#and the professionals are just as bad as the amateurs in that regard

[mabith]

Look, chef on Serious Professional competition, I know it's vegan but unless you can perfectly recreate the texture of a panna cotta don't call whatever non-dairy custard you've made a panna cotta to the Michelin star chef judge. You are not doing yourself any favors.

#just pick a different name for it bud #have you never seen this competition before? You call an element a specific thing then it better deliver on the original's textures #I really need to start a business tutoring people before they go on cooking competition shows #like half the time y'all act like you've never seen the show #and the professionals are just as bad as the amateurs in that regard

[toxicanonymity]

3:00 special.

3.5k words, slasher!Joel x f!reader | Slasher Joel SUMMARY: One shot - Joel entertains himself while you sleep, then makes good on his promise to ruin you in the morning. Title from his playlist, # 1. WARNINGS: I8+ dubious consent p in v sex, degradation, toy, vag fisting, dark humor, dark character, slasher typical regard for realism. creator chooses not to warn further detail but happy to answer Qs. hope my editing isn't too bad. A/N: Thank you so much everyone for the comments, mood boards, asks. Y'all make this AU fun to write and interactive. @toxicfics for notifs (how to see notifs all in one place) @toxicrecs for recs. dividers by @gasolinerainbowpuddles.

It's well after midnight. Joel is normally awake and on call at this hour. In fact, he’s on call right now, but he couldn't tell you where his phone is. You’re asleep under his arm, and he’s not tired enough to drift off. He shuts his eyes and thinks about what he wants to do to you. 

Cockslut like you has gotta have toys lyin’ around. Prolly can’t go 12 hours without gettin’ your gash stuffed. 

He cautiously lifts his arm off your back, slides out of bed, and tiptoes over to the window to get a little more moonlight in there. Then, he goes to your nightstand. You sigh in your sleep. 

He opens the drawer and rolls his eyes in disappointment when there’s only one satin bag. Just a vibrator. Then he sees the corner of a dark, suede box sticking out from under your bed. Jackpot. You’re sleeping face down, and your arm is dangling off the bed, fingers nearly grazing the corner of the box. He manages to pull it out from under the bed without disturbing you. There’s another one behind it, too. 

He sits on his knees and opens the box. Oh yeah. You’ve got all sorts of dildos, dongs, rabbits, there’s like six cocks in this box. There’s lube, a strap, suction cups. So many possibilities, he can’t think straight. God damn. 

He picks up the biggest dick. He wraps his hand around it. Aren’t these things supposed to be bigger than real ones? Especially for a size queen like you. You must be using more than one at a time. He imagines you smashing two of them together and sitting on them, letting out a slutty moan as you sink down. 

He’s hard as a rock. Your phone lights up on the nightstand, and he looks at it. It’s 2:33 and there’s a pop-up notification. It has a flame logo with the text,  “Darren and 18 others are waiting for your response.” What the fuck is this? 

He unplugs the phone and tries to open the notification, but it’s locked. He eyes your hand, still dangling off the bed, and carefully presses the screen against your thumb to unlock it. He has some trouble finding the notification again. He’ll figure it out, but first he’s got to do something about this brick in his boxers. 

You’re snoring lightly now, covered by only a light sheet. You’re out cold. Probably out whoring every night this week, and now you’re finally catching up on sleep. 

His stomach growls.  

He sits up on his knees, facing your bed. You’re still on your stomach, and the knee closest to him is bent. Practically spread eagle, no surprise there. He pinches the sheet and slowly pulls it down until everything above your knees is exposed. 

His balls twitch at the sight of your glistening wound. God damn, look at you leaking. 

There’s a trail of cum and two dark spots on the sheet under you. Wonder how many loads you’ve got on this bed. Mattress must look worse than his. His cock bounces and rubs it with his wrist. He growls, looking at your snatch. 

Yeah he’s gonna ruin you in the morning, or as soon as he’s done figuring out what kind of whoring you’re up to. He didn’t imagine the professional kind. You seemed more like an amateur. 

But you’ve got 18 dicks waiting for you in this thing. He looks at your phone. 

—

Joel opens the camera app and carefully lines up a shot between your legs. Then he takes a picture. SHIT, it flashes. 

You whine in your sleep but don’t wake up. He looks at the picture. It’s a good shot, really good. He turns the flash off. 

You probably won’t even wake up if he touches you. So used to having hands and dicks and tongues all around this sloppy cunt. He stands up and makes an upside-down v-shape with his fingers and uses them to spread you even wider. You twitch and a little drop of cum rolls out, making him moan softly. He takes another picture. 

-

He goes out to your living room carrying a bottle of lube and your phone. There’s a massive tent bobbing in his tight boxers. He settles in on the sofa and takes out his cock and balls. His stomach growls again and he lazily rubs his belly. Guess mama was right, he should’ve ate more. 

He lubes up his dick, then looks at the picture on your phone. Your app offers to auto-correct the last one, and he can see much better after saying yes. 

Good lord. 

He has half a mind to fuck you right now, but instead he wraps his hand around his cock. 

He strokes himself, imagining those toys stuffing your slutty hole. What a sloppy mess you’d be, all fucked out and stretched from taking as many dicks as you could. He looks at the first picture, with the flash: an HD photo of the aftermath of his cock. You’re really something else. He’s never seen anyone take a dick like you. He switches between the pictures and groans at the sight of you spread wide open by his fingers. His hand makes you look smaller than you are. He could probably park his truck in there. 

Fuck. 

He strokes himself faster. 

Another notification with a flame pops up. You have a new match! 

Still jerking himself, he follows the notification and it opens your app.

“Alright, sex kitten,” he mutters under his breath. 

A message badge at the bottom of the screen shows you have 21 new. God damn, you love cock. He fucks his fist, hips slightly flexing. “Ohh,” he moans and closes his eyes thinking about you browsing for dick, vag drooling. But none of them can stuff you and stretch you the way he does. He pulls his shirt up and sighs as he cums into his fist and on his belly. 

He wipes his hand off on his shirt, leaving the cum smeared there, then wipes it again on his boxers before lying down on the sofa and using your phone with both hands. 

It's this easy? He knew you were this easy. Let's see what these other guys are packing. 

Joel opens a message from Marcus. Marcus says, “Hey, I saw you like coffee. Wanna grab a cup at the Bean Bar this week?” Joel clicks on the guy’s profile. He’s into traveling and books. No dick pics, not even an outline. What a fuckin’ loser. Joel deletes the match and returns to your list of guys. He sees a thumbnail of a guy with lips parted and his shoulders are bare. He opens that one. 

Benny. “Damn look at you,” Benny said. “Wanna get at this?” There’s a picture of him grabbing a bulge in his gym shorts. He’s got a green dot by his name. 

Joel thinks to himself, then types to Benny, “Yeah I love cock,” and sends it with a woosh.

He goes to look at Benny’s profile, and he’s a boxer. Most of his pics are shirtless. Lots of pics with slutty sweatpants. He looks like a dumbass, but at least he's smart enough to know what you’re looking for. The question is, does he have it. 

Benny replies. “Fuck yeah, got plenty for ya.”

“Hm,” Joel doubts to himself, then types, “Show me.” 

Benny replies, “Damn, most chicks don’t want the full monty.” 

Joel squints in frustration. Is Benny dense? 

“I SAID I LOVE COCK,” Joel replies on your behalf. 

“Lmao I like it. I show you mine, you show me yours 😉,” Benny responds. 

“No problem,” Joel sends.

Before he does anything else, Joel thinks to text himself those two pics. Mama’s right, he’s smart. He’s got her wits. His stomach growls again. 

You wake up in the middle of the night and hear something. As you blink awake, a flickering blue light is coming from down the hall. You put on a long t-shirt and rub your eyes on your way to the living room. You begin to faintly hear the shamwow infomercial as the silhouette of Joel Miller’s hair comes into view.  He’s sitting on your sofa watching tv. He bends forward and puts something on your coffee table.  Then, as he settles back into the sofa, he does an exaggerated yawn and stretches his arms over the back of the couch. You look at the clock. It’s 3:45 AM. 

You pad into the living room and observe him manspreading on the couch.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he yawns as you sit down next to him on the sofa, taking in the scene. He’s in boxers and a navy shirt that’s ridden up exposing a couple of inches of belly. There are darker blotches on the shirt. 

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, voice hoarse with sleep. A better question would be, why are you still in my house?

“Couldn’t sleep. Got hungry. Want some casserole?” He sighs with the effort as he bends forward to get the Tupperware and fork for you. 

“Where’d that come from?” you ask. 

“Mama made it. Spaghetti casserole. Really good, you should try it.” He practically shoves it into your face. 

You pick up the fork and take a bite. 

“Mmm,” you hum in genuine enjoyment. “Wow, this is good.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees with brightened eyes. “Ya know, you could come for dinner sometime. She’d love to have ya.” He mentions it casually, but there’s a glimmer of hope behind his eyes. 

You know better than to laugh in his face, but you don’t exactly accept the invitation either. “Really?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Joel nods as you take another bite. “More where that came from.”  You contemplate as you chew and he cradles his balls through his boxers. You finish your bite and put the casserole and fork down. He finishes a beer. 

“Sure,” you nod, then get up to go back to bed. 

“Where ya goin’?” He asks.

“Gotta work in a few hours.”

His face darkens, but he stays where he is.

“This whorefire app’s pretty cool,” Joel calls after you. What is he talking about? 

You turn around and he’s standing up. He stretches with his arms wide, and his boxers are low enough to show his pubic hair and whiter skin, giving you a little rush of arousal. Your eyes pan over his body and you don’t even notice the phone in his hand. He tosses it onto the sofa. 

He takes slow steps and you stand still. Soon he’s in arm’s reach and lowers his voice. “Get over here, kitten.”

He walks into you, then reaches around to grab your ass. He slides a palm down over your crack until his middle finger meets your slick. 

“Mmm,” he growls.”I’ll tuck ya in.” 

He smacks your ass with a low,“Ooh!” then walks into your bedroom. 

You’re throbbing at the thought of having him again, but you find yourself muttering, “Said I had to sleep,” as you get back in bed. You slip your feet under the sheets. 

He doesn’t waste any time before getting on top of you. “Spread’em, sweetheart.” He knees your legs apart and shoves his hand between your legs. He locks eyes with you as he rubs your most sensitive place. “Fuck,” he growls, then sits up on his knees. He holds the thick shape of his cock through his boxers and with his other hand, nudges your entrance, then easily slips a finger inside. When he adds a second, you whimper. 

“I’m comin’,” he grumbles to your needy cunt. He pulls his boxers down and clumsily takes them off before settling back between your legs with his heavy cock looming, making you gush. He braces a hand on the bed, to the side of your hips. You’re ready, so ready for it. Your body is making space for him. You feel yourself opening up. But he gives you his fingers again. He slides in one, then two with ease, stacked vertically. It’s not enough, especially without any attention to your front. 

“Look at this messy mouth, droolin’ all over, swallowin’ whatever I give it.”  He adds a third finger, also stacked vertically. He thrusts them a few times, gazing at you in a trance, then rotates his hand palm up, with three thick fingers spreading you wide. He leans forward so his palm covers your clit, thank god, as he fucks you with three fingers. 

He lowers his voice and reveals, “I know ya don’t gotta work. Found your paystub in your car, whoops.” He spreads his fingers and inhales a deep, hungry breath as his fingers continue filling you. “‘S’okay. Just be good for me.” 

“I’m always good,” you breathe, hips lifting into his hand. 

He chuckles darkly. “Always good. Almost cut my dick off one time,” he reminds you. 

“You tried to kill me–ohhh,” He curls his fingers and digs his palm down on your front. 

His face darkens, and his fingers pause all the way inside you. “Sweetheart, if I tried, ya wouldn’t be here.” 

He shoots you a glare that makes the back of your neck go cold with sweat as his fingers slide out. 

He shoves his cock in with a grunt that turns into a sigh as his girth spreads you open. With his eyes still dark, he withdraws half his length, then slams into you hard, “Mmmnngh,”  with his jaw clenched. He releases his breath and sighs vocally, fully sheathed in your warmth. 

His hips begin to move. “Gonna take this when I say, how I say,” he breathes, then grits his teeth as he slams into you again. 

It’s like having a soda can between your legs, and your body welcomes it. 

“Fuck you're tight. ‘Specially compared to earlier.” 

Joel looks down where your bodies are joined and watches his big dick disappear between your legs. “Take it like a fuckin’ pro.” He buries his length in your dripping hole, you're getting wetter by the minute. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He slams into you hard and you brace your hand on the headboard. 

“Fuck,” you whisper and raise your knees, spreading your legs wider. 

“Good kitten,” he says. 

He rails into you one more time and bottoms out. He reaches over to the other side of the bed near the headboard, and slides his hand under a pillow, retrieving a dong. 

He holds it by the base and wobbles it in the air. 

His cock slides out of you, arousal dripping everywhere onto the sheet. 

He holds the dong up to his hard cock. “Think you’ve graduated.” 

He begins to line the toy up with your entrance.

“Supposed to use lube with that,” you protest. 

“Sweetheart,” he laughs, then grumbles, “You should see the mess between your legs.” He wets his lips as he stares at your cunt. Arousal rolls down his cock, over his huge sack.  “Still drippin’ off me, damn.” 

He cups his balls and grunts “Mmm,” before returning to the task. 

He lightly taps your pussy a few times, listening to the wet smacking sound. “You’re good,” he chuckles. He wipes off his hand on the head of the dong.

His brows furrow. He uses his thumb and finger to spread you wide, then begins to push the toy into you. “Nothin’ this greedy pussy can’t do.” It doesn’t feel nearly as good as he does. 

He thrusts the dong in and out of you a few times then pauses with it mostly withdrawn. He presses the toy against one of your walls, and slides in one finger, then two alongside the toy. 

You spread your legs wide so he can get even closer. He lines up his stiff cock flat against the side of the dildo and uses his fingers to help wedge the tip of his cock in. The stretch burns until he pushes a little more and you swallow nearly his whole tip. 

He pushes a bit more and you groan. 

“You can do it, baby.” He thumbs your clit, helping you open up more. His tan tummy swells with his flexing abs and he begins to push again. He presses his hips forward and his cock slides all the way into you along with the dong. 

“God damn,” he breathes. “Wish you could see this—unngggh,” He pulls back, holding the toy steady, watching your pussy cling to him, the thin membrane stretched wide, begging him back. “Fuck, you can take a cock.” 

Your insides swell with arousal. It's an incredibly full feeling, but it also makes you throb how he loves to watch you take as much as you can, and he's always got more to give, somehow. 

“Shoulda used the strap,” he mumbles. 

He thrusts and pushes the toy another time, then says “Fuck it.”

He slides out of you, and your cunt feels cold on the outside and inside. 

“Oh, fuck,” Joel murmurs and strokes himself. “Baby you're gapin’.” He wedges three fingers together and slides them face up into you with such ease it makes your face burn. “Well,” he chuckles. “Damn.” He slides them almost all the way out and adds his pinky. Again they slide in you without much resistance after taking two cocks side by side. 

“God damn, sweetheart,” Joel marvels. He slides the four wide digits as far in as they’ll go, then starts fucking you with his hand, thumb on your clit. Your body feels hollow with butterflies and all you can do is moan. 

He clamps his hand down to grind the heel of his palm on your clit with four fingers all the way inside you and you groan, so close to the edge. Clit pounding.

“Come on, baby. Squeeze me and I'll give ya one more.” 

You’d thought about it so many times since that once. The thought of his fist trips you right over the edge, the blood that was swelling your core exploding outward as waves of pleasure consume you. 

“Attagirl,” he mutters with your pelvis lifting into his hand. “Fuck, that's hot.” He watches you clench around his hand, more arousal gathering on his fingers . 

The tip of his cock is leaking now, but his attention is all on you. As you come down from your high, he says, “relax for me,” which you already are. He spits on his thumb, then slides his fingers out just enough to wedge his thumb in. 

Your skin is hot from your climax. He begins to push in. “Fuck,” he mutters as he slides his hand in. “Only see this in porn,” he mumbles, sliding his hand in and out gently.  The thought of him jacking off watching someone get fisted makes you twitch. “You’d be a star ya know.” Your skin gets hotter at the comment. His hand flexes inside you, then he slides it back out toward your entrance. His hand comes out, literally dripping. 

He eyes your gaping cunt and says, “you should see this.” 

He thumbs your clit with his dryer hand as he runs the knuckles of his wet fist through your folds. Then begins to nudge your stretched out hole. You widen your hips even more and he begins to nudge inside, wiggling his fist gently as your greedy cunt consumes it. It gets easier as he pushes deeper. “Oh, God,” he pants, wrist deep inside you. “Fuck, I gotta be back in there.” 

He slides his fist out, braces a hand on the bed, and shoves himself into you all at once. It’s not a stretch at all. Your body is barely starting to gather itself back together, loosely hugging his cock. 

He asks, “Want more, huh?”

You nod, face burning. 

“This fat cock ain't doin’ it?” He fucks you loose and sloppy. “Ever seen a fatter one?” You shake your head no, and it's true. “Fattest cock ya’ever seen can't fill ya up.” 

“Not now,” you mutter and grab the toy. You wrap your lips around it, tasting yourself as you wet it with slobber. 

“Cause I ruined ya,” Joel nods. “Wrecked this greedy gash. Ohh baby, look at ya suck that cock.”

You take the toy out of your mouth with a pop and reach down to line the head up with his cock. 

He pauses. “God DAMN,” he says as you push it in alongside him. He pushes his hips forward, filling you up. 

You sigh as you're once again full. 

“Fuck, that feels better,” he breathes, moving his hips to pump in and out of you to the same rhythm of your hand. “Ohh, fuck I'm gonna–” 

“Hold on,” you tell him. 

He’s struggling not to come. Sweating, panting, looking at your stuffed cunt, then your body, your blissed out face, then the ceiling as he fucks you while you fuck yourself, too. 

Soon, he bottoms out with a groan and pulses inside. 

“I dunno how ya do it,” he marvels. “Tight as hell, then she’s gapin’, beggin’ for more.”

