perhaps he could crack that mask of calmness again and see once more that expression of indignation on her face. It was gratifying to know that he had provoked that, that he, the great Alastor, had gotten on the nerves of a minor Judge. Clearly, he had used a low trick. Anyone would be annoyed if they were made to fall to the ground, so he couldn't boast much about that achievement either. Wasn't he perhaps thinking too much about her? Well... how could he not when she was his new source of amusement? A rival to respect and to keep him on his toes. It was just that. Besides, as long as no one else knew about the dear judge's existence, he would have plenty of entertainment time assured.

To his surprise, this last thought caused him a slight unease. The idea of other Overlords trying to befriend her in order to obtain information or use her abilities did not please him. Having competition would make this job much more difficult and would only succeed in making Victoria's walls rise even higher and stronger. No. He couldn't allow the news to spread, as that would completely go against his own interests. And on the other hand, Zestial would also be very pissed off if he found out that he had hidden something like that from him.

Alastor had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed he was already outside the hotel. He entered the building and came face to face with the remains of the chandelier. "I thought it had stayed firm this time," he thought to himself as he looked at the ceiling. “How could it have fallen if I made sure the chandelier could withstand twice its weight?.” 

At that moment, Alastor heard some very lively laughter coming from the hotel's new bar. Of course, he wanted to know what was the origin of such a cheerful atmosphere, so he transported himself to the door of the lounge, coming across a completely unexpected scene.

Sitting at the bar were Angeldust, Husk, and the judge, engaged in a lively conversation. Victoria laughed and responded to her interlocutors' comments in a charming and carefree manner, acting completely different from what he had seen.

"So you won't believe what the guy replied," Alastor heard Victoria say. "He said that anyone would be grateful to meet his 'little friend'."

"And what did you say?" Angeldust asked, quite interested.

"Well, what anyone would say in that situation," replied Victoria. "That with those tight pants, it was clear that what he had down there was a rather small 'little friend' and that he had proven to not be very smart, so I doubted he could use it in any way to compensate for that detail. So I politely declined his offer."

"Judge!" Angel responded, feigning shock while Husk chuckled quietly. "I never imagined you could be so sharp."

-Well," Victoria continued, shrugging her shoulders, "maybe I went a bit too far. The idea was to deflate his ego, not tear him to pieces."

"I didn't know Limbo could receive such unpleasant people," added Husk, pouring some drinks. From a distance, Alastor could notice that Victoria's smile faltered for a second, which struck him as slightly suspicious.

"Well, you know what they say," the judge replied, "there's all sorts in the Lord's vineyard."

"Judge," said Angel, "I must admit I never thought you could be so amusing. I thought you'd be a boring and strict woman. No offense."

"I can understand why," Victoria replied casually. "It's the image associated with this position. However, it would be difficult to reach people if you can't socialize and build bonds. How could I do my job of gathering information about sinners if I acted like an insufferable woman? I can be firm with my convictions and ideals and uphold the rules while being friendly at the same time. Although when I am strict, I can be quite fearsome. Or so I've been told, at least."

"You're not what I expected from someone who spends their entire existence judging the actions of humans as good or bad," Husk responded.

"There are many shades of gray," Victoria pointed out, looking at her glass. "I've learned that sometimes context does matter and other times it doesn't. That people with the same circumstances make completely different decisions, but life is full of tough choices. Hence, these ideas of 'double effect' or 'unrenounceable fear' emerge."

"I think angels wouldn't like you," murmured Angel.

"Great! That's great news," the judge responded in a celebratory tone. The trio laughed again.

Alastor listened to this conversation from afar, completely puzzled. It was hard to believe that this person was the same Victoria he had spoken to just a few hours ago. She retained her dignified aura and elegant movements, but her face displayed a variety of positive expressions while her amber eyes sparkled with wit. It seemed effortless for her to connect with people. Even Husk seemed to be in a good mood. This implied that Victoria had great social skills and empathy. How could a being from Limbo possess such qualities?

