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violetszone · 10 months

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This Marriage Will Break You

Pierre Gasly x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had to arrange a marriage contract with Pierre to cover up his old relationship. He was still seeing his ex while you were madly in love with him and according to everyone you were the bad woman in this triangle.But when your breaking point came, Pierre noticed you.

a/n: I tried so hard to make it long, It's probably pretty ridiculous but that's about all I can do (not edited writing btw)

You had to marry Pierre to cover up his past relationship, you didn't know why they chose you, you just wanted to believe it was because you were so good at acting. Your acquaintance with Pierre was based on your childhood, in fact, you grew up in the same environment as him and you liked him all your life, actually this arranged marriage made you happy at first.

But as time went on, you saw that this marriage was actually the opposite of what you expected, a kind of marriage that will upset you.Of course, you didn't have very high expectations, but you didn't expect that Pierre would still secretly meet with his ex, that you would still bury your love for him in your heart and that the fans would blame you for the separation of the two of them.

According to Pierre's fans, you were the bad woman, but no one saw what was going on inside the house and what happened was not very heartwarming. You were under pressure from your family because your relationship was not realistic, and Pierre almost never came home, when he came, he only went to his room and slept, the company said that you should try harder, and your relationship with the fans was not very good, when they saw you, they either looked at you badly or simply ignored you. Pierre, on the other hand, was enjoying his life with his ex.

Within a few months you had collapsed physically and mentally from the pressures on you, but it took a long time for Pierre, your family and the company to realize that. You were trying to take care of the house as much as you could, and one day, while cleaning in the morning, you accidentally broke a frame and that was your breaking moment. You didn't know that Pierre was at home, you sat in front of the frame and you started to cry, you didn't know why he was crying, you were just too full and you couldn't stand it, you tried to shut yourself up with a sigh, but you couldn't stop. Then the door in front of you opened and Pierre came out of his room, you tried to shut yourself up by pressing your lips together, but it didn't work. Pierre felt a pain in his heart when he saw you, he had never seen you like this and he was just realizing how much weight you had lost in a few months, he came and hugged you.

You didn't want this, you didn't want him to pity you, you tried to get rid of his arms, but you couldn't afford it and continued to cry, he hugged you and stroked your hair until you calmed down, and when he finally asked "Are you okay Y/N", you just shook your head and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You needed his attention before, not now, as soon as he broke the hug, you stood up and brought the vacuum cleaner to clean the floor. Pierre was watching you sadly, forcibly took the broom from your hand and stopped it "Stop doing that please" you looked at him angrily "What, did you think I'm in this house now? I'm sorry I won't make a noise again. You can go on with your life as if I'm not there" as you reached for the machine he pulled back and he grabbed you and walked you to the sofa he made you sit down "Do you realize what you've become Y/N? what's going on with you"

"Why are you interested right now, why are you here right now, it's 11 o'clock, don't you have to have breakfast with your girlfriend?" Pierre turned for a moment and looked at the clock and that was enough for you. You stood up angrily Pierre pressed your shoulders and made you sit down again."Y/N I'm sorry I know this marriage wasn't quite what we both expected but,pff whatever, I'm just sorry I didn't realize you were getting into this, okay now wait a minute" Pierre pulled out his phone and called the company. He told them that he had been secretly seeing his ex for months, how he neglected you, how you had become because of the pressure they put on you, he told them that he would take care of you from now on and that it was his responsibility and not to disturb you.

It surprised you that he was so interested in you, but you still didn't expect much from him.You said, "Is it over? Thanks for your help" and got up from the couch and he grabbed you by the arm as you passed him. "Get ready we're going out" you were surprised "You have to go to a party? I have to dress accordingly, you know then they talk badly about me" Pierre sighed "No, I'm taking you out to dinner, I'm going to spend time with my wife" normally you were always kind to him because you didn't have a problem with him,and you loved him but now you were tired.

"Pierre you don't have to take care of me, I'm really fine you can go about your business I have to clean the floor okay" he didn't stop you when you stood up but called after you "No you're not okay this is not the confident strong and happy woman I married and I want that woman back so I will clean the floor and you're going to come to dinner with me wearing whatever you want, okay?" You knew it wouldn't do any good to oppose him, so you just nodded at him.

On your way to your room to change, you heard the sound of the machine and smiled a little.You were ready in 1 hour, you were dressed comfortably but stylishly you left your room looking for your lipstick in your bag Pierre was sitting on the sofa waiting for you he said "you look beautiful" you looked at him he was smiling and he said sincerely you thanked him and smiled.

While you were spending time together in the restaurant, you realized that he was interested in you for real. You were better than in the morning, you felt happier, you thought you would go home after you finished your meal and got up, but Pierre took you to the beach You were surprised that he was holding your hand. "Oh right, there are people," you said to yourself, but Pierre was holding your hand because he wanted to. You sat on the dock "Thanks for the food Pierre, I'm feeling better" nodded and smiled, it was a pleasant moment. then his phone rang of course his girlfriend was calling but Pierre didn't pick up his phone.

After that day, your life started to progress like a normal marriage for a long time, you were cooking together, cleaning the house, going out and getting to know each other.One night, Pierre said that you were going to attend an important event, you both got ready in a stylish way, holding hands and got into the car. Pierre looked a little nervous you took his hand to comfort him he smiled an kissed the top of you hand.

When you arrived at the place of the invitation, Pierre opened the door for you to get off and took his hand, you went in hand in hand again, of course, because it was a famous invitation, the press was there and everyone went crazy when they saw both of you.Pierre looked at you to make sure you were comfortable. You looked at him and smiled, after a few poses, you walked in, met and talked to the invitees. While you were chatting with someone, Pierre was only watching you, he was looking at you as if he was in love with you.