When he slides out of you, you’re grateful he holds you as your body fills the void. He spoons you but stays up on one elbow so he’s hovering, looking at you in the moonlight. He brushes your burning cheek with his thumb and smiles. He nudges your chin to face him and he kisses you good night, again. You fall asleep spooning. 

Your engagement is what makes this AU fun to write. I would love to hear your thots, what lore you want, etc. that's what makes Tumblr my platform of choice, too. If you're shy, anons are back on for now.

If you're not caught up on night walks, consider giving it a shot - Night Walks (latest - beach walks).

If you want more of a character, engage. It's fun for all. Don't use AI, which makes writing less fun.

IDK when or what I will post next.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @am-3-thyst

#slasher!joel #dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #cw degradation #cw dubcon #dead dove au #toxicanonymity ☠️ #slasher!joel miller #mama slasher

[cheiyunn]

Kimisute main story [１部 ] Part 2

Side: Fantome Iris

[Sharehouse]

Felix: I also want to hear everyone’s opinions. How about it?

Daimon: Lets see… I’m on the same boat as Felix

Jun: m-Me too. Since we’ve finally gotten here, and I know that with going pro there’s gonna be a lot more problems but still…!

Tomoru: In terms of the professional world, we’re only just newcomers after all

Tomoru: In order to be buried under the other visual kei bands, we need focus on the worldbuilding of Fantome Iris, and if possible embellish it more

Koharu: Um so… before we continue there's something I need to address too…

Koharu: Remember how a little while back my job stuff caused you guys to well… more importantly, caused a lot of trouble even to our followers that care alot about us?

Tomoru: Well that was… but we already discussed it before right?

Tomoru: We said that we were going to continue on as we always have

Koharu: Yeah but. After that I did some thinking and well… That it wasn’t good to inconvenience the people around me ‘cause of my own choices

Felix: Koharu…

Koharu: That's why right now, I’m discussing some stuff with my workplace too

Jun: Is that… regarding your shifts?

Koharu: No. Actually, that nursery is run by a company. They were talking about opening a new facility where they leave their child in care on a 24 hour rotation

Koharu: The people at my workplace were asking if it was okay by me, to transfer there

Daimon: Should we take that as good…news..?

Koharu: Yeah. They were talking about hiring people who want to choose their shift times, so if I do move there, it’ll be easier for me to move around and prioritize the band

Felix: Then that becomes similar to me. Since I only continue my French lessons to the students that will continue to learn. 

Tomoru: That sounds great Koharu-san! I really hope it works out

Daimon: Its most important that you find a way to continue what you love without giving up

Koharu: Yeah, thanks. Its not set in stone yet but I just wanted to tell you guys!

Jun: Hah… while everyone’s got their footing I’m still…

Felix: Well you’re always working on Fantome Iris’ music composition right?

Felix: I look forward to what you’ll bring, Jun

Jun: Fe- Felix-san…!

Koharu: …dontcha feel that he’s gonna ask the impossible for the next song? 

Daimon: Definitely 

Tomoru: Jun will be fine. I mean, he’s responded to all of Feli’s impossible requests so far anyways

Koharu: Well that's true

Felix: Apologies to spark a conversation while eating. Lets eat before the food really gets cold

Daimon: True. It seems our drinks are long gone so I’ll bring some more

Tomoru: Oh, I’ll help out too

Koharu: You, dontcha get that you’re the main character today? Now be patient and sit down..!

.

--[Koharu and Daimon leave]--

.

Tomoru: But…

Felix: Tomoru, in regards to our next activities, did you get any orders from the label?

Felix: When I had asked in the past they said that the current way is fine so…

Tomoru: Hm, yeah… there wasn’t anything to note on my end either

Tomoru: The question just now was more because I wanted to personally confirm everyone’s opinions

Tomoru: I got the confirmation that for the live schedule, the current direction I put together was to stay approved that way too

Jun: I knew you could do it but still… such a skillful manager..! Well considering you’ve also been doing something similar to this from a while back Tomoru…

Jun: Then that means that the transfer to Dreadnought wasn’t that bad then?

Tomoru: That's not true at all

Tomoru: Ever since I started working as a manager, I realized that everything I had done up to now was simply an amateur level imitation…

Jun: r-really…?

Felix: It's the same with how the bar for when we were indie and the bar now that we’re pro are different right

Jun: The bar that they expect from us as pros…

--[Koharu comes back]--

.

Koharu: Woah what's this. I told you to eat and yet you’re all still sitting around serious talking?

Daimon: I thought that for the occasion I’d make a little more, it should be almost done

Felix: Ah, our apologies

Felix: Merci beaucoup, Koharu, Daimon

.

[Time passes]

Felix: C'était très bon! The meal was delicious Daimon

Daimon: That's good to hear

Tomoru: At the very least let me help clean up the dishes

Jun: Tomoru… aren’t you too tired…

Tomoru: After eating good food and talking, it feels like my energy’s all restored

Jun: You’re so healthy it burns…!

.

--[Felix’s phone rings]--

.

Felix: hm..? Its my brother, pardon me for a moment

.

--[Felix walks away from the table]--

.

Felix: Bonsoir, whats wrong?

Felix: …oh, so uncle has…  I understand, thanks for relaying this to me

#fromargonavis #fantome iris

[floenz]

dfk 2023 thoughts in more orderly and english under the cut

dfk

- the whole thing feels sörta soulless and empty

- and in my amateur opinion the screenplay is nor very tight and even clumsy at points

- which im turn hindered the actors (Mrs Kreuzkamm falls victim to a bad script and Justus too at a slighlty lesser rate) and especially the kids actors

- regarding the kids: Jos characterisation is.....wrong

- like literally doesnt have anything to do with johnny

- nothing

- Matz and Uli were also just not it i cant explain it it just didnt hit

- but i actually enjoyed the martina storyline and execution

- but in general it did not feel like they were trying to tell the same story as the book

- like this doesn't feel like an adaption this feels like it wants to be something completely different

justraucher et al.

- justus is a math teacher and it bothered me at the beginning

- but thing is it fits this Justus vibes perfectly

- because he is kinda idk cold?? he doesn't feel kind so all the interactions with the kids fall flat

- "[...] you're not allowed to greet me for 14 days"~justus "thats all 🤨"~jo <- dragging two characters into the mud in one single exchange

- the nichtraucher tho holy

- ive read jinx say most bisexual nichtraucher yet and

- yes

- he sure has the vibes

- my only criticism for him is that he also doesn't really radiate kindness but ill allow it because he is kinds cunty and serves that so

- but yea his outfits, his ring, his nail polish

- king shit

- while we're on the topic: justraucher

- they are still very much dads but divorced dads which is actually an interesting interpretation

- when the kids reunify them the nichtraucher is sexy woodchopping in a sleeveless shirt and glowering at justus and im not saying the scene radistes sexual energy but slso it kinda did like at one point he is glaring at justus and ripping apart wood with his bare hands

- and then they meet again after uli fell down the wall and its like to exes meeing suddendly like fanfiction level of miscommunication but 👉👈 i enjoyed that

- justus gets angry and the nichtraucher goes like 🥺

- they make up over long and intense eye contacts during the play

- ok im done talking about justraucher

- the other ships:

- sorry cnka uli und matz is...not it in this movie none of them feel like fully realised characters and it's just very...distant

- matz just kinda stands there when they put uli in the rubbish on the cupboard

- martina and jo starts rough but they have some nice cute scenes in the end

- jo kinda mellows out in the end and then they start to get along

mis

- matz really does get one hit K.O.ed after saying its not fair to fight cos he's a professional.......

- "when i was five my mum abandoned me in a disco😔"~jo killed me i had to stop the movie to laugh

- uli climbs a wall to prove he's not a angsthase and everyone's like nobody managed that before but the wall is like 7 m high 🤡

- justus always goes like ⌚️👀 its so late i have get some work done ⌚️👀 when the writers didnt know how to end a scene hkkcgkkbgjjvvk

- the train cart looks really cozy and cottagecorey here and i like it so much

- the nichtraucher is honestly just living his live vibin and being bi its wonderful

- he plays chess with himself

#das fliegende klassenzimmer 2023 #dfk #das fliegende klassenzimmer #i couldnt fall asleep again so this is what i decided to do

[theundiagnosable]

i hate when people give unwarranted criticism in art because in art the point of “getting better” is only present some fucking times

amateur artists dont fucking exist because that is not the point of art

an artist only becomes “amateur” when someone out there is gritting their teeth at someone enjoying the artistic process

if someone is smiling while they draw you dont get to call them lazy because they do it in a certain way and you dont get to call them amateur because it doesnt meet your certain standards

there are people out there that want to get better and will ask for help when they wish to get it, and there are people who just want to have fun

no random artist you meet online owes you shit and they dont need to listen to your criticism if you give it to them unwarranted

seeing a newer artist whose work doesnt regard “artist fundamentals” is not a personal fucking attack on you, that shit is only fundamental if you care about learning it

no specific artists work or how they make it is lazy, amateur, or “chicken scratchy,” or “messy,” or whatever fucking thing you want to call it thats just a “passive” aggressive way of telling someone theyre “bad at art”

your opinion as a professional artist only means shit the moment someone seeks out your knowledge in order to learn more

there should be no reason that you cringe at a newer artist doing a particular thing youve grown out of

even if you personally think it looks bad or whether or not you like the piece doesnt matter. if that person is having fun and smiling as they enjoy the human experience of creating art for themselves or others, you have no reason to openly shame them for what they do or how they do it

nobody likes having their fun spoiled for stupid reasons

nobody likes unwarranted criticism

artists who wish to personally improve will ask for help and seek out information

you can rely on them to fucking do so

you dont need to go around pretending youre saving someones life when you tell them to stop shading a certain way

#i dont really have any tags to put in here #im just a little miffed #perhaps too miffed about a youtube short that i saw #and what stupid motherfuckers were saying in the comments #i dont wanna put any art tags in there because i dont really want to go out of my way to make people see this #if it does the rounds then it will

[strongislandsuperfan]

New York's Mount Rushmore

Recently, the The Sporting News company decided to come up with some cool Mount Rushmore's for different cities regarding sports. Cities such as Minneapolis, Los Angeles, Denver, even the Bay Area (a region in California that includes San Francisco, Oakland, Vallejo & San Jose) all had their own Mount Rushmore's. Of course this sparked a lot of debates on the internet as some sports fans were dissatisfied with some of the names chosen or excluded.

I also noticed some other great cities that weren't mentioned, such as Tampa Bay, San Antonio, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Indianapolis, Cleveland, just to name a few. They should have been, as a lot of history and great sports moments have been created in these places as well.

Then, came my hometown, New York. Of course, I kept my eye on this, just to make sure they got it right, as well as several New York sports fans. The general concern and feeling from New York sports fans was, "If this doesn't include Lawrence Taylor, we riot!" and we meant it. For me, I expected the NY Yankees to dominate this Mount Rushmore, but I thought about the other sports and sports figures that should be on here. One that comes to mind, for me, is Mike Tyson. Would we include any soccer players on this list? After all, there is a very large population that has immigrated to New York where soccer is the national past time? Then I thought, well, Sporting News only included a few hockey players from other cities, so if they were going to include any of those players, Mike Bossy and Mark Messier should be included.

Wait what about college players? Ernie Davis is from New York? What about the city of Buffalo? Everyone forgets that they're in the state of New York as well. There's more to this region besides New York City, Long Island and the other "honorary" areas that we include (North Jersey & Western Connecticut).

Even if you were to break apart the state of New York, from a regional perspective, there would be at least 4 different Mount Rushmores for this state; Long Island, New York City, Upstate New York and Buffalo could respectfully have their own Mount Rushmores, if you include both pro and college sports.

Also, what about women athletes, especially regarding the WNBA and other women's sports? Naturally, I would expect some backlash and debate from certain fans that feel "triggered" by the thought of a woman being included on this Mount Rushmore, but I honestly don't see what the big deal would be.

There's more to this region besides the straight forward sports that we know and love. To exclude anyone else or not acknowledge any other sport would be a disservice. Then again, if we really combed through the history of sports in New York, from the collegiate level to the professional level and even include semi-pro and amateur leagues, a simple Mount Rushmore just wouldn't do it justice.

Just thinking about it makes my head spin because the list can go so many ways and so many names deserve to be on this list.

When it finally debuted, this is what The Sporting News came up with:

Ummm..... not bad. I appreciate that my favorite teams, the Yankees, Knicks and NY Giants, dominated this Mount Rushmore, but, I expected something different honestly. I'm just please that Lawrence Taylor was on this.

I would have gone a different route, breaking this list up, since its so many ways this could have gone. Then I realized, I cannot create this Mount Rushmore without being 100% biased. Naturally, because I am ingrained to my loyalties to the NY Giants, NY Islanders, NY Yankees and NY Knicks, favoritism would be at play. That would be unfair to other New York sports fans and delusional on my part to not recognize great athletes and hall of famers from the NY Jets, NY Rangers and the NY Mets. I am keeping the Brooklyn Nets off the list, since technically, they established their history in New Jersey by way of Long Island via the ABA. I would also approach the NY Liberty of the WNBA softly, since I am a casual fan and to be honest, I became disinterested in the WNBA since they slapped those corporate sponsors on the player's jerseys and the NY Liberty haven't exactly had championship success. However, they need to be recognized. Rebecca Lobo is a women's basketball icon for a reason.

Speaking of icons, there is one name that I was shocked that wasn't included. Derek Jeter. This is where my favoritism comes in. When it comes to baseball in New York, that can also have its own Mount Rushmore. Darryl Strawberry, Jackie Robinson, Doc Gooden, Duke Snider, Don Mattingly, Mariano Rivera, Gary Carter, Keith Hernandez, Reggie Jackson and Bobby Bonilla are names that come to mind. However, to leave Derek Jeter off is just freakin' mental to me. Even if you dislike Jeter or hate the Yankees, to not acknowledge his impact on baseball or not even drop his name in the conversation is like having an NBA top 10 of all time and purposely leaving Kobe Bryant or Michael Jordan off the list, just because you hate them that much. Just disrespectful.

Finally, comes the question, what is my Mount Rushmore for New York sports? First of all, the names included would be names that had an impact on my generation. While I can't include other sports such as soccer, since I don't watch enough of MLS and only one name comes to mind for me with regards to the NY Liberty of the WNBA, my list would include New York athletes of the 80', 90's and early 2000's. I'm not just looking at who won championships per say, but looking at cultural & regional impact as well. Also, I cannot limit my Mount Rushmore to just four people. I would have to stretch it out to at least six people.

So, with that being said, my New York sports Mount Rushmore goes as follows:

-Mike Tyson

-Derek Jeter

-Patrick Ewing

-Lawrence Taylor

-Mike Bossy

-Carmelo Anthony

My Mount Rushmore alone sparks controversy, especially the last name mentioned, Carmelo Anthony. The fact is, he won a NCAA national championship with Syracuse University, in Upstate NY and when he was traded to the Knicks, he made New York basketball relevant again. Also, you cannot talk about boxing in New York and not even mention Mike Tyson, the baddest man on the planet, whose roots began in Brooklyn, New York. The other names mentioned, Patrick Ewing, Derek Jeter and Lawrence Taylor were an absolute given.

As I had warned earlier in this blog, biased would be at play, otherwise, names such as Keith Hernandez, Jim Kelly, Bruce Smith, Joe Nammath, Rocky Marciano, Curtis Martin and Mark Messier would have been mentioned. Sorry. 🤷‍♂️

For the record, there were other names considered for my New York sports Mount Rushmore as well, such as Rebecca Lobo, Eli Manning, Bobby Nystorm, Charles Oakley, Julius Irving, Michael Strahan, Stephon Marbury and last but not least, former hall of fame pro-wrestler Mick Foley, I even considered. Yes, that's right! I was gonna put a pro-wrestler on this Mount Rushmore and the one name that needs to be on every New York sports fans list is Mick Foley. He is from Long Island and he was the unlikely hardcore wrestling icon that nobody expected. Mrs. Foley would be proud.

Basketball in itself is its own Mount Rushmore. We cannot just limit it to the pros, street ballers have to be included as well. That obviously isn't necessarily a Mount Rushmore we could limit to just 4, 5 or 6 names. We would need an entire mountainous country to fill that in. Same goes for hockey in New York.

The overall conclusions I've come to, with regards to New York sports Mount Rushmore is that there are too many names to consider, which is why we cannot just limit it to one sport, one in-state region or one generation of talent. The other conclusion; New York has a lot of sports history that we can be proud of.

The opinion expressed regarding the New York sports Mount Rushmore is just that, an opinion. I leave the conclusion for your own New York sports Mount Rushmore up to you.

That is all.

#nba #nfl #mlb #wnba #nhl #ncaabasketball #sportsfan #sports opinion #mount rushmore #basketball #ballislife #football #baseball #boxing

[pd3thoughts]

Shade knew these people from the start. She’s heard them on microphones, seen them on cameras; but never managed to talk to the PAYDAY gang.

As she began to interact with the four thieves, it was mind-boggling to her how high they’ve been regarded. Those amateurs? They’ve been sipping margaritas on a beach for the past five years!

Still, she wouldn’t mouth off at them. This doesn’t mean she’s fond of the PAYDAY crew, but she knows that he would’ve wanted her to show some respect.

…Shade couldn’t bring herself to insult the people he loved, at least not to their faces.

(Her creator only wanted to protect them, and now he’s gone. What is she supposed to do?)

It’s a slow thing, respect. She couldn’t understand why he liked them so much. He spent so much time training her to eventually take care of his crew in his absence… her creation was for them. She didn’t like that.

The four clowns are stupid, brazen. Shade found it hard to see any value in them, and not for lack of trying. She keeps them at arms’ length, a professional attitude about her. She pulls her punches.

Shade watches over the gang, though it’s not like it was back when she was made in D.C. Times change, and she’s innovative about it. Hacking is nothing to her, circuits and wires her flesh and bones.

Dallas, Chains, Wolf and Hoxton make it through seemingly impossible odds time and time again. The new navigator’s surprised by how well they adapt to their bad situation. She didn’t care for them, at first. Shade just went through the motions, unfeeling.

(Her maker was right about the crew being reliable.)

The job was irritating back at the start; now… now she thinks that she could get used to this. Her servers whir and shift as she covers their footprints, quickly and methodically. Shade simultaneously monitors them while sifting through police reports, changing what’s needed. They’re unhappy while on the run, but at least they’re safe.