He narrowed his eyes. There was definitely something very suspicious about her. His first impulse was to try to start a conversation with the judge to get answers. He was about to take the first step towards the group when he noticed a slight detail that made him pause. She wasn't carrying the briefcase. His eyes widened. He had to take advantage of the fact that the dear judge was distracted, and without wasting any time, he teleported to her room.

Yes, it wasn't very gentlemanly to intrude without permission into a lady's room, but because of how suspicious the woman seemed, he could make an exception. He turned on the room's light and looked around. Immediately, he spotted the briefcase on the table. It was open, and around it were closed documents. "So that's what you were hiding in there," Alastor thought to himself as he approached the table. Each of the files had a label on the front with a name written on it. "These must be the documents with information about the inhabitants of Hell," he mused to himself as he saw some very interesting names. He reached out to take one of the files when suddenly, golden chains surrounded the folder while he felt the tips of his fingers burning slightly, causing a deep ache.

"Fuck!" he muttered, withdrawing his hand. How could he have underestimated the judge so much? It was obvious that she wouldn't leave something so important in plain sight without any protection. His carelessness irritated him. He needed to find a way to obtain those documents, but apparently, they were protected by some kind of enchantment he knew nothing about. He stepped back frustrated, temporarily giving up on the idea. He would come up with a plan eventually. Slowly, the burning sensation in his fingertips faded until there was no trace of pain. It reminded him of when a child gets a light slap on the hand for trying to take something they shouldn't. He let out a small laugh. He wasn't going to deny that he deserved it. He had decided to leave the room when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small notebook with a lilac cover on the bed. He tried to resist the temptation, but in the end, curiosity won. With great care and caution, he slowly reached out to take the notebook. This time, no chains appeared, nor did he feel any burns. He examined its exterior, but the only thing written on the cover was the judge's name in very elegant lettering. Alastor shrugged and decided to open the notebook slowly until he could see the first page. Nothing happened. That page was completely blank. Now confident, Alastor decided to turn the page to start reading the contents of the notebook. To his surprise, the blank page wrapped around his index fingers, trapping them, and the notebook slammed shut.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, studying the way the paper had wrapped around his fingers. At first, he was confused; every time he tried to free his fingers, they became more trapped. Finally, he remembered what this was. He had fallen prey to a Chinese finger trap. A really sturdy one that wouldn't break even when he pulled with all his might. For several minutes, he tried to free himself from this trap. He tried in various ways, even with his demonic powers, but the finger trap wouldn't budge. It wasn't hard to deduce that it must also have some enchantment from Limbo. One of very poor taste in his opinion. It was as if they were mocking him. Completely frustrated, he decided to leave the room, hiding his little predicament with the sleeves of his coat. It would be absolutely humiliating if anyone saw him like this. No. Under no circumstances would he allow such a thing. He had had enough for today. He chose to retreat to his room and deal with the damn trap on his own; after all, he was a powerful Overlord.

Victoria

That morning she woke up with a slightly dry mouth. She wasn't sure if it was because of how much she had talked the night before, or from the alcohol she had drunk, or both. Anyway, she felt very happy to have had such a pleasant moment with Angel and Husk. After the chandelier incident, she knew she had to break that awkwardness with the residents immediately before it got worse. So, after getting up, she followed Angel and Husk to the hotel bar where things just fell into place wonderfully.

Unfortunately, her good mood was slightly overshadowed by remembering the reason she was in that place in the first place. Her biggest problem was that she had no idea how to enter the social circles of Hell without resorting to the Overlords or other more important figures. She also didn't want to ask for help from Lucifer because if introduced by him, she would attract too much attention by being associated with the king of Hell. No. She had to find another way, but for now, nothing came to mind. Perhaps she was too focused on that and needed to take some time to relax and clear her mind and maybe, acclimate to the environment. With that in mind, she made the decision to give herself the morning off.

She left her room and after a few minutes of wandering, she found, to her delight, a room with several armchairs and some shelves with books. It was a kind of reading room. She browsed through the books and most of them were dense classics. She could understand that for many, this type of reading could be torturous. There were works by authors like Ivan Turgenev, Leo Tolstoy, William Faulkner, etc. To her surprise, she found a book by Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. That would be her choice for the day. She sat in the armchair closest to the window and immersed herself in the story. She was so focused on her reading and wiping away the tears that Victor Hugo's words caused her that she didn't notice that someone had entered the room, closing the door.