You had a lot of fun at the party with Pierre, you laughed, you danced, until the person who will spoil your taste approaches you with anger, Pierre's ex-girlfriend.You were laughing again at a joke Pierre made when someone came and grabbed you by the arm, and when you looked, you saw that it was him, of course Pierre immediately freed your arm from his hand and pulled you to him, "What do you think you're doing?" he asked angrily. "Pierre, do you realize how long you haven't been answering my calls and it's only because of this little bug" Pierre raised your hand with the ring on your finger and his own, and showed the girl, "If you remember, I'm married and it's been a long time since I finished this with you, did you hear me now, go away, and don't ever come near my wife again"

You were in shock and everyone was watching you as she walked away angrily Pierre turned to you and looked at your red arm. "Are you okay, did she hurt you a lot?" you nodded as if to say i'm fine "Pierre everyone is watching us can we go home" He looked around nervously, but when he turned to you, his gaze softened.He stroked your cheek with one hand then took your hand and took you out of there.

In the car, neither of you spoke at all, but it was clear how angry Pierre was, which frightened you a little.When he suddenly stopped the car and turned to you, you almost banged your head forward due to the sudden brake and your eyes widened in fear, "I'm sorry Y/N. But I have to say this, I won't let that woman come near us again okay won't spoil your mood" You nodded, but you couldn't believe what had actually happened."you were serious when you were angry with her ,you don't see her anymore" he just nodded.

"I haven't seen her since the day I promised to protect you.I should have done this sooner though" you smiled at him "Thank you" he looked at you "For what?" you watched him for a while "For being with me, by my side" He reached out and took you hand "Of course we're married after all and I have to take good care of my wife, and it wouldn't be right for me to know that my wife is madly in love with me and make her suffer like that"

Surprised, you pulled your hand back "You knew" Pierre laughed "Of course I knew Y/N, imagine if anyone else had gone through what you went through, they would have divorced me on the second day" what he said was right the reason you put up with him was because you fell in love with him.Pierre approached and took both of your hands, "I apologize to you with all my heart, will you let me love you as you love me" you nodded happily.

In the months that followed, everything became more beautiful than you had imagined. You had a real marriage with Pierre. You both loved each other very much. As Pierre promised you, you never saw that woman again.After the fans learned the truth about Pierre's ex, they started to treat you more kindly. You had the comfort of walking hand in hand in the paddock with Pierre.You two were happy.

-------------------------------------------------------

@gaslysainz

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moondirti · 1 year

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So we’ve all established that Simon is a dom king. Hear me out here, what if one day you miraculously manage to convince him to let you ride him, and he miraculously concedes. And the entire time, he’s making fun of you. “Oh is my pet too tired?” And even if you try and prove your point by grinding down on him harder, his breath barely stutters before his big strong hands wrap almost entirely around your waist, and slam you down onto him. “Can’t get off without me can you?” And he’s just teasing you constantly, making fun of you, reminding you that it doesn’t matter what you try, he’s always in control, and he’s the only one that can make you cum.

I’m simping so fucking hard for this man, I want him to choke me and just kill me tbh

YOU’RE KILLING ME! My god yes, he would be such a little shit if he ever lets you take control.

Simon’s not trying to discourage you, no. He thinks it’s cute when you get pent up, aggressive with your teeth bared, wanting to be on top for a change. So he lets you; though, a major part of the reason (nothing he’d admit) is for the inevitable amusement he’ll derive when you realise you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. He’s big in missionary, but in cowgirl? He’s practically fucking your guts.

Your breath stutters when you’re halfway down; already, you’re stretched beyond what you can handle. Usually, Ghost is there to rub your clit and ease the tension in your muscles, but hey, you’re in charge, pet. That’s up to you now.

So you swallow your tears and press your hands to his wide chest, balancing yourself on your haunches as his throbbing cock splits you open. You’ve lost the plot, can’t even muster the focus to command him. Simon sees it in your quivering thighs, the sweat that plasters your hair to your forehead. He knows you’re sorely regretting this, and hell if he doesn’t take the opportunity to tease you relentlessly for it.

‘Something the matter?’ and ‘C’mon now, be a big girl.’ All the while, you’re close to collapsing, situating yourself fully on him, his balls pressed tight to the dip of your ass. He can’t deny that it feels good; you’re impossibly tighter like this, sucking him in like a soaked vacuum. But after one, two, three thrusts, you’re finally sobbing - begging him to just flip you over and fuck you properly.

Who is he to refuse?

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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months

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Private equity plunderers want to buy Simon & Schuster

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Last November, publishing got some excellent news: the planned merger of Penguin Random House (the largest publisher in the history of human civilization) with its immediate competitor Simon & Schuster would not be permitted, thanks to the DOJ's deftly argued case against the deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

When I was a baby writer, there were dozens of large NY publishers. Today, there are five - and it was almost four. A publishing sector with five giant companies is bad news for writers (as Stephen King said at the trial, the idea that PRH and S&S would bid against each other for books was as absurd as the idea that he and his wife would bid against each other for their next family home).

But it's also bad news for publishing workers, a historically exploited and undervalued workforce whose labor conditions have only declined as the number of employers in the sector dwindled, leading to mass resignations:

https://lithub.com/unlivable-and-untenable-molly-mcghee-on-the-punishing-life-of-junior-publishing-employees/

It should go without saying that workers in sectors with few employers get worse deals from their bosses (see, e.g., the writers' strike and actors' strike). And yup, right on time, PRH, a wildly profitable publisher, fired a bunch of its most senior (and therefore hardest to push around) workers:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/18/books/penguin-random-house-layoffs-buyouts.html

But publishing's contraction into a five-company cartel didn't occur in a vacuum. It was a normal response to monopolization elsewhere in its supply chain. First it was bookselling collapsing into two major chains. Then it was distribution going from 300 companies to three. Today, it's Amazon, a monopolist with unlimited access to the capital markets and a track record of treating publishers "the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

Monopolies are like Pringles (owned by the consumer packaged goods monopolist Procter & Gamble): you can't have just one. As soon as you get a monopoly in one part of the supply chain, every other part of that chain has to monopolize in self-defense.