…It’s an irrational thought, she knows. She just wishes he were around to see them. Shade thinks he would’ve liked that.

#pd3 #shade payday 3 #shade doesn’t know that Bain is alive in a way because he left no records of the secret #she’s an ai that bain created #that’s why she has a lot of his quirks and speech patterns #‘four thieves’ is how the obsidian plate referred to them so I used that #I wrote this before the game came out so forgive

[seoconnect]

Six Things To Consider While Football Betting For Today

Betting might seem very easy but actually, it's not. Betting in certain tournaments being a beginner is like draining money down the vein. And just following professional tipsters won't just help when you personally don't prepare yourself. Since you lack experience and knowledge betting momentarily won't just increase the risk of money loss but give you a bad impression in the betting industry. And that's why today in this blog we decided to highlight 6 things you need to consider while football betting for today.

1. Start with Small Bets

The first thing you need to keep in your mind while betting on football with help betting tips is to start with small bets. When you are inexperienced and have less knowledge, betting on big tournaments is like inviting risk. When you bet big being an amateur, you take the probability of not winning the bet up to 90%. So never bet big being an amateur in the betting industry. 

 2. Focus on Small Events

 Big events might have big prize money but are also filled with a lot of professional competitors. So always focus on small events while football betting for today no matter how confident you feel with your research and studies. If you are betting in EPL make sure to avoid big matches like Manchester derbies, Liverpool derbies, and London derbies.

 3. Understand League, Team, And Players

 The foremost thing you need to keep in mind before betting on football is to gather knowledge on the league, teams, and players. You might think selections given by professionals are enough to win big prize money, but you are very wrong. Using such tips identify the league and its format along with clubs and their players. So focus on understanding the league, team, and players before betting. 

 4. Don’t Follow Favotatism

 You definitely have a personal preference when it comes to football. But keeping this favouritism aside would be a smart decision for you regarding football. Suppose you are an Aston Villa Fc fan and very one-sided regarding Philippe Coutinho since he is the best man in your team. But you are now betting on a match between Manchester City and Aston Villa where you need to pick an attacking mid. Should you choose Coutinho over De Bruyne? Absolutely not!

 5. Understand Football Betting Profit Model

 One of the crucial factors of football betting is the profit model. And that’s another important thing you need to keep in your mind while betting on football betting for today.  In order to make the best decisions when you bet on sports you need to understand how the sportsbooks make money.

 6. Treat Football Betting like a Business

 If you want to succeed as a sports bettor, you need to start treating it like a business instead of a hobby. Businesses have a budget, track their results, learn from their mistakes, and try to make profitable decisions in every area of the business.

So here are the 6 major things you need to consider while football betting for today. Now immediately visit our website to get daily football betting tips.

#Football Tips For Today #Football Betting Tips Today #Football Betting For Today

[connellnordentoft65]

An effective online marketing promotion is essential to the continued well being associated with a company, so it is crucial that you are aware of how you can take full advantage of your advertising initiatives. By taking advantage of the proven techniques and strategies in this post, it is possible to showcase your web business efficiently.

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#resin ribbon

[lovee-infected]

hi hi!!! i love your vil analysis post!! just wondering though...why does vil force epel to do traditionally “cute, feminine” things. i get that it’s, like, to counter neige for the vdc, but it kind of goes against vil’s ideology? like, how i see it, vil advocates for people to express themselves how they want without being bound by gender roles. i feel like if epel tried forcing his manliness ideology onto other people, he’d be justified in his “forcing epel to do cute things” plan, but i don’t think epel has ever shamed feminine guys? he just wants to be manly himself. could this be an allusion to how the evil queen turned ugly just to fulfill her goals? vil going against his core ideals and becoming “ugly” just to win?

Glad you enjoyed it dear! As for your question, I believe that'll be better if I go into details because I've seen many asking similar questions regarding chapter 5, and I guess that's causing some misunderstandings towards both Vil and Epel. Well, we're soon getting the rest of the Pomefiore Chapter, so I guess it's the best time for an analysis on Epel and Vil's relationship and how Chapter 5 has been going so far

First off, let me state something really really important about the Pomefiore chapter, this arc has got pretty wild spirits that are quite new compared to the previous chapters. We've got Neige, the first RSA character to appear as a real rival of a NRC student, Vil and Epel's rough relationship, Ace and Deuce joining MC on the new adventure once again and finally, the VDC: an event with is potentially important to not only the whole NRC but also Twisted Wonderland!

While all fans are surely excited to see what we'll be going through next, there are quite a few of misunderstandings and wrong interpretations that are considerably important regarding the Pomefiore chapter. In order to avoid possible dramas and more misinterpretions between the fans, let's try to take a better look at this Chapter and important Pomefiore hints that we've got so far:

(1)Epel's feelings; the most important element of chapter 5

One of the quite brilliant facts about Chapter 5, is the unique presence of characters and their roles in the story. This might seem quite unrecognizable, but right now Epel's appearance is effecting the audience way more than Vil's! This arc is mainly focusing on making the audience feel his pain and hard time, and I can say that they're doing it pretty well! We'll talk about how his feelings are being presented in part (6). Now, you may wonder why his feelings are so important in the Pomefiore arc? Isn't it supposed to be mostly about Vil? Well of course, the story is most likely leading us to Vil's overblot so he's the heart of this chapter, but the important thing is too see how crucial Epel's role is here. Watching how Epel is in pain, silenty crying and forced into doing something that he doesn't want to by Vil is savagely effecting this fandom's interpretation of Vil, some are commenting on how he's the worst or how horrible he is or hundreds of not really friendly critiques which is awfully frustrating... We'd continue to talk about this point in part (5)!

(2) Epel's relationship with Vil

Let's review what we've got through the side stories. To begin with, Epel obviously doesn't really like Vil, (I'm trying to cooperate and not say that he hates him) he didn't appreciate having him as the dorm leader from the very beginning. But he's got some strong reasons to dislike Vil so we can't really blame him:

1)Vil slapped him all of a sudden just because of his poor posture at the dinner table 2)Vil almost crashed Epels head between his hands while teaching him some manners 3)Vil's idealistic are just the opposite of Epel's 4)Vil is trying to change Epel, especially during chaptet 5. It sometimes feels like Vil is treating Epel like his puppet and Epel doesn't appreciate this all.

At the end of his SR lab story Epel stated how he's going to study his hardest in magic and potions, so maybe at some point he'd beat Vil, which goes to prove that he considers Vil a rival.

"Why is it so though? Isn't this pretty risky for Epel to challenge Vil, especially as Vil is a dorm leader and Epel's just a first year who's still an amateur at magic?"

Farewell, let me mention something about Epel, he's got a really strong will to the point of not giving up until proving everyone wrong. He's often looked down on, is called to be useless and dumb, and is sometimes insulted for being innocent and naïve. True, he still has a lot he needs to learn and he's aware, but he won't take being underestimated easily.

Just look at him! He's been raised in a farm and he still found his way to this school filled with stunning students coming from noble families while Epel is a simple country boy! He proved the point to us once again in his lab coat story where Crewel gave him an impossible task just to push him into giving up and coming to apologize afterwards. When Epel realized that he was just tricked by Crewel, he felt quite frustrated and started to cry, yet he didn't give up and used his personal experiments and what he'd learned back in his farm life and paved his road to success and impressing everyone including Crewel!

This is why he isn't backing up now, he doesn't want and isn't going to lose to Vil. Another important reason might be how Vil seems to have control over Epel, his manners, his attitude, the way he looks and basically, the person Epel is. Epel has indirectly said that Vil may be currently bounding his actions and life, but someday this will change. He mentioned similar lines several times and you can see he really has a strong will to prove everyone, especially Vil, that he's not a cute apple boy to sit still and look pretty. And if he's been waiting for the right time to stand against Vil, chapter 5 has got it. In part (7) you'll see why.

(3)What is happening in chapter 5?

Okay before we continue, let's just focus on what we've got in Pomefiore chapter: This year's vocal and dance championship has an unbelievable amount of media focused on it , because two of the world-famous influencers,Vil Schoenheit & Neige Leblanche, are joining. Both are great influencers and talented designers, but recently Neige has been getting really popular through the social media and TV, thus Vil realizes that the time to face his well-known rival, Neige, has come.

The VDC is no joke to him because hundreds of people are coming to watch this competition between two Celebrities, and his career is surely at risk. If the VDC doesn't go as well as he's planned, that'll be an end to his fame and clout, possibly his whole career! Therefore he has to make sure that nothing is going to ruin his plans for the big day, and that's why he is going to use his ultimate weapon, the red poisoned apple. Note that this isn't just about Vil, it's about protecting NRC's clout against RSA as well, so losing the VDC would seriously effect NRC's picture throughout the whole twisted wonderland. So a really important part of NRC's future is relying on Vil's hands right now.

Look, unlike the previous chapters, Vil's story is about nothing fictional or exaggerated; it's something that's pretty normal to see in real life! Two famous fashion designers joining a competition, both are giving in their best, aren't planning to lose, are going to be awfully strict towards training their models and making sure that nothing would be messed up, and are SERIOUS about winning because losing it to the other side would end in losing their clout and having the reports of their unfortunate fall-down spread worldwide.

Unlike the previous overblots, Vil's strictness and seriousness has NOTHING to do with being evil or crazy, he's just doing what he's supposed to be doing, working his hardest to defend his career. Anyone else who were in Vil's shoes would've done the same, and nothing about it chaotic, heartless or mad. His being pretty strict towards Epel because he's his main hope, Epel is the perfect beauty material and is definitely capable of achieving all the best through the VDC, that's why Vil's counting on him. Just as a fashion designer is strict with training their model, Vil is all serious with his way of couching Epel. And it's just about being professional, not being evil!

(4) It's not about Vil, it's about Epel

This is more of a continuation to part (3), but let's talk seriously about how wrong chapter 5 is being interpreted. "Vil is the worst! Can't he see that Epel doesn't want this?" or "Ew gross! People like Vil who use others for their very own benefits are just horrible" are some of the aggressive comments I've recently heard about how Vil is doing in Chapter 5, which is mainly because of Epel. I mentioned that Epel's feelings are most important element of chapter 5 and this is why!! Vil isn't doing anything that savage or mean but his actions seem to be a lot more appealing to fans due to how Epel's frustration and pain is being focused on. It's not because of Vil, it's because of Epel. Vil had been just the same with Leona back in the fairy gala event and most of the fans considered the story to be much of a comedy, but when Vil's treating Epel just the same way it sounds mean, cruel, harsh and heartless. See what I meant? Epel's presence was crucial to give Vil an evil perspective and make him seem just as bad as Azul or Leona.

I'm not defending his action since Epel as well is surely under a serious pressure. He doesn't even want to be joining the VDC, let alone having to follow all these strict rules that Vil's been teaching him so far. But since Epel forcedly made the deal with Vil and promised to help him for the VDC, there's no turning back now. Vil is counting on him as his very last hope and is putting his hardest of work and effort into training Epel, just like any professional fashion designer would've done.

(5)Vil is NOT the Evil Queen!

As for Vil's biggest difference with the Evil Queen, I must say that Vil does really work his hardest for what he desires. Evil Queen simply wanted Snow White dead while we've got Vil, working his ass off preparing everything for the VDC. He isn't just going to get mad and envies of Neige because his becoming popular, he doesn't want Neige dead either. All Vil has been doing so far was working and working and working and getting to be called cruel and heartless in return, I mean can't you just feel the amount of effort and nerve he's giving into work?

See, a considerable majority of the fandom is exaggerating the story of chapter 5 while Vil hasn't even shown a simple sign of having any ill intentions or evil plans in mind! We don't know what is going to happen i the next episodes but let's say that he hasn't done a single evil thing so far.

Just take a look at previous chapters! Leona was openly planning to unfairly harm and injure other students and Azul fooled nearly 200 students, took away their magic and forced them to work for him in Mostrolounge until they graduate from the very beginning. Heartslabyul and Scarabia weren't as severe as these two but they still did have some sort of a visibly unhealthy aura. Vil's current impression as the villain of chapter 5 is high-kay normal and chill compared to the previous chapters as he literally has done nothing evil so far, NOTHING. Most of the fandom is currently giving him the malicious aura that he doesn't have, or at least he doesn't yet have. Look, Vil's just doing his job. This doesn't even have anything to do with the Evil Queen! Also, Vil's rival ship with Neige has nothing to do with beauty, it's about fame, net-worth and popularity.

We don't know if he'd come up with any ill plans or serious intentions to harm Neige or anyone else in the new episodes, but his current impression in nothing more than going hard on Epel as his coach which is just being overly exaggerated by the fandom. A real life fashion designer would've done JUST the same thing! I know that this story is most likely going to end in Vil's overblot and him revealing his inner villain but come on, he hasn't done anything horrible so far!

(6)How Epel is being presented through Chapter 5

This point is the cause of many misunderstandings and confusions regarding Chapter 5, many find the context of Epel being forced to do what he doesn't like so cruel, some on the other hand are confused becaused Vil has clearly stated that his terms of beauty are gender neutral, so why would he force Epel to do these in the first place? As I said before, it's because of Epel, not Vil.

When it comes to perspectives on beauty, Epel's idealistics are just the opposite of Vil's. Look, Epel hates being mistaken with a girl or being considered soft and cute, this is something that has been bothering him for quite a long time. Being misgendered because of his appearance all over his life has had some negative effects on his perspective toward anything cute or feminine, as it just reminds him as how he often gets misunderstood because of his unwanted appearance and cuteness. Epel is awfully similar to Deuce and wants nothing more than getting to reveal the manliness he's holding within, through not only tastes but also abilities.

This is why he's been feeling quite uncomfortable in chapter 5 because Vil's basically pushing him into doing what he hates the most, looking cute and, well, something that Epel would consider feminine. The thing is, Vil does not consider stuff like 'Being able to sing beautifully, performing eye-catching movements voice, wearing stunning clothes and applying makeup' feminine at all, to Vil these are gender neutral terms of beauty and he doesn't get why Epel might consider them girlish or feminine either. Epel's comment on not wanting to do girlish things sounded naïve and low key rude to Vil because beauty isn't bound to being male or female, and he doesn't appreciate the idea of these works being called girlish at all.

This is neither Epel nor Vil's fault, it's just the difference in idealistics.

(7) Vil's on thin ice right now

Let me tell you a secret, 'choosing Epel to become the red poisoned apple wasn't an accidental act AT ALL'. Vil has been watching over Epel ever since he entered NRC and this is why he was so strict about changing this "Mudded potato" into a well-behaved Pomefiore student. Vil knew Epel's name and had discussed his case with Rook right at Epel's first day, and this is why he treated Epel so harshly at the dinner table because his plan to turn Epel into his red poisoned apple had already begun. He was preparing Epel from the very beginning and was just expecting the big day to arrive, the day he'd need Epel to defeat his rival, Neige.

Remember that I said how Epel's been waiting for a chance to stand against Vil and how Chapter 5 would be his BEST opportunity to do this? Before we explain this point, let's have a review on how Vil has been effecting and changing him so far. During his first days in NRC, Epel was more comfortable with shouting, fighting and opposing to other students including Vil. He used to disagree until Vil slapped him but now in Chapter 5, he doesn't even say a word when Vil tells him to do something, he just silently obeys as tears fall from his eyes. He no longer fights back as much as he used to.

But right now, Vil's career, status and future is bound to Epel. Vil has been working harder than ever trying to turn him into the Red poisoned Apple he's been expecting him to become, and if Epel backs up or decides to ruin the show and stop letting Vil have control over him, that'll seriously make Vil explode. And if you think that Vil deserves to be hurt like this, I gotta say that he doesn't, he seriously doesn't deserve this after all he's been going through. Just imagine being on Gil's shoes, how would you feel about having the result of all that hard work and effort you've given into work for YEARS ruined like this? Look, we need to judge this situation nonetheless, even is you don't really like Vil it's important to realize the unfairness of this possible future to the story.

Epel now has the opportunity to BREAK Vil like no one has ever done, after all Vil has been going through to coach Epel, teach him manners, change his nature and prepare him for the VDC this would certainly be the worst thing that may happen to him and it'll make him mad, like really really mad. The Vil we've seen through the story so far was nothing more than Vil's normal calm self so we can't even imagine how it might be to see him mad. At this point he won't be bound to any manners or consderations, and keep this in mind: "We won't like it when Vil is evil, and we can't imagine how evil he can be,"

I'm honestly so excited and terrified at the same time to see what we'll get to see in the rest of the Pomefiore chapter, the atmosphere is so nerve-wrecking right now and I can't help but to pray that the rest of this story doesn't traumatize us as much as it can- “Yana please, have mercy on us”

#Twst #twisted wonderland #Twst x reader #twisted Wonderland x reader #vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #rook hunt #Pomefiore #character analysis

[wonda-cat]

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind. 

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc. 

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken. 

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable. 

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions. 

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future. 

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way. 

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating. 

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile. 

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development. 

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be. 

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.) 

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.) 

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed. 

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun. 

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance. 

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy. 

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them. 

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side. 

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable. 

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic. 

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy. 

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric. 

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless. 

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment. 

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator. 

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology. 

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.) 

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser. 

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him. 

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice. 

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch. 

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen. 

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate. 

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach. 

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial. 

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault. 

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened? 

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed. 

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly. 

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return. 

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished. 

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self. 

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime. 

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever. 

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans. 

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess. 

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption. 

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously? 

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers. 

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time. 

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.) 

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long. 

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others. 

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary. 

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications. 

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that. 

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another. 

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future. 

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction. 

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story. 

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring. 

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch. 

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.) 

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith. 

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway? 

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place. 

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue. 

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

#answered asks #long post #tommyinnit #dream smp meta #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #this is slightly outdated still but whatever #hope this was helpful anon #tw abuse #tw suicide

[thenightgazer]

Mask of Rapture

When she received an invitation to play at a masquerade party on an infamous cruise ship, Maureen has an unfathomable hunch that something wrong will happen. Between her enchanting violin performance and the glamorous waltz, she encounters a mysterious masked man whom will introduce her to the horror that waits for all the passengers... and a promising passionate night with the devil himself.