"Good morning, dear judge!" Alastor greeted with a very lively and noisy voice. Victoria startled in her seat, emitting a small squeak. "It wasn't my intention to scare you, but I can't deny that was very amusing. It definitely must be repeated."

"Alastor," Victoria responded in a monotone voice, regaining her composure. "Good morning to you too," she added, returning her attention to the book, but the radio demon continued to stare at her. She tried to ignore him, but as time passed, she grew more uncomfortable. She sighed resignedly. "Yes? Do you need something?"

"Indeed, dear judge! But I didn't want to interrupt your... interesting reading. I see we share a taste for Victor Hugo, however, I believe you would categorize his books as tragedy and I... hmm never mind."

"You were going to say comedy, weren't you?" Victoria responded, narrowing her eyes and raising her eyebrows.

"Guilty," Alastor smiled.

"I think I'm the one who should decide that, right?" she replied jokingly. At that moment, Victoria noticed Alastor was hiding his hands. "What are you hiding?"

"What do you mean, dear judge?" Alastor feigned ignorance. Victoria gave him a stern look. Alastor pinned his ears back and looked to the side. "I don't have a weapon or anything of the sort. Relax, dear. In fact, Judge, I wanted... um... to ask for your help with a small matter, but I would greatly appreciate it if it stayed between us."

"My help?" Victoria looked at him incredulously and with complete distrust. This whole situation was too strange and suspicious. Her mental alarms were screaming at her not to meddle further in the matter. He was surely trying to manipulate her to get something from her. Had he discovered something else? Was he already aware of her abilities as a judge of Limbo?

"Indeed," Alastor responded with an expression of annoyance.

Victoria could tell that Alastor seemed uncomfortable. He wouldn't look her in the eye, and his expression seemed tense. "Alright. I'll help you."

"It's crucial, dear judge, that you don't tell anyone about this," the radio demon emphasized.

"Yes, yes. I got it," she replied a bit annoyed. "So, what is it?" At that moment, Alastor sighed and revealed his hands. Victoria tried to contain her laughter, but the corners of her lips trembled. What she was witnessing was hilarious. She tried to take a deep breath, but small chuckles tried to escape her lips. Alastor looked at her with his ears even more pinned back, averting his gaze with a look of absolute irritation. She couldn't hold it in any longer and started laughing. "Can you tell me why you have a Chinese finger trap?" she asked amidst laughter. "Wait... is it from my notebook? Did you sneak into my room?"

"I apologize for that invasion of your privacy," muttered the radio demon under his breath.

Victoria kept laughing. "Oh, Mr. Accused, it seems you're ready to be brought to court. Ready to testify?"

Alastor chuckled lightly at her last remark. "Yes, my esteemed judge. What am I accused of?" the demon played along.

"Attempted theft! And the evidence is very clear," said Victoria, pointing to Alastor's fingers trapped in the finger trap.

"False! I plead. It was never an attempted theft. Perhaps trespassing... but not theft,  judge."

At that moment, they both looked at each other while laughing lightly. Feeling more composed now, Victoria shook her head slightly, setting the book aside.

"Goodness, Alastor. I hope you didn't try to touch the documents I had on my table. I can't believe you entered my room. Is your curiosity that great? Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?"

"Should I feel offended that you're equating me to a cat?" the demon responded.

"On the contrary. They're pleasant creatures."

"Have you seen cats in Limbo?" Alastor asked, clearly confused.

"It doesn't matter. That's irrelevant. The point is... I'm very tempted to leave you like this. It would be much easier to deal with you in that state."

"Believe me, my dear judge, I don't need to have my hands free to make your day difficult. Why does your notebook have this cursed thing? I tried to free myself from it all night."

"Well, that notebook was a gift from Seilmon."

"Who?"