Think of healthcare. Consolidation in pharma lead to price-gouging, where hospitals were suddenly paying 1,000% more for routine drugs. Hospitals formed regional monopolies and boycotted pharma companies unless they lowered their prices - and then turned around and screwed insurers, jacking up the price of care. Health insurers gobbled each other up in an orgy of mergers and fought the hospitals.

Now the health care system is composed of a series of gigantic, abusive monopolists - pharma, hospitals, medical equipment, pharmacy benefit managers, insurers - and they all conspire to wreck the lives of only two parts of the system who can't fight back: patients and health care workers. Patients pay more for worse care, and medical workers get paid less for worse working conditions.

So while there was no question that a PRH takeover of Simon & Schuster would be bad for writers and readers, it was also clear that S&S - and indeed, all of the Big Five publishers - would be under pressure from the monopolies in their own supply chain. What's more, it was clear that S&S couldn't remain tethered to Paramount, its current owner.

Last week, Paramount announced that it was going to flip S&S to KKR, one of the world's most notorious private equity companies. KKR has a long, long track record of ghastly behavior, and its portfolio currently includes other publishing industry firms, including one rotten monopolist, raising similar concerns to the ones that scuttled the PRH takeover last year:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/08/07/books/booksupdate/paramount-simon-and-schuster-kkr-sale.html

Let's review a little of KKR's track record, shall we? Most spectacularly, they are known for buying and destroying Toys R Us in a deal that saw them extract $200m from the company, leaving it bankrupt, with lifetime employees getting $0 in severance even as its executives paid themselves tens of millions in "performance bonuses":

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/03/private-equity-bosses-took-200m-out-of-toys-r-us-and-crashed-the-company-lifetime-employees-got-0-in-severance/

The pillaging of Toys R Us isn't the worst thing KKR did, but it was the most brazen. KKR lit a beloved national chain on fire and then walked away, hands in pockets, whistling. They didn't even bother to clear their former employees' sensitive personnel records out of the unlocked filing cabinets before they scarpered:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/23/exploring-the-ruins-of-a-toys-r-us-discovering-a-trove-of-sensitive-employee-data/

But as flashy as the Toys R Us caper was, it wasn't the worst. Private equity funds specialize in buying up businesses, loading them with debts, paying themselves, and then leaving them to collapse. They're sometimes called vulture capitalists, but they're really vampire capitalists:

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2022/05/private-equity-buyout-kkr-houdaille/

Given a choice, PE companies don't want to prey on sick businesses - they preferentially drain off value from thriving ones, preferably ones that we must use, which is why PE - and KKR in particular - loves to buy health care companies.

Heard of the "surprise billing epidemic"? That's where you go to a hospital that's covered by your insurer, only to discover - after the fact - that the emergency room is operated by a separate, PE-backed company that charges you thousands for junk fees. KKR and Blackstone invented this scam, then funneled millions into fighting the No Surprises Act, which more-or-less killed it:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/21/all-in-it-together/#doctor-patient-unity

KKR took one of the nation's largest healthcare providers, Envision, hostage to surprise billing, making it dependent on these fraudulent payments. When Congress finally acted to end this scam, KKR was able to take to the nation's editorial pages and damn Congress for recklessly endangering all the patients who relied on it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/14/unhealthy-finances/#steins-law

Like any smart vampire, KKR doesn't drain its victim in one go. They find all kinds of ways to stretch out the blood supply. During the pandemic, KKR was front of the line to get massive bailouts for its health-care holdings, even as it fired health-care workers, increasing the workload and decreasing the pay of the survivors of its indiscriminate cuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/11/socialized-losses/#socialized-losses

It's not just emergency rooms. KKR bought and looted homes for people with disabilities, slashed wages, cut staff, and then feigned surprise at the deaths, abuse and misery that followed:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/kendalltaggart/kkr-brightspring-disability-private-equity-abuse

Workers' wages went down to $8/hour, and they were given 36 hour shifts, and then KKR threatened to have any worker who walked off the job criminally charged with patient abandonment:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

For KKR, people with disabilities and patients make great victims - disempowered and atomized, unable to fight back. No surprise, then, that so many of KKR's scams target poor people - another group that struggles to get justice when wronged. KKR took over Dollar General in 2007 and embarked on a nationwide expansion campaign, using abusive preferential distributor contracts and targeting community-owned grocers to trap poor people into buying the most heavily processed, least nutritious, most profitable food available:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

94.5% of the Paycheck Protection Program - designed to help small businesses keep their workers payrolled during lockdown - went to giant businesses, fraudulently siphoned off by companies like Longview Power, 40% owned by KKR:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/20/great-danes/#ppp

KKR also helped engineer a loophole in the Trump tax cuts, convincing Justin Muzinich to carve out taxes for C-Corporations, which let KKR save billions in taxes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/02/broken-windows/#Justin-Muzinich

KKR sinks its fangs in every part of the economy, thanks to the vast fortunes it amassed from its investors, ripped off from its customers, and fraudulently obtained from the public purse. After the pandemic, KKR scooped up hundreds of companies at firesale prices:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/30/medtronic-stole-your-ventilator/#blackstone-kkr

Ironically, the investors in KKR funds are also its victims - especially giant public pension funds, whom KKR has systematically defrauded for years:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/22/stimpank/#kentucky

And now KKR has come for Simon & Schuster. The buyout was trumpeted to the press as a done deal, but it's far from a fait accompli. Before the deal can close, the FTC will have to bless it. That blessing is far from a foregone conclusion. KKR also owns Overdrive, the monopoly supplier of e-lending software to libraries.

Overdrive has a host of predatory practices, loathed by both libraries and publishers (indeed, much of the publishing sector's outrage at library e-lending is really displaced anger at Overdrive). There's a plausible case that the merger of one of the Big Five publishers with the e-lending monopoly will present competition issues every bit as deal-breaking as the PRH/S&S merger posed.

(Image: Sefa Tekin/Pexels, modified)

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/08/vampire-capitalism/#kkr

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theladyregret · 2 years

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Wow, I...vastly underestimated how much you guys would vibe with the whole The Walking Dead in Space thing lol ok well...now that I have a day off from work here's some of the ideas I've been thinking about while bored this week.