Pairing : Vergil x Female Violinist OC/Female Reader

Rating : Explicit

Warning : Rough sex, SDT sex, mild blood, mild gore, blood kink, light dom/sub, exhibitionism, porn with plot

Keep reading or read it on AO3

Lady Midnight is an infamous luxurious cruise ship that sails from Red Grave to Europe continent for five days weekly. It’s known by its exquisite interiors and six-star service, as well as excellent cuisine and impeccable suites. Lady Midnight provides the best and elegant experience of travel curated to satiate the wanderlust of adventurists. The cruise ship is also known to hold a sophisticated dance party in the form of a masquerade party on the night before they reach back to Red Grave. All guests will be dressed up and gathered in the ballroom decorated with classic and stunning architecture, waltzing on the dancefloor until midnight. 

Maureen won’t be here if it wasn’t because of the invitation from the owner of the ship. She received an invitation email and a request to be the guest violinist for the masquerade party in exchange for free vacation on Lady Midnight for five days. She’s no stranger for any invitation from wealthy people to play at their prosperous party, but this is her first time to be invited to a masquerade party. She had prepared a dress and the suitable songs to set the mood and perfect atmosphere for a masquerade ball weeks before departure. 

After days floating on the ocean and discovering breathtaking yachting destinations, finally the big day is coming. 

Maureen has performed countless times on stage, yet she still feels the nauseous gut whenever it comes about public appearance. But somehow, the psychosomatic feeling doesn’t really bother her right now. Maybe it’s because everyone will wear a mask, so she can avoid their curious and prying eyes on her. She’ll have more concentration to do her job. Just one or two hours playing, she reminds herself. Then I’ll enjoy Europe before the ship takes me back to Red Grave. 

Maureen folds her hands on her chest as she observes a white long sleeve maxi cape dress, a pair of heels and a matching colombina mask on the bed. She was thinking of buying some fancier gown, but she finally decided to buy something comfortable to wear because she needs full concentration for the concert rather than paying extra attention to her clothing. Don’t have time to add exaggerated accessories and worry about whether it would look fine on me or not.  

Satisfied with her choice of clothes, Maureen sits in front of the vanity table and begins to put some makeup on her face. She doesn’t put too much since she’s going to wear a mask anyway, so she emphasizes her full lips with mauve lipstick. Then she covers her body with the dress—its front thigh-high slit lifts her confidence. She straps the heels on her feet and puts the mask on to cover half of her face. Not bad, she watches herself in satisfaction while combing her black hair. 

The party will begin approximately in half an hour. Maureen has received an announcement that there will be a briefing before the party starts and all the crew will be gathered. While she’s not part of the crew, she’s still expected to attend as a guest star and part of the orchestra team. She wastes no time anymore and takes her violin case, heading to the ballroom. 

-- 

Maureen senses something wrong since the first time she stepped on the stage. 

She opens her violin case, observing the enticing violin and waits until the patrons of Lady Midnight—Lord and Lady Campbell arrive at the middle of the ball. The wife’s patron is smiling brightly as her husband bows down to ask her for a dance. While the couple are ready for the waltz and the applause from the guests are over, Maureen places the violin to her shoulder tucked under the chin and gives the audience a formal smile before drawing the bow across the strings. She can feel the tense atmosphere around the orchestra team as she starts to move the bow. Drawing the violin bow is like moving the pendulums; throw one and the other pendulums would follow before finally repelling back to the first pendulum. As light as a butterfly lands over the water and flies again at once.  

Shostakovich’s Waltz No. 2 is her first play and everyone’s favorite song in every masquerade ball. The sound of a violin can capture emotions, even the ones that are buried deep in a human's heart. She has seen how humans surrender to the ethereal sound of harmony. They rise at the beginning of the song and fall to the bittersweet emptiness when it’s over, leaving the unfathomable ache in their heart. Which is the reason why Maureen loves violin. It’s like the violin speaks on her behalf. Her way to connect with the world. 

Yet for the first time since a while, Maureen feels a jolt of perturbation come out of nowhere as she takes a glimpse to the crowd, searching for an answer.  

Something is wrong, Maureen is certain about that. But what could it be— 

And that’s when she caught the piercing blue eyes gazing at her behind a golden Venetian mask. 

Curious, because Maureen can’t look away from the man who possesses those eyes. If only she could just ignore him, she would have succeeded to perform the perfect vibrato on the next notes. It wasn’t a fatal mistake, nor that people would’ve noticed the almost flat tone. But she’s a professional violinist. She shouldn’t have made an amateur move just because a man with striking eyes was watching her performance. 

It was him, Maureen stared back at the mysterious man. From the stage, she can vaguely see his silver hair behind the mask. His tall and firm posture are visible, even if he stands between the crowd. All the people in this ballroom wear masks, and it’s odd that she can tell the way he looks at her is different from any other guests. It’s almost like he can see right through me… 

As the patrons end their first dance, the guests make their move and sway to the dancefloor. The man with striking blue eyes disappears amongst the hustle. Maureen doesn’t know what kind of effrontery that consumes her to trail for that man from the corner of her eyes during the seamless transition she made to the next song. Gundry’s The Vampire Masquerade is probably her most favorite piece. The scandalous and fiendish tunes are extremely apt for this Halloween masquerade, and her prediction was right: the guests spin their body faster and swirl their illustrious and extravagant fabrics as if they’re hypnotized by the melody. 

It’s hard for Maureen to find the mysterious man amongst the sea of eminent painting. 

Who is he? Maureen asks herself. I sense something dangerous about him. 

The dark and lustrous atmosphere lasts for one hour. When Maureen finally rests her hands, she can feel how tired she is. But it wasn’t because of her playing, it’s the unsettling feeling that constantly lingers all over the ballroom. She bows and smiles as the guests give their applause and appraisal before she takes her leave from the stage, blending in the crowd while the orchestra team continue their job. Lady Campbell welcomes her at the food section. She and a group of women in Victorian gowns hand her a glass of champagne and toasting for the success of the masquerade party. 

“Miss Graves, was it? I’ve never seen such a divine and elegant performance! I was never an enthusiastic dancer until you tune your violin and enchanted us!” The woman in a red mask greets Maureen. Her glass is trembling a bit when she continues her appraisal. Maybe she’s drunk already, Maureen keeps her smile still as she thanks all the compliments from the women and observes the group’s chatter. They talk about recent destinations, some inconveniences of Lady Midnight’s service, gossip about some influential guests, and finally the one that caught Maureen’s attention; a disturbing issue that there could be a demon on this ship. 

“My husband and I have a great concern regarding Lady Midnight’s security. He recruited the best security team and mercenaries to protect this ship. You don’t have to worry about the thing. They guard us until we’re back to Red Grave tomorrow.” Lady Campbell reassures the worried women, but Maureen can hear a degree of hesitation from her words. 

“Mercenaries?” Maureen asks cautiously. 

A woman in purple gown taps her shoulder. “You know, devil hunters.” 

The women let out exaggerated gasps. 

“It’s for precaution, of course,” Lady Campbell interrupts. “With the tragedy of a mysterious tree that happened three years ago, we can’t let our guard down anymore.” 

“Agreed! Besides, we sailed for almost five days and there’s no update about the demon or whatever it is!” the woman in purple gown convinces them, taking a side with Lady Campbell. 

“But Mrs. Tyrell, I swear I heard something hissing from the room beside me!” the woman in yellow mask shivers. “On the first night I thought it was just the sound of the sea, but last night I’m sure that it was something else. I’m not imagining things! Even my husband heard that too!” 

“You’re not the only one who said that,” the woman in the golden lace mask agrees. “I heard Baron and Baroness Powell complain about the noisy sound from their room’s ceiling. They said it felt like there’s a snake up there! Could it be a demon? For God’s sake, we can’t even breathe for a second because those monsters are everywhere!” 

The woman in green lace gown, whom Maureen considers to be the most beautiful than the rest of them, laughs at their worries. “Nonsense! Let’s not disrespect our patron’s kindness and just enjoy this party! If Lady Campbell said that this ship is safe, then it is!” 

The other women seem to disagree with that unbelievable cheerful reassurance. But the patron’s wife exclaims her agreement, despite her forceful fake smile and excitement. “Miss Malia was right! Let us continue to live up this ball. Let me show you our rare collection of paintings in this ballroom. Miss Graves, please come join us!” 

Maureen shakes her hand, even though the group shows their interest for her to join them. “I think I will stay a while for more champagne. Enjoy the tour, my ladies.” 

The group bids their farewell, much to Maureen’s pleasure. She takes one more glass of champagne from the tray and swallows a half of it. The unsettling feeling is stronger after she heard the possible demon issue. That man. Was it him? Is he a demon? Maureen has seen demons in her life, but she can’t comprehend why she didn’t feel the same dangerous atmosphere as she was when she caught the mysterious man’s eyes… 

… like she does right now. 

The man is very much taller than she expected. His clothes show off the gallant and menacing impression; a dark blue ascot wrapped around his neck and black vest under black three-tailed coat with silver serpent patterns runs around the collar. His hands were covered by dark fingerless gloves. His black pants and gaiter boots emphasize his beautiful and toned legs. His face is covered in a simple golden Venetian mask, giving a contrast to his dark attire. Even without looking behind that mask, Maureen knows that this man must be gorgeous, and now he’s approaching her. 

Oh God. It’s too late to run away. 

The man hands her his hand. “My lady.” 

Maureen hesitates, but it’s rude to ignore someone’s good intention. If only he really had a good intention to me, she smiles as she lets him give a light kiss on her palm. 

“I must say that your violin performance was magnificent. It’s been a while since the last time I saw such a splendid performance.” The man’s husky voice is irresistible. He speaks in a calm and posh mannerism, yet the voice sends the chill down to Maureen’s spine. Moreover, she feels a strange heat rush inside her body. She looks at her glass, pondering if it was the alcohol did its trickery. 

“Thank you. It was my pleasure to entertain the guest as well,” Maureen responds at the praise formally as usual. “Although I have to say, it’s my first time playing in a masquerade party.” 

“Hard to believe that it’s your first time, with that eloquent violin play of yours. This ball finds its life thanks to you.” 

“You’re too flattering, Sir.” 

Maureen hears a chuckle behind the man’s mask. She’s so nervous that she imitates his chuckle out of courtesy. “Do you fancy champagne, Sir? I can get you—” 

“Please, no need to offer me a drink. I’ve been told that the champagne is extraordinary, but I prefer not to drink.” 

“Can’t stand alcohol?”  

“I’m afraid so.” 

“No way!” She doesn’t know where this audacity to tease him comes from. It must be the champagne, Maureen convinces herself.  

The man chuckles again as he offers his hand. “Instead of drinking, I’d be honored if my lady doesn’t mind me asking for a dance.” 

Maureen stares at his hand before taking a glance to the dancing floor. She notices the orchestra team is playing Gundry’s Tonight Ve’ Dance. I like this song, Maureen admits half-heartedly, but… this stranger… “I’m not particularly good at dancing.” she laments at her poor excuse. 

“I can teach you,” Maureen can sense that he’s smiling as she catches a warmer gaze from the man’s eyes. “You will catch up in no time, I believe that.” 

This man is persistent. Knowing that it’s useless to refuse his offer, she accepts his hand. Maureen observes the mysterious silver-haired man who leads her to the middle of festivity. He nods as he wraps his right hand on Maureen’s waist and his other hand reaches her hand. That little gesture surprises her and she doesn’t know why. She finds it hard to just breathe, sensing his fixated eyes on her lenient body in a strange, intimate way. 

And it takes her whole bravery to finally put her left hand on his broad shoulder. 

Neither one of them say a word as the man guides her tenderly in tune to the music. Maureen follows his movement thoroughly, stepping her left feet forward and backward. Their masked faces are facing each other, as if they are seeking answers from their unspeakable question. He raises their entangled hands, and she twirls gracefully before he holds her body, pulling her ever close to his embrace again when she turns around to face him again. 

“Strange,” he remarks. “You’re unexpectedly a quick learner. Viennese waltz is quite tough for beginners.” 

Thank God I wear a mask right now. “You must be an outstanding teacher then.” 

“Quite the contrary, I believe you have talent in dancing,” the man chuckles. His caresses on Maureen’s back are subtle, yet it’s a sensuous one. “A natural one, apparently.” 

Maureen can’t hide her canny smirk. “Alright then. I must confess that I was lying when I said I’m not good at dancing.” 

The man moves his head forward, his mouth murmurs a whisper to the shell of her ear. “I knew that already, Miss Graves.” 

The radiating warmth from the man’s layers of cloth sends a tingle of strange desire through Maureen at the touch. She clings to him tighter than before, not willing to avoid his cold blue eyes, not even dare to breathe for fear that he might notice her heated, sacrilegious desire. She was never attracted to strangers, until this man showed up and broke her rules. Her little white lie is just fueling the tension between them; his seems intrigued by the lie, but he says nothing. Instead he continues the dance as if he never heard her confession. His gaze indicates his attraction to her, witnessing how delicate she moves between his strong arms. Given their contrast vibes from their dances, anyone could mistake them as an angel and a devil—one is graceful and delicate in white gown, while the other one sparks perilous seduction in dark attire. 

“You haven’t mentioned your name.” Maureen confesses her curiosity. 

“I thought you would never ask,�� he says lightly. “You can call me Vergil.” 

“Vergil…” she mumbles the man’s name. Her vision drifts away as a brief memory resides in her head for a while. “Where did I hear that name before…?” 

“If you’re familiar with Dante’s Divine Comedy, you’d find my name mentioned plenty of times there.” 

“I know that. But I heard that name recently…” 

“Perhaps from poetry. Aeneid is Virgil’s infamous work.” 

“I know! But… no... not from poetry.” she doubts herself. She’s certain that she heard his name somewhere else.  

“Memories are dangerous things, Miss Graves. It could help you or betray you.” 

“Then it’s best to leave it be,” Maureen twirls ecstatically and leaning back against Vergil’s chest. “Mr. Vergil, I believe today is the first time I see you since the first day of voyage.” 

“I’ve been working behind the scene,” Vergil covers her small hands with his arms. “For the sake of this ship’s safety.’ 

Maureen tilts her head over him. “You’re one of the mercenaries?” 

“Why, Miss Graves. I presumed Lady Campbell had told you.” 

A rush of dread fills Maureen’s veins right after Vergil’s disclosure. 

“Lord Campbell contacted me two weeks ago,” he continues, his eyes trace on Maureen’s sudden discomfort. “Rumors about sea monsters sends him on his edge.” 

“Did you… find any demons then?” 

Vergil pulls her hand gently to make her face him. His words are certain and undeniable, chilling her to the marrow. “Yes.” 

Maureen stops her moves at once, barely breathing and unable to think clearly. So, here’s why his presence terrifies me. Each of her nerves are screaming, forcing her to just escape him. But he seems to expect this reaction—he squeezes her hand and waist gently, with eyes linger to her bitten lips as if he prevents her from running away. “Have you heard rumors spoken by the guests? They said they heard slither and croaky hissing every midnight. I found a body devil hunter who was supposed to work with me in his room—his bones were salient because his blood was drained like a mummy. And this morning, Madame Cross’s little baby is paralyzed. He’s still alive, but unable to wake from his sleep. I believe the demon is currently in this ballroom with us.” 

Maureen’s jolt of shock gives Vergil his answer to his unspeakable question. He continues to step forward, followed by Maureen who is trying to hide her fear by her steady steps. She accidentally steps on Vergil’s toe, which Vergil just laughs casually at it. His crisp laugh sounds lethal in her ears, as if the Death itself were laughing at her. Maureen’s brain can’t cope with dreadful terror she’s facing right now. She grips onto Vergil’s shoulders, slightly clawing his fine coat. 

Of course, Vergil notices this as he stops moving, lifting Maureen’s chin in a tender way.  “You look rather pale, my lady. Am I scaring you?” 

She shakes her head immediately. “I’m fine. I just wondered… do you have a name for that demon in your mind?” 

Vergil nods, glancing at the crowd as the orchestra team has stopped the music and people give them applause. “I’m certain that there are almost twenty Lamias lurking around the ball.” 

Lamia? Maureen gasps with eyes wide open. Twenty Lamias? Why can’t I feel their presence—wait, this man… he doesn’t know that I am— 

“Impressive. They hide themselves quite well. It’s difficult to notice their presence. But now their patience has worn out. They won’t wait anymore. It should be easy, yet…” he continues, holding both of Maureen’s palm and lifting them to meet his tantalizing lips. “I need more time to figure out what you are.” 

He… knows? 

Just right when the question was about to leave the tip of Maureen’s tongue, the unforeseen power outage shocked all the passengers. The baffling voices spread through the room, shouting questions and complaints. Maureen can hear Lord Campbell’s raging yell to his employees and demands them to turn on the power at instant. In the middle of this uproar, she’s surprised by a comforting feeling from the presence of Vergil, whose arms are covering her body. It’s almost like he’s protecting her, despite their previous austere tension. The dark always calms her, yet she can’t really enjoy it now, for she knows that this power outage was intentional. “It’s them, right?” 

“Apparently so,” Vergil agrees. “I can even hear them snarling right now.” 

“But why now…?” 

“A room full of prey is perfect for feasting, don’t you think so?” 

It sounds like he throws me sarcasm. “I… don’t know…” Maureen loses her words. 

The light turns on, followed by relieved sighs from the guests. But it doesn’t last, for a ghastly scream of a woman deafens the entire ballroom. The crowd circles between her, witnessing her howl of anguish over a mummified, dead body of a masked man under her extravagant Edwardian dress. Such a horrid view, raising a ruckus among the guests. Another petrifying scream comes followed by demonic roars. Some guests turn into monstrous snake-like demons while melting their human skins. They feast on whoever closest nearby, sucking their blood and clawing out their eyes before they gulp it down. 

“Mr. Vergil!” Lord Campbell arrives from nowhere. Clearly, he doesn’t look very happy when he sees Vergil just stand still with Maureen. “What are you doing there?! THEY SLAUGHTER ALL OF MY GUESTS!” 

Vergil chaffs mockingly at the cruise ship’s patron. “But it was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You and your Lamia lover. Do you really think you can fool me, Lord Campbell?” 