Victoria looked at him for a moment. Was this a trick from the radio demon to gather information? She sighed. There was really no harm in Alastor knowing a little about Limbo, and she highly doubted he would subject himself to such humiliation just to uncover her secrets. "Seilmon is the president of the five supreme judges. You could say he's my boss. He's a wise, calm being, but a bit playful. His sense of humor is somewhat childish. That finger trap is completely his style."

Alastor snorted indignantly. "Can you remove it?"

"I could... in exchange for a favor." Victoria wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

"Oh, I see you have claws, my esteemed judge," Alastor said, looking at her maliciously.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too serious. You shouldn't get defensive," Victoria said with a slight smile.

"You couldn't be more wrong. I'm not defensive, I'm very intrigued. Tell me, my dear judge, what can I do for you?"

"I need to enter some social circles of Hell without attracting too much attention. I didn't want to turn to anyone in authority because of the problems that could imply. It's not a good idea to owe favors to individuals like yourselves. But look at what a magnificent opportunity presented itself now that you're in this little predicament, isn't it?"

Alastor emitted a deep, grave laugh. He watched her for a few minutes, possibly trying to read her intentions, but she was being completely honest. Alastor approached her, and she immediately stood up from her seat. The last time he had gotten this close, she had ended up on the floor.

"Oh, don't be afraid, dear judge," Alastor said, leaning down to be at eye level with her. He looked into her eyes for a moment and then straightened up, raising his hands to expose them. "It seems like a fair deal. I'm at your mercy."

Victoria rolled her eyes in annoyance before proceeding to free Alastor from the finger trap. "Can I touch your hands?" she asked to avoid being invasive. The radio demon nodded. Victoria took Alastor's hands and first tried to release him from the trap by bringing his hands closer together to slide his fingers further into the tube. As she suspected, it didn't work. She knew Alastor was clever enough and must know the trick to get out of this type of artifact. She pondered for a moment. This was Seilmon's doing... she had to try to think like him.

"Well?" Alastor inquired. "Are you just going to hold my hands?"

"I'm thinking," she replied calmly. At that moment, a possible solution came to her mind. She concentrated for a moment and whispered, "Free yourself." The trap didn't release. It seemed she would have to give the command with the complete formula. After all, Seilmon was old-fashioned. Again, she focused and with a firm yet calm voice, she said, "With my authority as a judge, I mandate you to free yourself." Barely had she finished speaking when the finger trap released, freeing Alastor. Victoria smiled satisfactorily, but her tranquility wouldn't last long upon seeing her interlocutor's expression. The radio demon was looking at her with a wide smile and eyes full of enthusiasm.

"I SEE NOW! That's a judge's mandate! Tell me, my dear judge Victoria, then… are the rumors about your other abilities true?" LINK PART VI

[all-love-now]

"One mans cringe is another mans tattoo."

Here we are now it is H E A L E D.

So unbelievably happy with how it turned out 😇

[2-dsimp]

hello I saw that the kitchen is open! can I have an upside down cake with dragon beard candy with xiao? if the kitchen is closed then please delete this request! I hope you have a good day! <3

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Upside down cake + Dragon Beard candy!

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Cw: Heavy Angst! Slight yandere tendencies

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Xiao knew he shouldn’t have gotten to close to you. That he should’ve known his place and stayed content with only admiring you from within the safety net of your unassuming shadow. Ever since he became the right hand of his boss Zhongli, his life was sealed with the mark of death always looming over his head.

Known as the the debt collector in the streets, he was in charge of terminating any contractees who failed to uphold the contract the Don carefully crafted. Most of the time it ended up with him sending yet another poor bastard 6ft deep underneath the very ground he walked. Along with yet another bounty directed at his head as his job always includes gaining more enemies than allies.

And now due to his carelessness there was a red letter in the mail that indicated that his enemies knew of his precious darlings existence. Which caused him to be more paranoid and anxious whenever you’d leave to do little errands just like a dog suffering from separation anxiety.

He desperately wishes to go in public with you and show that you guys were an item. That you were his and his alone…

However that’ll only confirm the suspicions of his enemies of the relationship he cherished so dearly with his darling. So quickly he began distancing himself from you, each day going by without him constantly being by your side. Until the only way you could only spend time with him was being in the bed you both shared.