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Human Diplomat: Hey, is there a reason all the water access areas don't allow humans anymore? Don't you guys know we have high water requirements?

Alien Space Station technician: Oh! No one told you?

Human: Told us what?

Alien: Sorry, they were supposed to tell you. Our apologizes, this must look terrible.

Human: Tell. Us. What?

Alien: Our bio filters detected the disease you all carry in the stations water supply after you visited last. Our scientists ran some tests and found that it can survive almost indefinitely in water and is highly resistant to our water treatments. We had to purge and decontaminate the entire system. We created a separate system for your use that is more isolated. You can use those....I....uh...are you ok? Is this sufficient?

Human, frantically writing in a log book: Oh? Yes, fine...that's fine!

Second human: I think you guys just solved a centuries old mystery for us.

Alien, looking confused: What mystery?

Second human: How our species all became infected so quickly.

Alien: You never found out?

Human: It wiped out 99% of our population during the initial outbreak...the how and why of it kind of stopped mattering after a bit, you know?

---------

Galactic News Reporter: Tragedy today after the recent excavation of the lost human mining crew in sector 92. Against human recommendations, rescuers continued their efforts throughout the week. The human deceased, commonly referred to as Walkers, attacked and killed several rescue parties before the site had to be bombed by air support military. Diplomats from several species met once again today to discuss the risks of open contact with the Humans and whether stricter protocols need to be put in place.

Video feed cuts to a human diplomat standing in a room full of multiple different aliens: We told you what to do! You didn't listen! You never listen to us! If you had, none of this would have happened!

Alien Politician: You recommended that the tunnels be collapsed before any excavation be conducted prior to the time frame denoted by safety regulations which would have condemned any potential survivors-

Human, hitting the table in front of him with his fists: YOU'RE STILL NOT LISTENING!

--------

Transport ship pilot over PA system: Our ship is currently on approach to the Human home planet of Terra. Be aware that we will be passing through the debris field left over from the Human Colony Wars which will require us to drop out of FTL. Our ship is specially equipped for this journey so rest assured we are in no danger from the debris. It is recommended that any windows be shielded for the duration of this time, thank you.

Human passenger pulls the shade down for their window with a sigh.

The alien next to them looks curious: Why do the windows need to be covered?

Human: Some people find the...debris...disturbing. *the way they said debris sounded sarcastic*

Alien: ...humans find broken ships disturbing?

Human: You didn't do very much research before coming here did you?

Alien just looks confused.

Human reaches over and opens the window cover. They pass close by one of the wrecked ships and at first it looks like any other debris field...then something moves and they realize it's a body. A human body floating in space. It jerks and twists as they pass by. Mouth opening and closing. The alien jerks back in surprise.

Human: The vacuum of space means they don't decompose so...all those people who didn't die properly...they're just out there...like that. Thousands of soldiers. Ships just full of Walkers.

They pass by another ship. This one looks intact and newer.

Alien: That's not human...

Human: Pirates...scavengers. Sometimes they try to come in and take metal from the ships...but...without the proper shielding.

They pass to the other side and there's a hole torn into the side of the ship.

Human: Just another corpse in a field of corpses. Food for the dead.

Alien looking horrified: Why not clean it out?

Human: Why take the risk? Besides...it keeps out the unwanted.

They pass by the corpse of an alien floating in space that still has a walker clinging to it, idly chewing on what still has flesh attached to it. This walker looks more decayed then the other one had. The alien looks like they might be sick so the human shuts the shade again. They don't talk the rest of the way.

#The Walking Dead #The Walking dead in space #humans are space orcs #zombies in space #humans are deathworlders

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ladylooch · 7 months

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To be honest I have really missed angry sex with Em and Timo "You are mine" is the best!!! Also I love the idea of Em teasing T when she dances but he can't touch her and later she has to pay for it.

sorry for my dark thoughts

Part One!

A/N: Bby! Never, EVER apologize for dark, dirty thoughts about these two. We love it!

Also, I was gonna say, close your eyes while you read this…. Then remembered um that’s not how this works. 🤣 Writing this smut made me that stupid. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.3k

“You know I hate when you lie to me.” Timo’s breath touches my left ear.

I can’t see him, but I can feel his warmth over my naked body as he ties my hands together above my head. He wanted to tie them to the headboard but I said no, not when I’m blindfolded too. His obsession with ties is coming in handy tonight.

I snort out a soft breath as I feel his lips feather along my jaw. My teeth almost chatter at the intensity of not being able to touch or see him. My fingers curl together so I am holding my own hand. His fingers stroke softy down from my wrists to the sides of my breasts. Each stroke tightens my nipples into stiff peaks. His breath moves down my throat, hovering over my left nipple. Wetness collects there from a soft brush of his tongue as he pushes my boundaries. I say nothing, quietly consenting. He strokes the texture of the bud once more.

“Mmm.” I moan, then bite my bottom lip. His teeth gently bite down on the peak before he moves to the left, gnawing into my less sensitive flesh. I can feel the bruising forming beneath his mouth. He loves me purple from his mouth in the morning, so he can kiss all along my skin while we make love. It’s our way- rough at night, sweet in the morning.

It took less than twenty minutes for Timo to convince my brother and Lexi to take Lio for the evening. The convenience of them upstairs will be difficult to part with once our house is done in Westfield. The whole car ride back to our apartment was agony. We parted with our son after changing him into pajamas. Then Timo turned to me and told me exactly what he was going to do to me, whispering it in my ear as he reached between my thighs in the elevator.

“Walking? Not a thing for you tomorrow.”

Timo’s lips on my inner thighs cause me to jolt slightly. He didn’t warn me where he was going to next. He slowly spreads my thighs apart then pauses. I feel the light breeze of him blowing on my folds. I try to close my thighs against the tingling sensation, already feeling overwhelmed. His strength turns me on further and my inner muscles clench.