Confusion clouds on Lord Campbell’s face as he startles when Vergil summons a katana out of thin air. He unleashes it from the scabbard, pointing the tip of the blade to the patron. “Go. Run for your life. I will find you soon after I exterminate those abominable demons.” 

As expected, Lord Campbell runs away, ditching and pushing people around him like a tortured animal. Maureen was about to chase him, but Vergil grabs her shoulder. “Find Lady Campbell. Keep her safe.” 

“But you said he and his Lamia lover—” 

“Lady Campbell is not the Lamia queen. I know that for sure. The queen is somewhere here. I’ll go find her once I slay her subordinates,” Vergil draws his sword, glaring at a Lamia that taunts him and cuts its head in a single slash. “Can I count on you, Miss Graves?” 

Maureen can sense how dangerous and powerful Vergil is just by witnessing how he killed the Lamia. He isn’t a human. I’m sure of it. I cannot imagine how terrifying it must be… to be at his complete mercy. The katana… was forged in darkness. Just like me. 

She finally gives him a nod. Her hand reaches into her thigh-high slit of her dress, pulling out a handgun she always brings with her wherever she goes. It is loaded, but she doesn’t bring more ammunition in case the situation gets worse than she had imagined. “Then I can count on you to demolish those snakes, Mr. Vergil.” 

“Certainly, Miss Graves.” 

“Call me Maureen.” 

Vergil gives her a final grin before he goes at a speed of light to the hustle. 

Although she’s still in awe from witnessing Vergil’s superhuman speed, Maureen takes a haste to find Lady Campbell. She rushes to the east side of the ballroom, where Lady Campbell was last seen. She shudders when she sees a pile of mummified women bodies, which a moment ago was the group of women she had encountered for champagne. Maureen aims her gun at a woman in green gown who pins and chokes Lady Campbell to the wall. “Put her down, Miss Malia.” 

The queen of Lamia hisses at her, chuckling in croaky laughter. “Well, well, if it isn’t our lovely violinist.” 

“I should’ve realized it. Your choice of alias is terrible.” 

“Yet people didn’t notice,” the Lamia queen drops Lady Campbell, leaving her coughing breathlessly. “Pitiful humans. I promised Lord Campbell prosperous life and money because he’s about to be penniless, only if he gives me humans as sacrifice. He said this pathetic ship was his last chance, and he’s right. Tonight, there will be no humans left in this ship—” 

A bullet comes through her chest before she encloses her words. Maureen puts a finger on the trigger again. “You finished?” 

“My dear, look at you,” Lamia queen slowly pads to Maureen. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a human. Why bother protecting them? We can work together, you know that.” 

Maureen pulls the trigger right to the queen’s forehead. “I’m not interested.” 

The Lamia queen bursts out laughing. Her clothes are torn apart, skins melt and reveals her beautiful human face turns into her original bestial face. Her fangs lengthen as her lower body transforms into a gigantic snake body. The wound on her head heals quickly in just a second. “My dear, you should use a silver bullet.” 

She’s right. I left my silver ammo in my room. “I can still kill you.” 

“How? There’s no silver in this ship. Campbell threw it all to the ocean.” 

“And you believe he checked all the rooms? That’s far-fetched.” 

“At least in this room. Doesn’t matter. You're all going to die here anyway.” 

The queen charges an attack to Maureen, but the violinist is quicker. She repels the attack and launches the bullet to the queen’s head again, this time is calmer and takes a precise move to bait the queen to the stage. Fucking heels, she takes off her shoes while evades insistent strikes from Lamia queen. The ballroom seems a little bit spacious since most of the guests are running out from the room and the rest are dead, or still trying to escape this madness. She catches Vergil’s tall and firm stature in the middle of the dance floor, swinging his sword in remarkable versatility. His attack is quick and precise while keeping his distance from a pack of Lamia, not even a drop of Lamia’s blood can reach him. His fighting movement is like dancing, ponders Maureen as she observes him unleashes rapid slashes with a vortex of purple-blue energy that instantly kills all the Lamia around him. She can’t even see when he unsheathes his sword and puts it back to the scabbard again. 

“Where are you looking at, girl? I’m right here!” the Lamia queen taunts her; her yellowed eyes turn darker, an evidence of her hunger and eagerness to feast on Maureen. 

A light smile appears on Maureen’s face as she keeps firing the queen. “Oh, I forgot you’re still here.” 

Almost here, Maureen jumps to the wrecked stage and searches her violin case viciously. Still intact and undamaged! 

“Oh, poor Miss Graves…” the Lamia queen hisses, enjoying Maureen’s confusion. “Ran out of bullets?” 

“I don’t need that anymore,” Maureen tosses her gun to Lamia’s head, raising the queen’s anger while she slithers faster to where Maureen stands right now with an unnatural crave to kill the violinist. Keeping her calm and composed mind together, Maureen draws her violin bow with anticipation. I hope this is going to work. Can’t rely on Vergil right now… 

“DIE!” the Lamia queen attacks in an ambush, wrapping herself around Maureen’s body and squeezing it tighter as Maureen tries to escape. 

“You should have accepted my invitation earlier, Miss Graves,” the Lamia queen giggles unpleasantly. “Maybe I could spare you, even letting you eat those humans.” 

“I… don’t eat… human flesh,” Maureen pants. 

“Pity. Then I shall—AAAARRGHH!” 

The tight wrap around Maureen’s body loosens gradually as the Lamia queen screams in agony. “Wretched human! How dare you stab me?!” 

Maureen, still adjusting her breath, raises her violin bow. “It's a silver mounted bow, bitch.” 

Despite the pain from her perforated tail, The Lamia queen still manages to launch another attack even though it’s getting slower. Maureen keeps stabbing her with the violin bow, piercing its grip to the demon’s body as much as she can. The amount of silver in the winding is too little, but it’s better than nothing. The Lamia queen forces her to leave the stage again, her sloppy movement causes her hand to bleed by the sharpness of the bow hair. 

“You cannot defeat me with that flimsy stick of yours!” the Lamia queen declares assertively. Black, thick blood is spilled from holes that Maureen has created on the beast’ body, yet she shows no signs of surrender. 

“I know,” Maureen admits wholeheartedly, eyes fixate on the snake demon in front of her and points the violin bow to her direction. “But he can.” 

Even before the Lamia queen could figure Maureen’s words, a sharp blade passes through the queen’s chest as she wails in suffering, looking at a fatal wound on her chest. 

“Don’t get so cocky,” the man in a golden Venetian mask warns the queen. “Now, you’re going down.” 

He pulls back his sword before he swings it again to decapitate the Lamia queen, leaving no chance for the demon to revive her body once and for all. Its headless body falls motionless, ending the terror on the ship. Maureen looks up at Vergil, who’s still clean from Lamia's blood, contrasting to her blood-soaked dress. She was going to greet him, only if Vergil didn’t look at her in a poignant way. She wonders why Vergil stares at her with that look—a curious, intrigued gaze that makes her feel like she’s naked. 

When she glances at a wall of mirror, she gets her answer. Her mask is gone, leaving her face exposed entirely. But that’s not her main concern. 

Her onyx eyes are now as red as blood. 

Vergil sees it, and he still hasn’t sheathed his sword. 

He’s going to kill me. 

“Miss Graves!” 

Maureen quickly blinks her eyes, transforming her red eyes to her original black ones as Lady Campbell, now without her mask, runs at her hastily. She’s accompanied by security team and sea marshals, asking if she’s hurt anywhere and thanking her for her help. The medics has arrived to heal the guests. The security crew rush into the ballroom and shout at the undamaged survivor to come back to their room while they clean up the mess. Maureen has no choice but follows Lady Campbell heading out from the ballroom, pestering at Maureen’s wounded palm. She turns her head back at Vergil, who’s still staring at her while giving reports to the marshals, consumed by either curiosity or desire to kill her. 

Maybe both, Maureen’s body begins to tremble in fear, without hope for the devil hunter to spare her life. 

-- 

The cruise ship returns to normal and quiet soon after the marshals arrest Lord Campbell, who was about to jump to the ocean before the marshals caught him. Lady Campbell had told Maureen about the arrest, and how her husband went hopeless because his company is going bankrupt. He started to constantly beat up his wife and abandon his responsibilities, but Lady Campbell had never spared any thought about the lord would gone too far as sealing a pact with Lamia and intended to sacrifice all passengers, including herself. 

That was when she told Maureen how grateful she was for having Vergil on board, which reminds her again about Vergil’s threatening demeanor. 

Once Maureen had left Lady Campbell’s room to let her rest, she rushes to her own room. All passengers are obliged to stay in their rooms until Lady Midnight arrives on Red Grave to prevent any danger while the crews continue to maintain the safety of the ship. Most of the passengers have already stated that they will sue this ship once they arrive on Red Grave, which is not surprising since nobody wanted bloodbath on a vacation. Maureen decides to pass the crowd by hiding in the shadow, letting herself blended with the darkness… until she becomes one with the dark and travels between the shadows into her room. 

She doesn’t bother to turn the light on and makes her way to the bathroom, ripping her bloody dress off and taking a shower. Her wounded palm hurts a little when the water drips on it. Lady Campbell asked her to go to the medic, but Maureen refused. All she needs right now is time for herself. She needs to think how to escape this ship before Vergil finds her. Perhaps I could hide in the shadow again until it’s safe, Maureen muses as she wraps a bathrobe over her body. He won’t realize it. He said he still needs to figure out what kind of creature I am… 

A vibrating, almost inaudible knock comes from the windows balcony, startling Maureen to her aghast. Vergil is there, comes out of nowhere while Maureen thinks she’s safe right now. Her body is freezing, and can't even think about any anticipation especially when she spots Vergil is still holding his sheathed katana. She knows Vergil will find out her room soon, but she never thought he would find this soon. He says something to her, but the window is soundproof. Not that she wanted to open the window for him. It’s not too late to shadow travel, Maureen checks on the room’s surrounding, ignoring Vergil’s persistent knocks. 

Flashy blue light from the window distracts her concentration. Vergil sends his sword off to the thin air. He raises both of his hands as a sign of peace. His mouth moves in a certain shape of words: ‘I’m not here to hurt you. Would you please let me in?’ 

I can’t trust him, Maureen shakes her head. But, he’s a hunter. If I escape now, he will find me again somehow. 

Casting aside her fear, she reaches her hand to the knob, unlocking the window. Must Vergil exhibit any slightest gesture to attack her, she’s ready to escape in the shadow anytime. The man finally comes in, offering his hand to the violinist. “May I see your hand, Maureen? I noticed the bow scratched your left palm.” 

“It’s okay,” Maureen hides her hands behind her back. “What do you want, Mr. Vergil?” 

“Just call me Vergil. No more formality,” Vergil takes one more step closer to her, his hand still waiting for her. “Please, I just want to make sure if you’re okay.” 

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” 

“My lady, I have no slightest idea on how you perceive me as someone who wants to kill you.” 

“You… you know who I am. And you are a devil hunter. I saw your desire to kill me soon after you beheaded the Lamia queen.” 

For a moment, none of them speaks their mind out. They just stand still, eyes trailing on each other, but it’s different from their last encounter. Vergil takes her left hand carefully, this time he receives no resistance from Maureen. He caresses the vertical wound, eyebrows furrowed, as if he feels the pain as well. “You are the first non human being I’ve encountered in this ship.” 

“What?” 

“I thought you were a vampire. Your pale skin and red eyes when in danger or thirst resembles them,” Vergil moves his thumb over the scar. “But you are not a vampire. You walk freely in broad daylight. You didn’t flinch on silver, but you hesitated whenever there’s an iron nearby. Iron doesn’t hurt you, but it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t know what you are at that time, therefore I decided to just keep an eye on you.” 

Maureen lets him cup both of her palms, calmly exhales as she gives him a hint of smirk. “Do you know what I am now, Vergil?” 

“Why, yes,” Vergil gives a peck on the top of Maureen’s palm, then locking her hands on his chest. “I saw you absorbing human’s energy every night when most passengers are asleep. Out there, at your balcony.” 

“That’s impossible! Normal humans can’t see energy form—” 

“But I am not a normal human. I bet I’m the only one in this ship who can see that, since all the Lamia are now dead,” Vergil’s head is slightly lowered, his masked face is still unreadable, yet now it radiates more warmth and… compassion. “You have many names… and I believe humans rarely aware of your presence. Plaksy, krisky, night hag… gorska makva…” 

Maureen finds herself struggling to move as Vergil circles her until he stops right behind her, fingers trailing on Maureen’s tensing shoulders. She feels his hot minty breath getting closer to her ear, whispering his precise statement. 

“… nocnitsa.” 

Fuck. 

The only sound that breaks the silence is just the heavy breathing coming from them. Vergil’s firm and warm hands rest on Maureen’s shoulders before he gives them a small massage as if to ensure her to stay still. His touch makes her flinch, trembling from his unexpected delicious movements. 

“You’re known as a spirit who drains life energy from humans. Sitting on their chest as you suck their energy, causing them experiencing sleep paralysis. Some source said you take a liking to children, because their dreams are richer than adults…” he continues his pressure on her shoulders. “We both know it’s folklore version. Nocnitsa lives by sucking life energy from every living being in every possible way, not just by sitting on their chest. The stronger their emotions and dreams; be it nightmare or pleasant dream, the more strength you’d gain. Greater amount of drained energy can cause nightmares and paralysis to their victim, even death.” 

The vibration of his voice propelling tension throughout Maureen’s body as Vergil presses his entire front body against her back.  

“Evil nocnitsa loves to drain energy until their victim run out of life energy,” Vergil’s lips touch her reddened ear. “They are known to terrorize children in their sleep. Feeding on their dream slowly...” 

Maureen tries her best to form a sentence. “Madame Cross’ baby—it wasn’t me. I’m not that heartless—” 

“I know,” his finger lingers on Maureen’s lips, caressing it to slightly open her mouth. “The baby woke up once the Lamia queen was slayed. Apparently, Madame Cross realized that her baby’s paralysis happened after a teatime with Miss Malia, the queen’s human form. My best guess is that the baby was sensitive to evil presence and the queen casted a spell to put him to long slumber, perhaps to silence him or eat him later.” 

“T-that’s horrid…” Maureen’s voice is barely recognizable, carefully moving her lips without accidentally bite Vergil’s finger while she’s captured between Vergil’s embrace. “But… Vergil… who are you…?” 

“Me?” he chuckles darkly. “I’m a cambion.” 

Human and demon’s offspring? No way. Could it be… “Vergil… one of the sons of Sparda?” 

His short hum says it all.  

That’s why his name sounds familiar to me. And no wonder I feel danger whenever he’s around. Such an odd circumstance to have him here… capturing me in my own room… 

Vergil nips her earlobe lightly, raising the unyielding pressure in her throbbing core. She can hear his removed mask falling on the floor as she automatically turns to face him, but he stops her. His hand rested on her nape, asserting his control and dominance. 

“I want to see you.” Maureen breathes heavily. 

“Not yet,” Vergil declines steadily. 

He lowers his index finger from her nape, trailing a slow and subtle stroke up the center of her spine. Maureen nods slightly at his refusal, surrenders completely to his touches. His finger ends on her stomach, exactly at the bathrobe’s belt... 

“May I have you, Maureen?” he purrs, skimming his lips across her neck. “Will you have me?” 

“Yes,” she leans back into him, feeling his throbbing erection through his pants, pulsing hard into her spine. “Yes… Please… Vergil…” 

Vergil grasps the belt and pulls it off, lowering the bathrobe and exposing Maureen’s bare skin. She can hear his breath gets heavier, growling at the sight of her. Maureen is completely naked before him; her fair and very pale skin is glowing in the darkness of the room. He kisses her smooth long black hair tenderly, inhaling the intoxicating scent of hers.  

“You are exceptionally beautiful, beloved,” his words are full of conviction. “Now... you and me…” 

He removes his hands from her body. Maureen can’t believe that she misses the heat from Vergil’s body already. She feels hollow and empty, and he hasn’t even touched her properly. She hears more stuff falling on the floor; his coat, vest, pants, even boots. Only then she realizes that they both are clothless. His lips back on her shoulder again and giving them tiny little bites. He pulls her to lean on his chest again, this time Maureen can feel his bare skin entangled with hers in a feverish heat. His hands grip her hips as if he wants her to move closer to him. One of those firm hands heading up in a mild but definite motion to her right breast, circling her nipple with his thumb. Her nipple lengthens at that contact. Her whimper creates a small grin at the corner of his lips. He’s aware of the effect he’s having on her. 

“Already this eager, my dear?” he murmurs, still pecking on her shoulders. He brings his other palm to cup her other breast, squeezing them in painfully slow motion. Her breasts become heavy as her whimper gradually changes into wanton moans. 

“Haaa… Vergil…” Maureen whines. Her shaking palms settle on Vergil’s arms, holding at him tight as she follows his palm’s movement over her aching mounds. Her head arches back by the intimate pleasure from her chest and her already wet cunt. The knead on her mounds are getting harder when Maureen forces herself to turn her head over to see Vergil as a warning that he doesn’t allow her to see him yet. 

“I told you, haven’t I? Not yet.”  

Her eagerness excites him, makes him want to delve more inside her. His right palm leaves her chest, long and hot fingers of him lands on the outside of her wet flower. He barely moves any of his fingers, yet it sends unbearable shiver all over Maureen’s body while she shakes her head and shut her eyes out of pleasure. 

“Don’t look away. Look at yourself, Maureen. Look at how my fingers are going to fill your tight cunt up.” Vergil’s command is undeniable. Maureen does exactly as he orders, not dare to spare a glance from her lower body. It’s quite hard to see her beautiful vagina being invaded by Vergil’s skillful fingers in this position, while his fingers are moving in and out of her, stretching her hot walls. Maureen’s face burns up from hearing wet and amoral noises which grow louder in the room. She tightens her grip on Vergil’s left arm until her knuckles turn paler than her skin as she finally jerks up at the flood of releasement. Her head tilts as a lewd moan finds its way out of her throat. 