In the dark of the night lying there in bed with you, his dear lover. Xiao couldn’t help but feel the guilt and frustration ebbing away at his very being. The mere thought of you being hurt was torturing him, since he knew deep down that he was the one who put your life in jeopardy. All because he couldn’t resist temptation of reveling in the comforting warmth you exuded. I mean how could he abstain when you were his only source of salvation from his own self made hell.

But who was he kidding? How could a man like him deserve such an angel like you? When he was nothing but a mere dirty sinner, carrying around the stench of blood everywhere he went. No matter how many times you assured him that you loved him no matter what and that he was enough. He knew it’d never be enough. You deserved better.

Which is why tomorrow would be the day he’d disappear from your life and erase any traces that’d connect him with you.

‘That way you’d be safe…Right?’

Xiao thought bitterly to himself. His grip on you tightened as his head wracked with voices of uncertainty. Was the decision he was about to make the right one? Would you really be untouched once separated from his grasp?

Couldn’t he just keep you locked up and throw away the key?

Xiao flinched at the invasive suggestion. Did he really just propose the idea of keeping you under imprisonment? With a grave defeated smile he came to a conclusion. Truly he wasn’t worthy of a virtuous lover like you. That mere fact gave him all the more reason to steel his resolve at leaving you behind to make sure no harm will come your way because of his life threatening occupation.

‘It’s the only way to protect you my love’

Even if you may come to have your love for him reduced to hate. His only wish would be for you to live a happy long life no matter where you may be. Xiao gingerly placed one last loving kiss to your forehead as the sun began to rise diminishing the darkness residing within the confines of your home along with himself.

When you woke up in a daze the only evidence that he was with you was the green envelope he left behind on your bedside table. With shaky hands you tore open the letter and couldn’t hold the sobs wracking your throat.

From outside the bedroom window Xiao could only grit his teeth as he heard the muffled cries of anguish escape your lips. And left without looking back with heaviness weighing down in his bleeding heart.

[dross-the-fish]

You said something about making dracula a character. Why not just keep him a monster like in the book?

Because I don't want to represent the same kind of fear that he symbolizes in the book.

The main issue with Dracula as an antagonist is that he is very distinctly "scary foreigner" and his strong association with the Romani people doesn't really help that.

There's a lot of symbology in Dracula and Dracula himself is meant to play to Victorian era racism and xenophobia. There was a large concern at the time for people of other races or nationalities coming in and overpopulating predominately white countries like England. The imagery of Dracula turning pure, virtuous, women into vampires like himself is directly born out of the time period's fear of the racial other corrupting white English women.

making Dracula a person rather than an entity will help to undo a lot of that. Instead of being just a scary monster I intend to write him as a fallen man. A staunch traditionalist accustomed to ruling and trying to re-establish a status quo that doesn't exist anymore because his vampire status has frozen him and he is unable to adapt to the constantly evolving modern era. A king and conqueror who never foresaw that his kingdom would crumble and time would leave him behind.

This is a recurring motif among those who sign contracts, though their desires vary there's a common fear of change, be that change growing old, yielding power, or being left behind. An inability to accept loss and move on from it is what links all the members of team Dracula together and that is the weakness Mephistopheles prays on.

[2h3llandb4ck]

Some small sketches of my Valerie redesign (this name is better than her original one imo)

And you already know I gotta tweak some of her lore, so here we go 💃 (also ignore that mini trivia on the bottom, I obviously rewrote it HHDDH)

- Valerie’s a sinner again, she died in 2010 and had a special interest in knights. Her partner brought her to a medieval torture museum where she confessed that she didn’t want to date them anymore, and expressed an interest in women. Her partner, furious at Valerie’s confession, broke off one of the spears on display and mangled her, taking out her left eye in the process.