“Your pussy is begging for me.” Timo whispers. He feels along my slick flesh with two fingers, then gently works them into my entrance. I’ve been wet since we left the party and having him fill me temporarily scratches the yearning itch in my core. He curls his fingers up, touching the velvet spot in my heat that will get me to curl up. It works. I buck up, then collapse back down to the bed.

He smiles against my folds, then moves his mouth into the vacuuming suction he knows I love. I groan, grinding my hips into his face. He lets me for a moment, then pins my hips down. My mouth opens, breathing heavily as he adds his tongue into the equation.

“Baby.” I whimper.

“Hmm?” He hums against me. I shudder. My hands grip into fists, fighting against the silk of his tie while his mouth works deeper, faster, perfectly.

“T.” I cry this time, full on sobbing as he suctions harder. His tongue caresses my sensitive bud more, wiggling at a vibrating, fast speed that is somehow better than anything I’ve felt before. I begin to shake. Timo holds me down harder. The pressure of his hands on me, the lack of visual, has an incredible orgasm rocking through me. It’s so intense, I’m worried I may pass out. I gasp in a breath like I’m coming up from drowning. “Oh, oh, oh oh.” I whine as he keeps going. “Ohmygod.” I grit my teeth, then relax when he moves his mouth, letting me come down from my high.

My blood pours through my ears, creating a freight train sound that melts me back into the bed.

But Timo is relentless.

“Knees.” He demands, throwing my thigh enough so I roll slightly onto my left side. I curl up, shifting my body weight. My sense of space on the bed is limited. “You’re in the middle” Timo says, a slight chuckle as he watches me try to feel for the edge.

“Asshole.” I snip. “I’m blindfolded and you ate me within an inch of my damn life.”

“Aw, you hate that baby?” He asks, brushing his hand over my ass cheek. He gives is a slap, then smooths his hand over the mark. He leans forward, pressing his lips there too.

“No. But you could be nice to me.”

“I’m about to be really nice to you.”

His chest connects with my back. I feel his engorged head at my wanting entrance. I hang my head slightly down. His fingers trail over my hip, then coming to my wet slit. They work their way between the layers of flesh, finding my clit. He rubs. I arch. His other hand grabs my throat, keeping me there. His mouth assaults the side of my neck. His thumb and pointer finger hold either side of my jaw. When my mouth opens to moan, he slides his thumb against my bottom lip, then plunges inside. He presses down on my tongue. I hum against the appendage. He drops my face from his hand, letting me fall back and catch myself on the bed.

The head of his cock strokes against my folds next. I whimper, about to beg until he thrusts into me fast. He bottoms out, causing me to shiver. He lazily fucks me, pressing in and out without guiding himself. If I could see him, his head would be tilted back, praising the ceiling at his filing of my tight, wet core.

“Fucking hell, Em.” He groans. “You like when I tie you up? Hm? That turn you into something else?” He dances around the words, not daring to call me anything further unless I say it first.

“I’m your slut, T.” He bites my shoulder in response. Then works my hair into his fist.

“Yeah, you are, baby. ‘M gonna treat you like one too.”

Those words are the pressure release. Fast and furious fucking bucks our skin together. His deep thrusts have me groaning in front of him. He pulls my hair harder, arching me back so only my finger tips are on the bed. Waves begin to flutter through my pussy with his deep penetration. I mewl, bringing my hands directly below my chest so I can buck back into him. When I do this, Timo slows slightly, letting me help us.

“I love how hard you can fuck me.” I whimper. “So good. Right there.”

“You feel so good today. All slutty and wet and used.” He releases my hair, instead going to stick his finger back into my mouth. I suck it deep, lapping my tongue over it as he dribbles a bit inside of me. I smile, then shove his finger out of my mouth with my tongue. The control is shifting back to me. He’s close. But he won’t cum until I do again.

“Touch me like you did in the car.” I demand. He groans, loving the feminine grunt of pleasure when he strokes my clit. His thrusts are deep and hard, but his touch on my swollen bud is gentle and explorative. I quiver when he finds the right tempo. I reach for his wrist, gripping it hard.

“Ohhhh. Fuck yeah, T. I love this… ohmygod.” I squeeze him hard as I cum, shouting out my appreciation of him to our upstairs neighbors. His hot ribbons coat my inner walls, drawing him deep with my aftershocks. He rests his head on my shoulder as I do tiny little pulses around him. He puffs out a heavy breath with each one. He’s overstimulated but can’t find the desire to tell me to stop.

“We should move.” I tell him after he unties me. “I don’t think I can look those people in the face after that.” He spent the last fifteen minutes kissing the red marks on my skin, apologizing for the one on my breast that will be at Lio’s eye level when he’s feeding tomorrow. He didn’t think that one completely through.

“Sure how about in three months?”

“Great!” I chuckle. Timo kisses the top of my head, stroking my scalp gently. I have a slight headache from how hard he pulled my hair.

But I love it. And him. Tonight I’ll sleep happy, satisfied my little white lie about Trouba got me exactly what I wanted.

#tm: loving & leaving

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yuusishi · 2 years

Note

can I request Ace, Idia, Cater's reaction to Yuu making a video of them doing a cleanup like in those smart homes like these? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SFCEXoRCJzM

Cleaning With Ace, Cater, and Idia!

pairings: Ace Trappola, Idia Shroud, Cater Diamond x gn!Reader

genre: fluff , can be read as either platonic or romantic

cws/tws: none

a/n: sorry this took so long anon 😢 I’m still pretty busy. I actually finished this a few days ago already but I didn’t have the time to format the post n stuff. I also lowkey ran out of ideas for this 💀

Ace Trappola !!

“Dude, what are you doing” Ace says as he stands under the doorway of Ramshackle watching you clean the living room with a multitude of devices while holding up your phone

“I saw some videos on Magicam of people deep cleaning their houses like this so I decided why not do it too” you said not even turning around to face him while you continued to vacuum the dusty couch.