“So wet for me, hmm…” Vergil slides out of Maureen’s folds while she pants sluggishly, still hasn’t recovered her from nectarous orgasm. He pushes his body on her back; his fully erected thick cock presses on her buttock, jolting her in shock. Maureen worries if such a large of manhood would fit inside her. Vergil gives her a tease by moving his cock between her buttock, causing her to whimper delinquently. His fingers trace on Maureen’s chin, tilting it to face him… 

She doesn’t believe that such a breathtaking, godly face belongs to a mere human. His skin is as fair as she is, with swept back white hair that emphasizes on his fierce and cold expression. Maureen braves herself to put her index finger on his clean and strong jaw, down to his throat… feeling his slow purr as he kisses her temple before he spins her around, crashing his lips against hers, stealing her breath. She flings her arms over his shoulders to pull him closer while their hot mouth and tongues dueling. He presses his groin on her lower stomach, so she can feel his hard as steel erection, bidding to enter her soaked flowers. A groan escapes from Maureen’s mouth during this heat moment. She squirms underneath him. 

Vergil pulls away, despite his covetous desire to break her. He casts a gaze on her current predicament, pleased at the sight before him; Maureen’s moist lips part and her flushed red cheeks seduce him to have her in his grasps… to claim her as his. Her cloudy eyes trace his smothering body, eventually meeting with his icy eyes that reflects his unspeakable demand to have her beneath him. 

“Take me, Vergil,” Maureen begs. 

Vergil buries his face on her neck, giving her whole pure skin his marks. “I will. At my pace.” 

“Please…”   

“More,” he growls. “I like it when you beg.” 

Maureen tightens her embrace, clawing her slender fingers on his beautiful back. “Please Vergil… I want you, so bad… I need your cock inside me! Please fuck me hard! I want you to fill me… fuck me mindlessly… I want you to—” 

His desperate groans cut her plea as he swoops down to her mouth, claiming and raiding her mouth possessively. Their hard kisses become wilder as they bite each other, while Vergil lifts her body and she wraps her legs around his waist. Maureen’s body trembles on burning arousal just by feeling his hot cock slipping and entering her swollen cunt, causing a scandalous cry to escape her mouth. Vergil pins her against the window, her legs still covering his waist. 

“Does my cock feel good?” Vergil asks roughly. His touch and presence are suffocating her, yet it makes her craving for him… for more… and more… 

“Yes! So good, Vergil… it feels so good!” Maureen catches her breath in struggle. A subtle smirk appears on the corner of the lips. “It would feel much better… if you move your cock right now.” 

“It seems like I need to teach you a lesson,” Vergil thrusts upwards, painfully slow. “I am a cruel man, little bird, and I will be cruel to you.” 

He invades her mouth ravenously while moving his hips, this time harder and more powerful, thrusting her mercilessly. Maureen claws at him and panting as each strike from Vergil drowns her lost into the sea of lust. Please… harder. Lose yourself. Don’t hold back… 

Vergil lets out a smug grin. “My little bird seems to enjoy herself.” 

“So good, Vergil… it’s too good—ah!” 

The next thrust from Vergil marks her second releasement. It was so good and intense that Maureen feels her body starts to get weaker. One of her trembling hands slips from Vergil’s neck as she tries to balance herself from falling, despite she knows Vergil won’t let her fall. But her clumsy movement causes a little accident; she pushes the knob and the window opens, letting the sea breeze come inside her room, tickling her flaming skin. 

“Hmm…” Vergil hums roughly. “Good idea, little bird.” 

“Wha—no! Not outside!” Maureen clings to him, pleading her disagreement. But Vergil walks to the fence, putting her down from his waist and pinning her to prevent her struggle. 

“The window is soundproof.” 

“People still can see!” 

“This room is located at the very back of the ship. With aft-facing corner balconies, this room has the most secure privacy. There are no neighbor’s balconies on either side…” Vergil kisses her forehead tenderly, quite opposite with his intimidating gaze. “Besides, we would know if someone’s still awake, and don’t pretend you don’t have the ability to put them in their sleep.” 

“I do have that ability… it just feels… so wrong.” 

Vergil cups her jaws before giving her a soft kiss on her nose and lips. “We both know you want this, little bird.” 

He turns her body, placing her hands on the fence. “Let the sea witness how beautiful and enchanting you are when you’re full of ecstasy.” 

As he inserts himself into her tight walls again, it’s too late for Maureen to hold back. 

He grips her hips and pushes himself deep. He pounds hard and fast, almost without mercy. They feel the intensity and intimacy of their attached bodies moving together. They can’t hold their seductive gasps and moans as they keep fucking each other in salacious desire.  

“Vergil… Vergil… oh—ah! M-more!” Maureen wails and whimpers as her walls are getting tighter. She can feel her clitoris throbs harder as she’s close to another releasement. 

“You are such a greedy little thing…” he growls. His voice grows lower and darker on each groan. 

“Vergil… please give me more…!” 

The cambion stops his movement and pulls away his cock abruptly, leaving his woman gasps in confusion as she feels the void filling her body. She moans desperately. “Vergil… why…?” 

Vergil kneads her sensitive mounds gently, teasing her with his cock slipping between her warm inner thighs. “I know you’re about to come. Is that true, my love?” 

“Yes!” she cries. 

“Do you want more? Do you want me fuck you harder?” 

“Yes, please!” 

“Then prove your worth,” Vergil tilts her body to face him, smirking at the sight of her beautiful, submissive woman. “On your knees, slut.” 

Maureen lowers her body down to the cold floor, eyes captivated by Vergil’s menacing face. She opens her mouth slightly to catch some air, but it turns out her little action excites him very much. He caresses her hair and cheeks softly as if she’s a good pet, before he pushes his thumb into her mouth. 

“You know what to do, little bird.” Vergil’s command is absolute.  

His dominant presence secretly excites Maureen as she feels a weird surge of tension fulfill her stomach and swelled pussy. She reaches Vergil’s cock, giving it a light rub before she massages it softly. He seems to grow impatient at her soft and light touches, pounding his cock into her little mouth. 

“I told you,” Vergil says seductively. “I’m a cruel person.” 

Contrary to her protest, Maureen’s body seems eager to indulge his lust of her. She blows him, licking his long and thick cock as if she’s thirsty of him. She takes a glance to Vergil, seeking a slight sign of approval from him. She admires his beautiful body from below, feeling the urge to find her own releasement as she slides her hand to her cunt, but Vergil notices it. 

“I forbid you to touch yourself,” he snarls. “Or I will leave you here, desperate and begging me to please you like a pathetic little slut.” 

She shakes her head immediately, sucking his cock harder as an apology. He seems satisfied by her surrender, eyes lingering to her full mouth. 

“Who would have thought that you, an enchanting nocnitsa, the keeper of the night, turn out to be a wanton harlot?” he murmurs as she sucks him deeper. “Such a ravishing seductress, aren’t you?” 

There’s no sign of insult from his face. Instead, he seems to adore her as he gently guides her head to move faster. Maureen can feel he’s close to his first release. He shuts his eyes when he releases his fluid inside Maureen’s mouth—his cock still throbbing while she continues to move her tongue. She swallows it all before she pulls her mouth away, waiting for Vergil’s next command. But Vergil lifts her up instead, carrying her back inside her room. 

“Good,” he kisses her temple and drops her tenderly on the bed. A guttural sound comes from his throat. “I shall comply with your desire as well.” 

He kisses her face, down to her chest and slightly biting her breasts. Then he gulps one of the mounds, his tongue dances on the hardened nipple like a hungry baby while the other hand squeezes the other mound. Her delicate skin and his calloused hands feel like an amazing contrast. He inhales her scent and that drives him crazy, finding himself hard again and his cock is now fully erected. Her mounds are now moist and hot under his persistent care. 

Vergil’s caresses go further down to Maureen’s inner thighs. He spreads her legs apart, smiling at Maureen’s embarrassment. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No! Don’t stop!” 

“Very well.” He buries his face down between her thighs, worshiping her blossoming, nectarous tight hole. Each of his lick sends prickly goosebumps on her skins, causing her to arch her back and violently pull the sheet to hold herself.  

“Ahhhh!” Maureen feels his hot and wicked tongue circles her clit and the inner part of her vulva. He increases his speed and pressure, adding two fingers inside her. The surging tension crashes down into her lower stomach, preventing her to breath normally, even now she can’t form a single thought as he strokes faster until she feels a torturous pleasure comes out like flood. He licks his fingers, tantalizing the woman beneath him who’s whimpering, still hasn’t recovered from the delicious blackout. 

“Ever since I saw you for the first time, I know you would haunt me,” Vergil places his arms between Maureen’s shoulders. “That I won’t get enough of you… that I will get hurt for you…” 

His mouth meets hers, dancing in a tender motion. She folds her hands over his back, deepening their kiss and embrace. Her soft caresses on his back soothes him as his breath is getting calmer, giving her a sense of comfort. He gives her a peck on her nose while eyeing her exposed nakedness sharply. Only then, he thrusts himself inside her again, slowly and gently. He wants to feel the warmth between her walls, taking his time to feel his cock bulging harder inside her. Vergil spares her a small smile, showing his pure affection towards the nocnitsa. 

“May I move?” he asks politely. 

Maureen nods, unable to form a word despite her eagerness to answer him. 

They deeply tangled in that bed in sensual rhythm. Moans and ragged breath are mingled. He pulls up his body and holds his knees close to her hips, enclosing his palms around Maureen’s ankles to spread her legs wider, kissing the soft skin of her calf, much to her surprise. For a moment ago, he was cruel and dominating, yet now he indulges her sweetly as if he worships her. His growl is changing, almost sounds like a beast. Maureen can’t hide her shock when she sees his blue eyes glowing and his pupils are splitting into demonic eyes.  

Is he turning into his demon form?  “Vergil…?” 

“Hush now…” Vergil keeps digging inwardly, groaning at the narrow sensation from her inside. 

“Don’t hold back,” Maureen pants. “I want to see your true form.” 

“You will regret it.” 

“I can handle that. Please, Vergil.” 

Her wish is his command. He can no longer hold his primal instinct to consume her, to mark her as his. He releases his demon form; his body turns into blue scaly beast, with four wings attached on his back. His face can’t hide his deepest lust for her as he wraps his scaly tail over her body, gently places her on his lap. She rests her body on his scaly thighs before she pushes herself down, swallowing his monstrous cock. She can’t believe that Vergil can be this large. When she thinks Vergil can’t be more surprising, he always exceeds her expectations. 

“Stay still,” he murmurs in a demonic voice.  

Maureen carefully flings her arms onto Vergil’s harsh neck. She kisses his beastly jaw, causing him to shiver and growl impatiently. 

“Don’t provoke me,” Vergil warns her, thrusting his cock upwards tenderly. His long, fiendish tongue licks her shoulders and chest. 

Maureen caresses his face, her eyes spark with adoration. “Vergil… you are so beautiful.” 

And that’s enough to fuel him up. 

He moves his thighs, shoving himself so deep and hard, causing Maureen’s stifled cries to fill the room. The prickly sensation of scratching at her inner walls struck her sharply. Their affectionate kiss turns into nasty one. His fangs linger on her jaw and lowers to her nape, bleeding her for a little while he strikes her like a stake over and over again. His tail is keeping her in balance, protecting her from falling and his sharp scaly skin. As he drags Maureen deeper into her animalistic lust, her eyes change into blood red. Her desire and thirst for him is flowing as she absorbs him—a glowing blue mist radiates from Vergil’s body, circling Maureen before she opens her mouth and swallows the mist to gain more strength. 

“That’s it. Absorb me. Absorb all my emotions, my nightmares, my power. You are mine, as I am yours, Maureen. Feed only me.” 

“Vergil… oh my… you taste so good… I need more of you,” Maureen offers her neck to him. “Let’s have each other, Vergil. Please, take me…” 

Vergil accepts the offer to bite her neck, carefully not to rip it off or else she could die. Blood spilled over her shoulder and he licked it all, drinking and enjoying the taste of her. They consume each other whilst their bodies are still connected and moving at a wilder pace. They already forgot about anything else, not that it matters right now. They just want to devour and savor each other’s souls until they are lost in oblivion. 

“Vergil…” Maureen comes to her limit. “My love… I’m—” 

“Come. Come to me, beloved.” 

He pounds harder and his hands clamping onto her shoulders along with Maureen’s insatiate scream and squirting her nectar. His cock swells and jerks as he releases his seed violently deep inside her womb. Fluids come out from her moisten womanhood. Deliriously, she collapses forward onto his upper body, which gradually returns to his human form. Their damp bodies still entangled to each other, exhausted and content. Vergil strokes her back providently, feeling amazed as he sees the misty energy that she absorbed from him heals her wounds quickly. 

“I made a mess of you.” He sighs calmly. “Did I hurt you?” 

Vergil senses her head on his chest shaking slowly. 

“We broke the bed…” Maureen giggles, pointing at the bed with disarray holes in it. 

“I guess it won’t be a problem. This ship will never sail again anyway. At least until we reach Red Grave.” Vergil leans their bodies on the bed, bringing her head on his chest again. They speak nothing for a moment, just feeling the warmth emitted from their bodies. Maureen finds herself love to hear his steady heartbeat, shutting her eyes to feel its movement. 

“Try to sleep, my love.” He gives her a peck on the crown of her head. 

“You realize that nocnitsa is doomed to have a nightmare every time they fall asleep as a price for our power, right?” 

“I do,” Vergil caresses her head. “But I can do something about that.” 

He transfers his demonic power to her, as she gradually feels her body getting numb and sleepy. She doesn’t even realize when she falls asleep. She just falls into absolute darkness. No nightmares, no dreams, not even an anxious feeling but the pleasant and calming memory of Vergil. 

-- 

From the moment she opened her eyes, Vergil was nowhere to find. 

Lady Midnight has landed at the port of Red Grave. It’s not very shocking to see the passengers rush themselves out from the cursed ship. Luckily, Maureen found a great spot to hide and blend in the shadows of the passengers, so she doesn’t have to mingle with the horde of angry passengers. She lifts her suitcase, escaping herself from the journalists who're waiting for them.  

Maureen realizes that she misses this city, even though weird things always happen in this forsaken city. She misses its clear and fresh breath. She cannot wait to arrive at her apartment, playing her violin again. Maybe she would compose a song. She already has her idea ever since her steamy night with Vergil. 

Vergil… 

She makes a mental note to pass by the Devil May Cry office someday. She never thought that the famous devil hunter in this city has a twin brother. The one who created a big hole in her heart once she woke up without his presence. 

Maureen reaches in the pocket of her coat to find her phone, intending to order a taxi. But her fingers catch something else aside from her cellphone. 

A memo? 

Maureen opens the paper, reading the neat handwriting written on it. 

Never to bid good-bye 

Or lip me the softest call, 

Or utter a wish for a word, 

While I saw morning harden upon the wall, 

Unmoved, unknowing 

That your great going 

Had place that moment and altered all.

Until we meet again, my little bird.

-Vergil

Maureen folds the paper neatly and puts it back into her pocket. For the first time in her long and empty life, she feels an unexpected encouragement as well as an aching longing for someone. It is true when you dance with the devil, you don’t change the devil. It’s the devil who changes you.

Until then, Vergil. 

Notes:

The poem mentioned by Vergil is “The Going” written by Thomas Hardy

===

A/N :  Finally, my first smut! I blame whitedemonqueen from AO3 and all the thirsty Vergil's hoes lovers at Discord server for making me write this sinned fic XD 

Tagging : @shiranyaaww @harlot-of-oblivion

Masterlist

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #vergil #vergil x oc #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil x maureen #devil may cry smut #masquerade party #masquerade fanfiction #nocnitsa #nocnitsa reader #violinist reader #masquerade fiction #night writes #do you notice the Thor : Ragnarok reference? xD

[lizacstuff]

Hi! What did you think of ep23?I love your in depth thoughts on the episodes. I really enjoyed it, especially the EdSer moments (was smiling like an idiot during the skating scene - when Eda complained about it being hot (girl same), and also that she understood what he said in French omg). I hope the grandmother doesn't turn out to be as evil as everyone is assuming. I guess the one big con was Ayfer. She's gotten more annoying right? That's not just me? But I love me some Aydan!

Hello! Thank you for the kind words. Let's see, I did like the episode, but as I said in another ask I was a bit on edge while watching for a couple of reasons, but they're all Edser related so I'll talk about that when I talk about them at the end. As far as Ayfer is concerned, I FEEL YOU. 

Good grief, woman. Why does she have to be such a harpy? It feels like she complains about absolutely everything. Plus, she's forcing a situation where her beloved niece can't trust or confide in her, and all the girls have to hide Eda's work schedule from her. Look, if Ayfer doesn't want to spend time with Aydan, fine, but her anger towards and disapproval of Eda's job and her relationship with Serkan are completely selfish. She may tell herself she's disapproving for Eda's own good, but come on.

Because, seriously, what does Ayfer think she's protecting Eda from? Serkan is handsome, rich, successful and head over heels in love with Eda. Let's be honest, Eda could do worse. He might be a tad arrogant and controlling, but he's a very good man with a very good heart. Also he tries with Ayfer. I get the connection with Alptekin is upsetting, but Serkan and Aydan have cut him completely out of their lives and neither had anything to do with what happened. I also get that Ayfer was put off by the whole contract thing, but it took two to tango there, and Eda's entire world opened up because of that arrangement.

Maybe that's the problem? 

(more under the cut)

Maybe Ayfer can feel Eda expanding and growing and her world getting much bigger than Ayfer's and it scares her? She thinks she'll lose her, or won't recognize her? Privately, Serkan and Eda have talked about running away together, maybe Ayfer senses that's a possibility? (PRO TIP: Then don't be a negative force they have to get away from!) 

Also what's happening with this Chef Alexander thing? Is he actually going to make an appearance? Is there going to be a romance? I think that would be good, maybe that will salvage Ayfer's character and she'll get distracted and maybe even happy. I did laugh, though, at her her calling Aydan and Seyfi out on their lie about having him on board with their charity scheme. They should know better than to try that. Amateur move, kids!  But I will always applaud their matchmaking efforts when it comes to Eda and Serkan. 