- Valerie lived in Heaven for about 4 years, managing to befriend an extremely busy angel named Lute. In 2014, she overheard the Powers (the Exorcists in this mini rewrite) descend to Hell to slaughter the sinners for the yearly Extermination. Valerie’s curiosity got the best of her, and she followed a Power down to Hell. Horrified at the angel’s cold attitude towards the sinners, Valerie managed to save one. She and the Power met by complete accident, and they revealed themselves to be Lute. Not wanting Valerie to be shut out from Heaven due to protecting an unholy being, the two struck a deal to never speak of this encounter, and have Lute act as if Valerie had gone missing.

- Valerie wandered the streets of Hell for a while after that, hiding her wings and keeping her Virtue status a secret from anyone who passed or approached her. She heard of the princess of Hell, Charlotte Magne, and her project to rehabilitate sinners. Valerie decided to join, not only to try to redeem as many sinners as possible, but to someday return to Heaven.

- She unknowingly sold her soul to Charlotte when she signed the employment contract, causing Valerie to lose her wings and become completely codependent on the princess. Despite this, a voice deep down in Valerie’s heart calls out to her, asking her to remember to be her own person and to always carry that virtuous light for her friend in Heaven.

And to close this off, some mini headcanons!

- Valerie wore a soft white eyepatch initially, but it got lost when she “went missing” in Hell. Charlotte gave her the new eyepatch she wears above as a means to see everything Valerie sees.

- Her Hell outfit was inspired by a Maki Harukawa design someone I admire did! I think it kind of looks like a knight,, fitting.

- Valerie has only seen Adam a couple of times at the promenade, and she never really approached him because he’s the First Man, and she’s a Virtue who is probably wasting his time </3

- Her best friend is Angel Dust. The two actually ran into each other quite a lot before Valerie stepped up to help Charlotte with the Happy Hotel. She often vents her feelings about her contract to Angel in private. By extension, she’s also a really good friend of Cherry Bomb.

- Every time she wants to disagree with Charlotte, Valerie feels like a burning needle is being pushed into her head. This is part of her contract, where she cannot disagree with Charlotte in any way, shape, or form. Charlotte is blissfully unaware of this. (Someone should tell her… but be gentle to the sheltered princess).

- If Valerie met her original canon self, she’d be extremely sad for them.

And that’s all! Gonna go sleep now, it’s gonna rain all day tomorrow…

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

Should we care about actor’s lives outside of their careers? E.g. if an actor you like watching gets a DUI, would you feel obligated to not watch any of their further works.? Or is there a separation between their work, their lives, thru political opinions, etc? sorry idk if that made sense

I think this is a matter of personal conviction. Personally, I tend to draw a pretty stark line in the sand between an actor and his work, for a few reasons:

There is a lot more that goes into a production than a single actor's work. Someone wrote it, someone directed it, multiple other people acted in it, someone scored it, someone edited it, etc. A Hollywood film has hundreds-to-thousands of people working on it, and the majority of them do not make more than 6 figures.

The actor is going to get paid for his work whether I watch it or not. The contract has already been signed. Sure, there are royalties, etc., but the lion's share has already been paid.

If I were to boycott all movies with pervy, crooked actors, I'd never watch another movie again (and that includes the old classics).

That's not an exhaustive list. But just off the top of my head, Harvey Weinstein, Lena Dunham, Armie Hammer, Woody Allen are all super wack people, but I still watch their movies. Why? Because Midnight in Paris is a genuinely good film about a genuinely good story. Because The Man From U.N.C.L.E. is a gorgeously created caper, and Hammer's performance in it is particularly captivating; why? Because we forget it is Armie Hammer we're watching and not Ilya Kuryakin.

The reason the best stories get passed down through generations is that they transcend the flaws of the people who first told them. We know well enough that Shakespeare was a flawed man, and some have decided to do away with him entirely on that basis. Those people would like to pretend that the course of history is innately virtuous instead of depraved. The sane way to view history (and art), is to seek the good where it exists in spite of the people or culture who created it.

That said, I can understand some folks' urge to boycott a certain movie due to the wicked actions of certain of its creators, and I'm not going to call that wrong. It's a threshold for each person to decide for themselves, but it is a threshold. You're not going to find a perfectly pure movie.