After a few minutes of watching you clean, he got curious and decided to help you (in other words, to play and see what those devices you bought were for). Though he tried to ‘help’ you, it was full of “Ace, no!” “This is how you use it” “You’re going to break it!” inside the dorm, the ghosts even watched from corners to see what all the commotion was about.

In the end you made him sit on the now dust-free couch to ensure the safety of your little cleaning devices, you couldn’t risk any of them breaking, you spent a lot of your allowance for them!

After what felt like hours of deep cleaning the entire dorm, you stood proudly with a mop in hand while Ace silently gawked at how sparkly the place is now, it’s as if it was never abandoned for a couple decades

“Oh well, I suppose I have to hand it to you for making this place not look like it’s falling apart”

“I’m just gonna ignore the last part”.

Idia Shroud !!

“The entrance is cleaner than my entire room” Idia says as he sat on your couch playing around with a handheld game console while you mopped and vacuumed the floors and edges of the dorm, tapping sounds and the whirring of the vacuum being the only sounds in the dorm.

Eventually Idia got bored alternating between opening his console to play and watching you clean, he offered to hold the phone for you so you can clean properly and you took the offer quick as lightning, almost throwing your phone at him, Idia fumbling with the phone in the air trying to catch it and not let it drop on the floor.

You finally sighed, looking at your work like it was a masterpiece and not just a dust-free Ramshackle, Idia walking around with your phone in hand to show off in the video how clean each room looked compared to a few hours ago, his tiny giggles accidentally being recorded.

Idia definitely liked how clean the place is now, it almost makes him want to deep clean his own room as well due to how fresh everything feels

‘If I have a cleaner room it’s definitely going to help me concentrate on my games better…’ he thought.

Cater Diamond !!

Was the one to show you the trend 100% and also convince you to try it as well, saying that it was good for views and also to have Ramshackle be clean, it was a win-win situation so you said sure.

So now here you were, mopping the floor while Cater held your phone occasionally bursting out laughing from how silly this felt like, Cater’s cheers would occasionally pop out and make you laugh. You two would switch between cleaning and recording since he felt bad if he were to make you do all the cleaning.

You both collapsed on the floor for a good few minutes once all the recording and cleaning was done, feeling refreshed against the sparkling floor. Looking over at Cater you saw him with your phone in hand speeding up the video before hitting the post button, sighing in relief that it was finally done

“The things we do for Magicam fame” you joked.

Normally Cater wouldn’t like sitting on the floor of Ramshackle considering its age and the dust but now he was freely laying on it after almost slipping on it earlier from how smooth it is

“I should really get to cleaning my own side of me and Trey’s room” he sighed, feeling too lazy to get up

“Whatever you say, I’m not helping you this time”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater x reader

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neurotypical-sonic · 9 months

Text

amy is so so relieved when jewel takes over managing the restoration, and that night when she goes home for what feels like the first time in weeks she's almost dizzy with it. she exhausted, still recovering from the whole metal virus ordeal and spent the last half day bringing jewel up to speed on everything happenjng in the restoration. she cant wait to just go to bed and stay there for a little while

and then she opens the door to the apartment and remembers. the apartment she hasnt been able to return to a lit the past few weeks, months, and even when she could it was only for a short while. she was always rushing, always had things she desperately needed to do. the windows havent been opened in ages, and the air smells stale. dishes are stacked up in the sink, take-out boxes litter the kitchen counter and the table near her couch. she cant remember the last time she vacuumed

she almost bursts into tears. she's exhausted and overwhelmed and its fulling hitting just how bad its gotten. shes ashamed that she let it get this bad, that she couldnt keep on top of it, and she feels lazy and gross and pathetic that shes near tears because she couldnt pick up after herself.

she's dead on her feet and just wants to collapse in bed, but she trudges over to the sink to start washing the dishes, even just some of them. theyre disgusting, and when she pulls out the stacks so she can full the sink with water she gags at the smell. but when she reaches into the cupboard she finds that the dishwashing detergent is empty, she hasnt been able to go shopping in forever and the thought of going now makes her want to curl into a ball.

she abandons trying to do the dishes. she can handle that tomorrow. she can start fixing things tomorrow. right now she needs a shower and then to go to bed. the first thing she sees when she opens up the bathroom door is a spider in the sink. she slams the door close. she very suddenly cannot stand being in this house anymore. she knows her bed isnt dirty, just kinda messy, but the thought of sleeping here makes her skin itch. vanilla is usually very receptive of amy visiting, even staying over. she'll go over to vanillas and stay there for the night and then she'll come back and fix things tomorrow

I cant be bothered typing out the rest but basically she really struggles with that whole situation but tangle n some others find out, and tangle organises for amy to be busy with someone else for a day, so that she and some other friends can spend the day deep cleaning the entire apartment :) amy gets back and cries and then they all have a big sleepover

#wow long post sorry #egg.txt #amy #sonicposting

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scoundrels-in-love · 1 year

Text

I will drown for you, Hold your heart like waves (Far too soon for this, but I am all in)

The gash doesn’t look too bad, Vash decides as he inspects it in the soft light from lanterns hung about the saloon’s exterior. He is just sorry to have worried his travelling companions, a stinging reminder that he is trouble to be near even when he does well, and the spiraling thoughts that come with that. But when Meryl comes to treat the injury, a different kind of unraveling begins. Also on AO3. PART TWO. | Vashmeryl | Barest hints of Mashwood | | Minor Injuries | Self-esteem issues | Mild Hurt/Comfort | Pining | Mutual but they're idiots in love | Not one but two (2!) almost kisses | Head bonks of love and Vash purrs agenda |

The largest moon is waning in the sky, much like the pain in Vash’s hand now that he is letting it rest in his lap. He exhales slowly in time with the final, long note of the song playing in the saloon, spilling out the open windows and floating up the dark sky. There is laughter and cheer filling the space before the next one starts and Vash smiles a little to himself.