I enjoyed the girls this episode. I like that they don't share Ayfer's concerns about Serkan and are ready to go to the mat for whatever Eda wants. Poor Melo is the worst detective, but she gets points for trying. Also points for picking up what Eda was putting down and skillfully sweeping Balca and her broken heel out of the way. I'd want Fifi for protection as well, girl is badass. I can't tell what this Fifi/Erdem thing is supposed to be.  Does she have a soft spot for him, she must because I don't know why she would give him the time of day otherwise. She's not one we have to worry about not being able to say no. If she wanted to rid herself of his presence, she'd do it. Ceren and Ferit are just kind of... there. I don't dislike it, but I also don't really care. They need something to spice that up.

Which is what we finally got with Engin and Piril! Holy moly, who is her dad!?! Mafia boss? Politician? Wealthy recluse? @alicekepley suggested on another post that maybe it's Aydan's first love. Now that would be interesting. Maybe he turned to a life of crime after being disappointed by Aydan? I am now looking forward to see how this plays out and how it affects them. However, there's one thing that gets me almost every episode. I love Engin and Anil, but he looks at least a decade older than Serkan, Piril, and Selin. So much so that I don't buy they could have gone to school together. This is where I'll have to call on my well honed suspension of disbelief I guess... I'll tell myself he spent a lot of time in the sun and is graying a bit prematurely. 

I did like Engin and Serkan sitting around commiserating about their relationships and hoping things were about to turn around. That's the more equal buddy talk I want to know happens. 

Speaking of Serkan, duuuuuuuuude. You're being hunted, wise up!  I'm really stuck on what he said to Sirius after Eda left his house at the top of the episode. "Don't look at me like that, everything is under control, I know perfectly well what I'm doing, this is my tactic." We know from last episode he thought Eda would show, and this episode while talking to Eda he told her that he was expecting her and the candles were for her.  So... did he purposely allow Balca in to provoke Eda's jealousy? If so, I'm not sure this is his best course of action. It's certainly not with regards to fanning Balca's dangerous pretensions, but I'm not sure he's getting his best result with Eda either. It's true that it gave him an excuse to flirt, make the bet, tease her, bask in her obvious jealousy even if she won't admit it, and get a Parisian date out of it. I suppose that's not a bad day's work. On the other hand, if he'd sent Balca on her way, he would have had a happy Eda, in his house, sitting on the couch next to him, watching a movie with him, which also could have led to a very good place for him.  

It's also a mystery to me if Serkan is really clueless about Balca's intentions, or if he's playing dumb to suit his own purposes with Eda. I'm thinking it's the middle. He probably sees it but thinks it's a whole lot more harmless than it is. Like maybe he gets Balca has a crush on him, but he has no suspicion that he's in dangerous fatal attraction territory. Which is where we are. I don't want to fling words like 'crazy' around, but... bitch be crazy! If she is capable of trying to large-scale sabotage his company in her pursuit of him, that's some seriously scary stuff. WAKE UP, SERKAN. 

I said I was uneasy while watching this episode and part of it was concern over what would happen with the tender, and worrying if Balca's sabotage was going to work, leaving Eda to blame. If that had gone the other way, the fallout would have been painful. Also storylines where a fav is falsely accused always make me antsy. I was able to handle the Serkan roof collapse one because it was at the end of the episode, and they were able to figure out that he wasn't responsible right off the top of the next. But this one had me on edge all ep.  I was especially nervous after Eda made the independent report on her recommended firm part of a trust test. Sweetie, I love you, but NOOOOO. That was not the move of a professional. Serkan, as the company principle, wanting to vet a partner or vendor is completely normal and has nothing to do with how much he trusts her. Put aside the fact that she's only been in the workforce for a few months, you always want a second set of eyes on something that important. Always. She showed some of her immaturity there, which is fine, she's young and inexperienced, but it's a sign of how desperate Serkan is for her to forgive him that he humored her. That man will do anything for her, even if it doesn't make sense or is potentially damaging. I get why the writer's did it, for the suspense of Eda being out on that limb all on her own, but it was also actually a bit of a missed opportunity for him to mentor her there. (And I love when she learns from him.)

The other reason I was uneasy watching this ep was due to some frustration with Eda. See above on the trust test, but it was also a little hard to watch her just completely succumb to Serkan's charm and be in the moment with him one moment, and then the next second shake it off and be adamant that she was going to be leaving the job and him shortly.  It felt like constant whiplash. Also if she won the bet she wanted him to leave her alone? Sure, Jan. She could have asked for something really good! We all know she doesn’t really want him to leave her alone, so that pretense has gotten harder and harder to take. However, the times she rebuffed him didn't bother me as much as when she told Melo she was leaving the job. I can chalk up the ones to Serkan as part of her act, trying to protect herself and poke holes in his pretensions, but when she said it to Melo it felt more real. Like that was really what she was still planning to do, and it's really hard to reconcile that with all the moments where she puts down her guard and it's obvious she's madly in love with him.  

On a positive note, scenes where it’s clear they’re madly in love with each other were plentiful this episode. The romantic robot used every opportunity he could find to make her melt. My GAWD she has a will of iron that she was able to back away from him after he recited all the ways he could tell if a woman (her) was in love with him. He is one smooth bastard. And boy does he know her, he knows exactly what he does to her. That scene was FIRE. Not to be crass, but how did they not do it right then and there? After the last few eps, they have to be at a 100 on a scale of 1-10 when it comes to pent up sexual energy. Hey Eda, maybe you wouldn't be so jealous if you knew he had an outlet for that. I'm just sayin'.

The lunch was pretty funny and I definitely enjoyed the kicking and the under the table conversation. After refusing to admit she was jealous, Eda totally deserved that Serkan said that whatever Balca's feelings for him were, they were between him and Balca. Eeesh. I see what he's doing, he's trying to bring her feelings out into the open, and she deserves it, but I don't think he realizes how vulnerable she is over everything. He's walking a tightrope here. However, I do appreciate that he finally just admitted that he's jealous. If he'd just done that in 18, he would have saved himself some angst. Are we to infer from Serkan asking Eda not to use emojis with Efe, that Edser likes to use emojis when they text? Or was that just a generic, "don't be cute with him?"  I think I'll take that Serkan and Eda use emojis, just because it tickles me to think of Serkan Bolat doing that. All of shipper twitter thinks that's the writers poking at the actors because of how much they use them with one another on social. Who knows, maybe that explains it, since it sort of came out of the blue. You gotta love, though, that every manipulative thing Balca did either failed or backfired spectacularly. Showing up at his place, sure she succeeded in upsetting Eda and derailing their night, but it also put Eda on her guard and brought about the flirty wager between Eda and Serkan. She left the earring, but Eda found it before she could use it as an excuse to return. She broke her heel, but that just gave her a ruined pair of shoes and Melo an excuse to get her out of there so Serkan and Eda could be alone. She and her devious friend succeeded in throwing Melo and Eda off the scent, however all that meant was that Serkan won the bet and gave him the pretense needed to get her to agree to the most romantic date on the planet. She sabotaged the report, but Eda still found out about the company's background and Eda was the hero when ArtLife won the tender. Balca: 0 percent success rate so far. 

THE ICE SKATING SCENES WERE PURE MAGIC!  It was fun to see the whole cast out there having a blast, but obviously it was the Edser scene at night that lit up the whole show. Damn was that pretty. (it's currently my ipad lock screen and home screen) The chemistry between the actors was on display all episode, but here it just exploded. When Eda said she was hot, no kidding! How could you not be? And I agree that Serkan speaking French to her was OMG. Love, love, love the date that Serkan planned for them in Paris. I'm bereft that we'll likely never see it. Damn you pandemic, look what you've taken from us! The characters, and the audience, deserve an entire episode of Paris romantic fluff. We've all earned this! 

The date sounded perfect and I found it very interesting that he had purposely never been to Montmartre. So at some point he promised himself he'd only go there with a woman he was truly in love with, makes me wonder if it was a much younger Serkan who made that promise. The Serkan we met in the pilot didn't believe in love, he was hard-hearted, he actually talked with Engin about how a contract, a bloodless business transaction, was the way to go for relationships. Robot Bolat. So I don't think he made that idealistic promise any time recently. If so, that means he's had that in the back of his mind for years, but Eda's the only woman he's ever considered taking. My heart. I love how the show keeps showing us and telling us that this is the first time Serkan has ever been in love. You could see in that scene that Eda was right there with him. She was so happy and in the moment and swept away by the romance. She was as excited for Paris as he was. I know we all wanted a kiss/declaration here, it would have been a very good moment for it. A very good one. But the show has other plans for them, so we wait.

So, yeah, I really liked the Edser we got, but Eda’s hot and cold act was hard to reconcile at times. However, perhaps it all came together in the end, when she's talking to Melo and Ceren about Paris. She was feeling troubled over it, probably what agreeing to go with him meant, but they both told her to listen to her heart in Paris and it seems like she was going to do it: "From now on I'll stop worrying. I'm opening a new page in life." So I think in that moment she was ready for next steps and was planning to be open with him in Paris, let's hope it carries over to the next episode even without Paris. 

Actually, that whole conversation was a bit of a window into her psyche and was more illuminating than almost anything in the episode in that regard. When Eda says she’s worried, Melo teases her that she's nervous to be alone with Serkan Bolat, and then jokes that all young women would like to have that problem, including herself.  Eda does NOT like that joke and actually verbalizes it, "Melo, at least you don't do that."  That was a huge spotlight into Eda's insecurities, like she is really discombobulated by witnessing women showing interest in him while they're in such a nebulous place. Since she is coming off of what happened with Selin, and was already feeling jealous when the first candidate set her off with (her creepy) talk of chemistry last episode, then finding Balca at Serkan's house in the opening scene, I suppose it's no surprise that all of that has had some residual effects. But that it's to the point where she can't take a joke from Melo is telling. Poor thing.  

My hope is that this is just something she's working through while she's feeling off-kilter about everything. It would be one thing if they were together, but she's in this headspace where half the time she says she's leaving and it's over between them and half the time she acting like his wife, so I think she's just discombobulated. Maybe she just wants time to figure things out, but feels like she doesn’t have it, because someone is going to swoop in and take her place and that’s feeding her jealousy? The fact that Serkan can’t see it (Selin and Balca) until it’s out of control doesn’t help. 

It's natural for her to be upset that this woman has entered the scene and is clearly trying to maneuver herself into Eda's place in Serkan's life. However, there is an easy fix to this. Just go be with him. Come on, Eda, we know you can do it! You're ready. You’re primed. Bring on the New Year's Ep!

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #sck ask #sck episode discussion #edser discussion #sck 1x23 #edser meta #asklizac #Anonymous #sckask

[oneblueumbrella]

Thirty minute Thursday

Flirt part 1

If Greg didn’t know any better he’d say he was being followed, but that was ridiculous. His tired brain was simply playing tricks on him. There were plenty of black town cars in London, and at this time of night the traffic was heavy enough for a skilled driver to lose themselves if they so desired. It was the downside of leaving work on time, dodging far more people than usual and having to check properly before crossing the road. He was vaguely considering the pros and cons of a takeaway versus actually cooking when the sound of his name broke into his thoughts.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

Greg faltered, closing his eyes for a second. It wasn’t his name but his title that made him stop. Must be work, and his sense of duty was too strong to ignore it.

Dammit.

Steeling himself to be polite, Greg turned, but the courteous smile he was preparing didn’t quite make it when he saw who – and what – was waiting. The brunette was pretty enough, but the rest of the scene made his jaw drop. The blatantly menacing civil servant types in suits, one holding open the door of a black town car were almost comical in their seriousness. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? He could only think of one person that might find it amusing to arrange something so elaborate.

With certainty that came with relief, Greg relaxed. “Did Sherlock do this?” he asked.

“No,” the brunette said, her voice distant. She had barely looked at Greg, far more invested in her blackberry than anything happening around her.

When Greg didn’t move, she sighed theatrically before looking up at him. He had the distinct impression she was mildly surprised to see him still standing in front of her. Greg barely registered the flick of her forefinger, but both the security guards moved immediately. Neither touched Greg, but they were standing uncomfortably close enough to encourage him to walk towards the open door of the car.

“Seriously?” Greg sighed.

Whatever was going on it didn’t feel like he was in any danger and honestly, his curiosity was piqued now. Someone was going to a lot of effort just to speak to him and it would be terribly rude to ignore them. Shrugging, Greg stepped forward and slid into the car. He’d be riding in style at least, admiring the leather as the brunette slid in beside him.

Glancing sideways he decided not to ask where they were going. His companion was clearly not going to tell him anything more than he already knew – which was basically nothing – and he just hoped they would drop him off at home in time to get some dinner in. Being kidnapped definitely tipped his decision in the direction of takeaway, and he wondered if she’d lied about this being Sherlock’s handiwork. He didn’t usually bother with anything so extravagant. More likely to get some of his homeless mates to rough Greg up a little than organise this elegant ride, although for what purpose Greg still wasn’t entirely sure.

When the car stopped, Greg realised he had no idea where they were. They’d driven into a warehouse somewhere, and he could make an estimate at how far they were from the Yard, but otherwise his daydreaming meant he hadn’t been paying attention at all.

“Out, please,” the brunette said, still tapping on her Blackberry.

Greg shrugged. Even if the joke was to take him out here and leave him, he’d have to get started walking home eventually. The sound of the door closing was loud, reverberating through the empty space. Greg was surprised when the car didn’t take off, instead sitting like a great dark creature in the darkness. The only source of light was a single downwards beam a few metres away.

Whoever they are there’s a streak of drama in them.

It made Greg relax; the truly bad guys wouldn’t have bothered with all this. He’d be dead and stuffed in a truck at the bottom of the river if that was the point. So whoever this was they were either amateur thugs – unlikely with the car and the pretty henchwoman, not to mention the professionally trained security people – or the agenda was something entirely different. And the only thing in Greg’s life even vaguely interesting right now was Sherlock. The brunette said he didn’t set it up, so this was someone else. Someone interested in Sherlock, but not wanting to be seen speaking to Greg.

Sherlock knows this person.

Greg grinned, still standing by the car. This was actually interesting, now. He wondered how long he could stand here in the dark, but he was starting to get hungry and it was obvious he was expected to walk toward the single beam of light.

Don’t want to disappoint.

Strolling over, one hand in his pocket, Greg stopped at the edge of the light. It was impossible to see the other side, but he had the impression someone was there. He didn’t say anything, biting the inside of his mouth to hide his grin. This silence was a classic interrogation technique. Either this person didn’t think he’d know that, or they were prepared to wait. Tempting though it was to play ‘who’s better at waiting’, Greg was prepared to sacrifice this move in order to get things going.

“This might be easier if you say something,” Greg said. When there was no immediate reply, he made his first move. “Okay, well, thanks for the lift, it’s a very nice car. A phone call might be enough next time, eh?”

He’d turned and walked several steps before the voice spoke from the other side of the light.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.”

“Yeah, we’ve already established that,” Greg replied before returning to the edge of the light with an easy grin. He wasn’t going to pretend to be intimidated by all this; despite the darkness, it was all a bit cloak-and-dagger for his radar to ping ‘actual danger’. “Did you want to introduce yourself or are you planning to stick with the Smoking Man kind of vibe?”

A beat passed before one well-polished shoe stepped into the light, a precise movement followed by the most Bond-villain looking person Greg had ever seen in real life. The shoes were only the beginning, and when the point of the umbrella landed carefully on the ground, Greg found his eyes drawn up, cataloguing the pinstriped suit over long long legs, a matching waistcoat and – was he serious? – a genuine pocketwatch. The shadows were too deep for him to pick the colour of the tie and pocket square but it was some kind of red, an unashamed power move.

Deliberately dramatic. Could have some fun…

Greg couldn’t have chosen a better man to with whom to do this. Whatever the game was, this man was all in, and while Greg wasn’t going to take up his allocated role of intimidated working class copper, he was well prepared to play some games of his own. And this man, with his raised chin and half visible expression, radiating power and disdain, was the perfect man to be taken down by Greg’s chosen game. It wouldn’t hurt that he was exactly Greg’s type, either.

I might as well enjoy it.

“Well hello there, handsome,” Greg purred. He stepped further into the light, his smile widening into a grin of appreciation. He deliberately looked the man up and down, allowing his eyes to linger, head nodding as he noted details. “Pity the lights are so dim. Hard to appreciate such a fine specimen without the proper lighting.”

“I beg your pardon?” the man said, and Greg was fairly sure he’d raised an eyebrow.

“Look, if you’re after some fun, you could have just asked,” Greg said. He eased closer, suppressing a chuckle as the man stiffened. “As long as no money changes hands it’s not illegal.” He settled his weight, slipping his hands in his pockets. “I’d be happy to say I got into that car voluntarily. I mean, depending on what you have planned.”

“My plans are of no such variety.” The man spoke in a voice Greg suspected was supposed to be firm but wavered at the edges.

“Don’t worry sugar, I have plenty of ideas,” Greg told him. “You obviously know who I am, but I don’t know your name.” He grinned. “I could give you a name for the night, if you like.”

“This is not a…the purpose of this meeting,” the man said, still ignoring Greg’s musings about his name, “is to ascertain your intentions regarding a certain informant with whom you’ve recently started working.”

Greg’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. He glanced around again, shaking his head. “Might be easier to remember if I could see a bit more clearly.”

(this is as far as I got - I plan to continue this story next week)

#mystrade #thirtyminutethursday

[moskaisley]

ransom

pairing: fennec shand x female!reader oneshot

rating: NC-17!!! 18+ it ain’t a suggestion

word count: 2.3k

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! graphic depictions of oral sex and a lil bit of bondage, canon typical violence, fluff n the smallest bit of angst

a/n:

the lack of fennec shand content is SAD so here i am indulging in a character we knew for like 5 minutes. id go to war for ming na wen and i can’t wait to see her again in s2 🥺🥺

also yes fennekin is a pokemon, yes i want that to be her nickname, i will NOT be taking questions.

summary:

“You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price.”

in which you fall for your bodyguard and get kidnapped to get her attention.

ao3 link

“You guys haven’t done this before, have you?”

“Be quiet!”