A few minutes ago he was there, too, spinning someone in a dance before passing them off to the next partner and feeling like part of the crowd. And it must’ve been that movement that had made the pulse of pain begin beating in his palm again. He’d fought with it for another moment, before realizing he was going to get someone’s hand bloody even through the thin bandage and made his exit from the party.

The gash doesn’t look too bad, Vash decides as he inspects it in the soft light from lanterns hung about the saloon’s exterior. It could’ve been worse, for him and most certainly for the child he’d shielded from toppling boards as a haphazardly stacked pile collapsed. He still feels the warmth of relief about that, even the genuine panic in Meryl’s face couldn’t take it away. Vash is just sorry to have worried her (and the other two, though they had made some attempt to conceal it, Wolfwood even giving a light smack on the back of his head for his recklessness), a stinging reminder that he is trouble to be near even when he does well.

Vash hopes his traveling partners haven’t noticed him leaving just yet. Last he had seen them, Roberto had been tapping rhythm on the counter and watching how Wolfwood twirled Meryl, her laughter a sound Vash had realized he could pick out easily even among so many other lovely ones in the saloon. How long since he had last heard it? Or Wolfwood’s quiet chuckle? Felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe two - Rollo’s and Livio’s. Vash’s smile crumples at the thought.

It's not easy to forget, Vash doesn't know how to do it at all actually, but he knows how to put so many things away in boxes with loose lids, stacked in a pyramid that has long since outgrown him. He laughs and smiles and kind-of and almost feels it (and doubts his grief is real, since he can), at least while they're mostly closed.

But there are times when some of the lids open and in a chain reaction, spring many others open, too. Memories and pain and ghosts of what ifs and almosts, and a vacuum of isolation and loneliness that consumes all the air in his lungs, pour out, become all he can sense, all he is.

Unless Vash manages to fix the opening lids quickly, trying to close them can become like a game called guacamole or something of the sort that Rem had told him and Nai about - trying to hit a little pest as it pops out of holes rapidly all over the game field. There is no winning, only endless chase until the time runs out and he collapses from exhaustion, from being hollowed out by all he has held onto. The recovery can be hours or days, he never knows.

He can't afford it right now, not when there are people in his life for a brilliant, dangerous moment, not when his journey is only going to take more and more until he sees it through, sees Nai again.

Vash clenches his injured hand, let's the pain tether him to it and nothing else. A pulsing anchor, sinking in the almost-black of his blood as it trickles out. He closes his eyes and focuses on that feeling, the merry tune in the background and tries to ignore the overflowing void on his chest.

It works and it doesn't, but in the end he is distracted enough not to pay attention to who exits the saloon, until the steps come up to where he is sitting on the edge of the deck. He looks up just in time to see Meryl settling down next to him.

“It was getting a bit too loud in there, wasn’t it? Needed some fresh air,” she says as an explanation.

He knows Meryl doesn’t always appreciate crowds and the volume they come with, too, but he knows even better that it’s just an excuse this time. The first aid kit from their shared supplies lying in her lap is a clear enough clue. There is a string plucked in his chest, one that plays a note half sweet and half out of tune, for being known so minutely and cared for. (He’s left that instrument in the dustiest corner of his heart for his safety as much as that of others, where only wind sometimes plays a distorted melody to keep him up at night, and yet, she’s found it so easily.)

Meryl unzips the first aid kid and takes his hand in hers, brings it closer to her face to inspect as the line between her brows deepens. His fingertips could touch her face, brush over her cheek, and maybe it is that thought that loosens his tongue.

"You can be honest with me," Vash says and the words have the taste of overripe, borderline spoiled fruit. He tries to turn it into a joke, a tease, just so Meryl would furrow her brows at him for another reason. “It’s that Wolfwood stepped on your toes, isn’t it? I am sure we can turn him into a better dancer in no time, though.” (Most of it, he thinks, would be letting him ease into the truth of being allowed to dance.)

Meryl doesn’t take the bait as she begins to wipe away the excess blood carefully, but she says nothing else either and leaves Vash to think on his own words and ease with which he had revealed too much and nothing at all, the way he has many times wished for the flow of earnestness and truth between them, though he’s concealed - and still does - so much.

But he wants it so badly. Wants to know what makes her happy, what she chuckles to herself about sometimes in the car, what keeps her moving towards truth when no one else has wanted to hear his story, even when she's seen so much of it that no one would blame her for leaving. He wants to know when she is content and sad and afraid. As if he isn't the root of so much that scares her. As if he has any right to speak of being honest when he is so rarely that.

When Meryl is done cleaning, she levels him with a gaze that pins him in place more than any gun that has ever been aimed at him. Vash knows that the impact would be far more devastating, too, and it’s a weapon that has been forged by his foolish heart and her dauntless nature together in equal measure.

“No, you can trust me. Say it hurts when it hurts.”

Before he can even process it, she pours some disinfectant on the gash and Vash yelps, bouncing on the spot. “That hurts.”

“What a crybaby.” Her tone is soft, fond even if he dared to call it that, and Vash is glad she’s looking down at his hand as she begins to bandage it, because he wouldn’t know what to do if she looked at him the same way. She fumbles a little with her task, but it feels like it’s not the first time she’s done something like this. Another thing he wants to ask about.

“You told me to say it,” Vash says instead, as light as he can. Deflect, deflect, dodge until you’re safe.

“And I meant it, so you better keep that in mind,” she replies as she secures the bandage with some medical tape.

Vash flexes his hand a little, notes that it’s wrapped neither too tight nor too loose. A wave of gratitude washes over him, sweeps him into earnestness.

“I will.” He means it - he shouldn’t, but he does. Making promises to Meryl is the easiest and the hardest thing all at once, because he wants to promise her the world. (He would promise himself, but in so many ways, she already has him and he can barely imagine why she would want to know that.) But there is also no one as ill-equipped to make such offers as he is.

Meryl smiles at him, pleased with her job and his words. Then seems to realize she’s still holding his palm and startles, drops her hands into her lap and her gaze onto them. He misses the warmth of it all immediately.