You roll your eyes and lean back into your chair, wrists tied to the armrests. Crossing your legs, you lazily watch your captors pace around the room with a bored expression on your face. This wasn’t the first time you’d been snatched away and put up for ransom. You had a bad habit of sneaking away from your family’s dull estate whenever unsupervised, and a corrupted senator’s daughter is always an easy target with a high price. In the beginning, there was only a mild concern for your life, but your lust for life outside of your grand home kept you slipping away. When your father realized how expensive it was to keep paying for your ransom, he hired all kinds of professionally trained security guards to accompany you at all times. It didn’t work. Each time, they’d grow sick of your antics and quit. Every guard that left your father’s employment fueled your ego and there was a strange power trip in seeing hardened men and women bested by an impulsive, slippery little girl. It wasn’t until your father completely lost it and hired the best money could buy, delving deep into his connections to the criminal underbelly.

She was good, too–impervious to your little games and annoying prodding. It was the first time you’d been so safe in months. If you were being completely honest, you only got yourself kidnapped nowadays to spice up the routine.

Speaking of kidnapping, these guys were total amateurs; they didn’t even have proper binders so they bound your wrists with rope instead. They didn’t bother bagging you when they tossed you into their speeder, giving you plenty of time to memorize their faces(not that you even needed to, they’d be dead by the time you were saved.) Their holovid to be sent to your family was the same tired spiel of  “give us the money or the girl gets it.” Not compelling in the slightest. You were slightly impressed by their asking price, however; it was higher than most. None of it mattered, though. You won’t be here much longer.

After all, your security detail was impeccable.

“Do you plan on taking me to a second location at all?” you ask.

The pantoran shoots you a quizzical look with his golden eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes again, letting out an exasperated, dramatic sigh.

“Normally, you take the hostage to a second location to keep people off your scent.”

The group looks at you, wildly confused as to why their prisoner is so nonchalant to give them a critique on their kidnapping skills. They then look at each other as if to say, “should we be doing that?”

A devaronian, probably the leader of this ragtag group, quickly stands up to stand before you.

“I thought I told you to be quiet, little girl.”

“I will hand it to you, though. It’s good that you chose a place with no windows,” You continue, completely ignoring his orders, “My security guard is an incredible shot.”

Slap!

Your cheek stings in pain from his strike.

Finally, something interesting.

“No one’s coming for you. You’re stuck with us until your bastard father coughs up our money,” he growls.

You only laugh, enraging him further, “It’s true that my father’s a bastard, but you’re not getting out of here with any money. And it seems–”

The sounds of struggling and shots echo from behind the door, interrupting you. You smirk.

“You’re not getting out of here with your life either.”

As if she was waiting for your cue, your savior bursts through the door, blasters at attention at the group encircling the room. You perk up in your seat.

“Fennekin! You made it!” you cheerily greet, cutting through the tense standoff before you.

She chides you for the nickname.

“Not while I’m working, sweetheart.”

She fires with deadly precision and blaster shots go off chaotically around the room. In a matter of minutes, all five of your captors are splayed knocked out on the ground, and your bodyguard is kneeling in front of you to meet your eyes. She pulls off her helmet, braid falling to her shoulders. Her gloved hand gently nursing your irritated cheek.

“You didn’t kill them?” You ask her, confused.

“Your father would rather have them arrested. Better poll ratings,” she answers, “He’ll be angry with you again, you know.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“Must you always cause so much trouble?”

You pout your lips, “If I don’t, then you won’t pay attention to me.”

Your savior laughs lightly and stands to her full height. She bends over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You’re giddy at the feeling of her lips, and your body suddenly goes warm in adoration.

At first, Fennec Shand was just another bodyguard to irritate until she got sick of your tricks and quit. But her patience knew no bounds. You’d be bold enough to say that it amused her, as if watching a child play soldier. And it infuriated you. She never raised her voice with you, even if she’d rescued you from danger or caught you sneaking out countless times. You saw it all as a challenge, a little game to get her to snap, to rile her up, anything . Soon enough, you were desperate for her attention in any form, pressing her with question upon question and learning about the life of a galaxy-class assassin. Each time, she’d answer with the same cool and collected tone she’d reserved only for you.

“Fennekin.”

You couldn’t tell if she hated the nickname. If she did, she never said so.

“Hm?”

“How many planets have you been to?” You ask her one night. During one of your father’s campaign galas, you’d taken the chance to slip onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze graze your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replies politely, “I’ve lost track.”

Naturally, your incessant prodding led Fennec to ask questions of her own, a far cry from your previous bodyguards who only regarded you as a spoiled rich girl with daddy issues. (You were, but that wasn’t the point.) It was comforting to have someone to confide in, to express your frustration at the fact that Fennec had been to countless planets while you’d lived your entire life on a single one. There was so much more that you could be doing with your life than playing the proper, dutiful daughter to a government official. You were grateful that she’d listened to you at all.

It was only a matter of time before you started falling in love with the smoothness of her voice and the relaxed half-smile that graced her lips whenever she was around. And so, you began to flirt with her, cooing praises and taking every opportunity to brush against her and feel her touch. But Fennec still maintained her composure, politely declining your advances in the interest of professionalism. Until one day, you caught her fervent gaze as she watched you float around the halls of your estate in one of your expensive silk dresses and a mischievous glint in your eye. It set your pride on fire to know that she wanted you too.

“Fennec,” you breathed. In your boldness, you’d pressed yourself against her and cupped the sides of her face. Her hands caressed your wrists, rubbing her thumbs against her palms.

You’re obsessed with the way she says your name.

“We shouldn’t do this. Your father will have my head.”

“Who said we have to tell him?”

You met her lips gently, testing the waters and half-expecting her to pull away. But to your absolute delight, Fennec’s hands quickly met your waist, pulling you closer and deeper. Your relationship now consisted of secret kisses in empty hallways, late night escapades in your bedroom, knowing glances from across the room during audiences with your father.

Some things never changed, though.

“We should get going,” she says, going into unbind your wrists.

A delicious idea pops into your head seeing Fennec before you. You gently kick your foot into her knee, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“Wait.”

Fennec stills and a languid smile spreads along your pretty lips as you uncross your legs, crudely spreading them apart so she stands in between you. Her eyes darken, and she regards you with a piercing stare.

“No. Not here.”

You look up at her with pleading eyes.

“You’ve been so busy. We’re never alone anymore.”

She says your name in warning.

“Fennec, please. I’ve missed you.”

She tilts her head at you and sighs, dropping to her knees. She all but rips off her gloves, throwing them to the floor with an unceremonious flop. Your heart quickens in pace as her hands travel up your legs. She pushes the hem of your dress past your knees and high up your thighs, revealing your soaking underwear. You gasp as a finger traces up your slip, hooking at your waistband.

“ So needy … Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes. Please,” you beg. You’re burning up, desperate to feel her. She pulls at your panties, sliding them down your legs and slipping them into her pocket. Your cunt is dripping in arousal, and you shudder at the sudden exposure to the cold. She grasps at your hips, and presses a kiss to your inner thighs. Your heart races at the fact that you’re bound to your seat and completely at her mercy, unable to pull her closer.

“Did you miss me, princess?”

Warmth blooms at your core at the feeling of her hot breath between your legs. You’re dizzy, all rational thought escaping you. She bites down at the soft skin.

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Fennec, I missed you so much,” you whimpered, “Need your mouth on me.”

She hums in pleasure, and presses soft pecks against your thighs until her lips finally meet your pussy. Her tongue travels up your folds and you nearly scream in bliss. Fennec’s hands grip and grab at your soft skin, lifting to take hold of your breasts. Her thumbs run themselves over your nipples, already pebbling through the thin silk of your dress.

You whine as she pulls away, straightening up on her knees and tracing the contours of your neck and jaw with deft fingers. Her thumb stops over the center of your lips.

“Suck.”

You obey and take it into your wet mouth, savouring the taste of leather and blaster powder. When she removes her finger, Fennec immediately presses it against your clit. You throw your head back in delight, pushing your ass out in your seat to get a better angle. Fennec’s lips find their way back to your pussy, expertly kissing and sucking at your folds.

Your body tenses. The knot in your stomach coils and winds so tight you feel like you’re going to burst. Fennec only continues rubbing circles into your clit.

“You gonna cum for me, my girl?”

“M-Maker, Fennec, I’m so close” you sob.

You feel her smile against your pussy, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my mouth.” She sucks at your folds again and you completely lose it. The feeling of relief washes over you in waves, drowning you in ecstasy and warmth. You’re electric under her; she’s the only one to ever make you feel this way. The only one who could make you beg. You’d bleed for her. It was then, in that dingy musty basement with no windows, you realized–

“Shit, I think I’m in love with you.”

It comes out as barely a whisper, spoken into the void in between your laboured breathing. But she hears you because she always hears you, hangs onto your every word uttered through your lips. Her stare freezes on you for a moment in shock, but then she smiles fully, beaming at you from her place on the floor. Taking your face into her hands, she kisses you harder than she ever has before.

“I love you, too.”

--

“I’ve had it up to here with your attitude, young lady!”

Your father drones on angrily, but you’re not even listening. A stupid, lovesick smile has been planted on your face ever since the basement. Your gaze darts over to your bodyguard leaning against the wall directly behind him. She meets your eyes and chuckles under her breath, shaking her head.

Your father barks at you, “Do you realize our reputa– Are you even listening? Pay atten–”

“Daddy, can we talk about this tomorrow?” you ask, lazily pressing the back of your hand to feign fatigue, “I’m so tired. Being kidnapped takes a lot out of you, y’know?”

He huffs through his nose, tapping his foot against the pristine marble floor.

“Fine,” he relents, pointing up, “Fennec, see to it that actually makes it to her room. We need to make sure she’s not slipping away before your departure.”

“Right away, sir.”

Departure? She pushes off the wall and stands at attention. As your father turns his back, you shoot her a look of confusion. Her eyes nod upwards, and you both ascend the grand staircase in silence. In your room, you stand in front of the open doors to your balcony, curtains swaying softly under the blue moonlight.

“How long will you be gone?”

“A month, at most,” she replies, “I’m off to Tatooine on some business.”

You turn to face her, snaking your arms around her neck and hands softly tracing over her braid.

“Do you need to leave right away?”

Her lips curl into a loving smile.

“No, I don’t.”

“Stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.”

The two of you laid together in your large, fluffy bed, curled up into the curves of each other’s bodies and basking in their warmth. Fennec pressed kisses into your temple while you were encircled around her waist.

“Fennekin?”

“Hm?”

“Come back to me, okay?”

Come back to me and steal me away.

--

thanks for reading! see u space cowboys <3

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Movie Review | Mulholland Drive (Lynch, 2001)

This review contains spoilers.

David Lynch's Mulholland Drive was released in recent years by the Criterion Collection, that great home video company that's probably the OG of boutique labels, known for putting out acclaimed, significant or otherwise interesting films in really nice packages. (For some reason I had been thinking they put this out only last year until I actually looked it up. I guess my sense of time has been a little warped as of late, and as much as I'd like to tie this review into pandemic-era life, the fact is other labels have captured my attention lately, as can be evidenced by my embarrassingly large and extremely shameful Vinegar Syndrome haul from their Halfway to Black Friday sale from a few months ago.) Now, nobody in 2021 is going into this movie truly blind, but if I happened to pick up the Criterion cover and perused the back, aside from the list of special features and disc specs, you'd see the below (which I grabbed off their website):

Blonde Betty Elms (Naomi Watts) has only just arrived in Hollywood to become a movie star when she meets an enigmatic brunette with amnesia (Laura Harring). Meanwhile, as the two set off to solve the second woman’s identity, filmmaker Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux) runs into ominous trouble while casting his latest project. David Lynch’s seductive and scary vision of Los Angeles’s dream factory is one of the true masterpieces of the new millennium, a tale of love, jealousy, and revenge like no other.

Now, this is a tough movie to evoke with only a blurb, but I'd say that does a pretty respectable job. I however do not own this release. What I do own is the barebones Universal DVD that was released a few months after the movie, back when going into the movie blind would have been far more likely. This is the description on the back:

This sexy thriller has been acclaimed as one of the year's best films. Two beautiful women are caught up in a lethally twisted mystery - and ensnared in an equally dangerous web of erotic passion. "There's nothing like this baby anywhere! This sinful pleasure is a fresh triumph for Lynch, and one of the best films of the year. Visionary daring, swooning eroticism and colors that pop like a whore's lip gloss!" says Rolling Stone's Peter Travers. "See it… then see it again!" (Time Out New York)

Now, the previous description probably couldn't fully capture the movie's essence, but this one makes it sound like an erotic thriller. (Could you imagine somebody going into this thinking this was like a Gregory Dark joint? I say this having seen none of his thrillers and only his hardcore movies, although I must admit an MTV-influenced Mulholland Drive starring, say, Lois Ayres is something I find extremely intriguing.) But you know what? Good for them. Among other things, this movie, with its two all-timer sex scenes, feels like one of the last hurrahs from an era when mainstream American movies could be unabashedly horny, before we were sentenced to an endless barrage of immaculately muscular bodies in spandex (stupid sexy Flanders) somehow drained of all sex appeal (god forbid somebody pop a boner...or ladyboner, let's be egalitarian here). I apologize if I'm coming off as a little gross, but having been able to barely leave the house for practically a year and a half, watching sexy movies like this is one of the few remaining thrills at my disposal. Please, this is all I have.

Now I suppose I should say something about the movie itself, but it might be a challenge given how elusive it is in certain respects (Lynch is notoriously cagey about offering interpretations of his movies) and, as a result, how heavily it's been scrutinized over the years. No doubt any analysis I offer as to the movie's overarching meaning will come off extremely dumbassed. What I will note however, is that for whatever reason, the scene I remembered most vividly is where Justin Theroux walks in on his wife with Billy Ray Cyrus, particularly the candy pink paint he dumps on her jewellery as revenge. We've been following Theroux, a movie director, as he's been having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, having had control over casting his lead actress taken from him, which he proceeds to process by taking a golf club to a windshield of his producers' car and then reacting as above when he finds his wife with the singer of "Achy Breaky Heart".

With his Dune having been notoriously tampered with by producers, I suspect there's a bit of Lynch's own experience in the scene with the producers, which plays like an entirely arbitrary set of rituals deciding the fate of his movie with no regard for his opinion or even basic logic. While I don't know how particular Dino DeLaurentiis was about his espresso, I did laugh. Now, taking the reading that the first two acts of the movie are a fantasy of Naomi Watts' character, who is revealed to be miserable and ridden with jealousy in the third act, the amount of time we spend with Theroux is maybe hard to justify. Is this perhaps her "revenge" on him, his romantic and professional success having been flushed away while he flounders in search of greater meaning to his arc? Aside from possible autobiographical interest, these scenes do play like a riff on the idea that everyone is the main character in their own story, and if the Watts and Laura Harring characters can be thought of as having merged or swap identities, then perhaps Theroux's arc is the remainder of that quotient. (Now, it's worth noting that aside from being insecure and arrogant, Theroux in this movie is a less stylish than the real Lynch. If Watts conjures the best version of herself in her dream, Lynch maybe doesn't want his dream avatar outshining him.)

Now why did the Cyrus scene stick with me all these years when other details had slipped? Mostly because I'd found it amusing, partly because of the extra specific image Lynch produces, and somewhat because of the casting of Billy Ray Cyrus. Now, I don't have any special relationship to the Cyrus' body of work, but Lynch's casting of him, with his distinct mix of bozo, dudebro and hunk, results in a very specific comedic effect. This is something Lynch does elsewhere in the movie, like when he has Robert Forster show up as a detective for a single scene. The Forster role is likely in part a leftover from the movie's origins as a TV pilot, but the effect is similar (albeit less comedic). Melissa George appears as a woman who may or may not be a replacement for Watts in some realm of reality. Other directors obviously cast actors for their screen presence and the audience's relationship to their career, but the way Lynch does it feels particularly pointed, as if he's reshaping them entirely into iconography. The effect is particularly sinister with the presence of Michael J. Anderson, with whom he worked previously on Twin Peaks, and Monty Montgomery as a mysterious cowboy who dangles the secret of the movie over Theroux's character.

Cowboys in movies are frequently heroic presences (see any number of westerns) and are otherwise innocuously stylish (I confess I've come dangerously close to ordering a Stetson hat and a pair of cowboy boots), but the presence of one here feels like a ripple in the movie's reality. A dreamy, brightly lit mystery set in Los Angeles should have no place for a cowboy. It ain't right. (It's worth noting that Lynch at one point copped to admiring Ronald Reagan for reminding him of a cowboy. Is this his expression of a changed opinion? I have no idea, but Lynch has never struck me as all that politically minded.) Neither is the hobo that appears behind the diner. Certainly hobos have made their homes behind diners, but this one's presence and the way Lynch produces him feel again like a ripple in the the movie's narrative. Jump scares are frequently knocked for being lazy and cheap devices to generate shocks, but the one here gets under your skin.

Now about the movie's look. This starts off like a noir, and the mystery plot on paper would lead you to think that's how the whole movie plays, but the cinematography is a lot brighter, with almost confection-like colours, than that would lead you to believe, at least during the daytime scenes. This is another element that likely comes from its TV origins, but it does give the movie a distinctly dreamlike, fantastical quality that a more overtly cinematic look, like the one Lynch used in Lost Highway a few years earlier, might not capture. This is one of the reasons I think this movie works better than that one, and there's also the fact that the amateur sleuthing that drives the bulk of the plot here serves as a more pleasing audience vantage point than the male anxieties that fuel the other film. I also would much rather hang out with Naomi Watts and Laura Harring than a charisma void like Balthazar Getty.

The manufactured warmth of the daytime scenes also results, like in Blue Velvet, in the nighttime scenes feeling like they're in a completely different setting, one which perhaps offers the key to unlocking the mystery, or at least revealing the phoniness of the movie's surfaces. I think of the evocative Club Silencio sequence, which comes as close as anything in the movie to laying its illusions bare. ("No hay banda.") But at times Lynch will throw in disarmingly childlike, inexplicable imagery, like the dancing couples against a purple screen in the opening, something that would seem tacky and amateurish elsewhere but feels oddly cohesive here. There are a number of directors whose work I admire for being "dreamlike", and putting them side by side they all feel quite distinct (you would never mistake a Lucio Fulci film for a Lynch), but they have the unifying idea of imbuing the tactile qualities of film with the truly irrational to really burrow into your subconscious. Other directors have made movies with some of the same elements as Mulholland Drive, but none have put them together in quite the same way.

#film #movie review #mulholland drive #david lynch