Because he is selfish and because he is a fool with no sense of consequences, he cups her cheek gently, feels her little, startled inhale and the way she leans into his touch just so a second later and it adds another chord somewhere within, a melody starting to weave itself together. “I will,” he repeats, to himself almost more than her. I will remember this, I will remember you, I will remember there was someone who would touch me and ask after my pain.

Vash studies her face, memorizes it in this exact light, and feels it heat beneath his touch. She is like the sunlight in the green gardens of his childhood, a warmth he could bask in for hours (forever when it’s Meryl) with a soft hum in his chest. Like the blooms, he wants to turn and follow her path. Now, he can only look until it begins to be too much, much like the real suns.

Meryl’s eyes flutter shut and briefly, vividly he can picture closing the gap between them, pressing a kiss to her mouth as sweetly as he can. As a thank you, as a promise, as everything he can’t even begin to put into words. It’s the most selfish thing and it’s cutting himself open in hopes that she would gently sew him back together again and his chest aches preemptively, or maybe from the want to give and take something so tender.

He exhales in a soft sigh and presses his forehead to hers, instead. It’s as close to giving as he can do without creating something that will inevitably be crushed and hurt Meryl with its shards.

She reaches for him too, hands coming to rest over his. At first, her touch is almost too light for his prosthetic limb to feel, but then it settles more firmly and his thumb comes to hold her there. As if in response, she rubs hers across the top of his palm, summoning another sigh from him, this one full with contentment.

Vash’s eyes close too and though he cannot reach her the way he can his sisters, it feels like a different kind and no less valuable, special sort of intimacy. The thrum of pulse in his head that had spiked with his emotions eases and he smiles into the quiet, soft space between them.

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, his sense of time has melted away other than when he catches the song change in the saloon, but then he senses it - the energy he keeps concealed breaching the surface, as if coaxed out by the peace he’s wrapped up in. Vash’s eyes fly open as he breaks the contact, scrambling away from Meryl. He sees her surprised expression only for a second before he turns away and hunches over. (Relieved that he had been fast enough not to see her disgust.)

“Vash? Are you okay? Does it hurt? You promised to tell me if you’re in pain.” Her voice is full of concern, but also a certain firmness as if she’s getting ready to lecture him.

“No, no, I’m okay. Just give me a moment, it will pass.” He waves Meryl off and then remembers his fingers have the markings, too, and pulls his hands close to his chest.

“Vash. Why are you doubled over?” Meryl is closer now, hovering just over his shoulder, as if hesitating to touch him in case it would actually cause him further discomfort.

“It’s just… weird.” Inhuman and frightening and perhaps even ugly in its foreignness to the eyes of a human. Bitterly, he thinks how fitting it is that no matter how much of his true essence is visible, his body is marred and unappealing on some fundamental level. Not meant to be seen.

Vash hears her hop off the deck with haste and step around him and he ducks his head deeper into his chest. Why would she even do that?

“Who told you that?” She sounds genuinely angry and it shocks him enough to look at her. Her mouth is set in that angry little pout he has grown familiar with (but somehow more intense), brows furrowed, and her fists are balled up as if she’s getting ready to punch whoever has said such a thing.

“They’re wrong, you know,” she stammers then, like she’s lost the road in the sand and has to get back on track before their car ends up nose deep in a dune, “I mean, it’s not something I or even Wolfwood can do, but it’s not the bad kind of unusual.”

While Vash stares at her in silence, Meryl sits down next to him again, still tense with this odd, angry energy. As if she’s so close to bursting open at the seams on his behalf.

She sounds earnest, but he can’t process it - the words don’t sink in his mind, but instead stay like a shimmering oil on water. It’s him who sinks deeper into his coat, trying to conceal his face behind his collar.

Caught up in his hiding attempt, in slamming shut all the jeering boxes with memories of times when humans have seen him and loathed him, he misses when she shuffles closer and reaches out to softly brush some of his hair out of his face.

“In fact, I think your markings are quite beautiful.”

Part of Vash knows that she would not go so far to comfort him if she didn’t mean it, but the other is still bracing for something as he holds her steady gaze. And even so, her touch plays another note - once, twice until it becomes an even, gentle beat to the melody that had stuttered to silence when he’d begun glowing, but now has returned.

It’s all too much and makes him distracted, because he notices the sound only a second or two before her, jolting upright and away from her touch as someone approaches the door, grabbing at his hood in panic.

Meryl's eyes widen and she surges toward him, yanks the hood over his head, but doesn't let it go. In fact, she pulls him down, toward her until both of their faces are concealed in the soft play of shadow and light beneath the fabric.

His hands find support in the sudden balance shift on her waist, beneath her jacket, and he realizes it'll hide the markings just as well as she's attempting to block the view of his lit up face. The people that exit the saloon a moment later cheer and call something at them, but he barely registers it. His head is full of Meryl, so close to him, her eyes wide and startled, but he can believe it is not because of him.

As the steps rapidly fade in the distance, he braces for the moment she will pull away. Instead, Meryl drifts almost imperceptibly closer still, something akin to awe softening her expression as she truly and well takes him in. It’s so much that there is almost panic starting to seize up his chest and he wants to sink in his coat, all the way through the floorboards, but he can’t make himself move and leave this bubble of fabric, this space where it’s only the two of them and she is looking at him like he’s something wonderful. The feeling is overwhelming and strange and too beautiful to pull away from.

Her hands release his hood and enter the tiny space they share, coming to hover on both sides of his face. He expects, wants, the touch (so keenly that his markings seem to thrum with it), but it doesn’t come and Vash realizes that maybe she’s waiting on him. He nods just so and immediately, her fingertips start gliding over the patterns on his cheeks with featherlight touch.

“You are beautiful,” she whispers, tracing down his jaw now, the warmth of her fingers a pleasant contrast to the innate coolness of his patterns. It’s a sensation he’s never experienced and it sends a tingle down his spine, settles like the buzz of a limb fallen asleep yet much more pleasant somewhere deep in him. Maybe he is emitting it, too, he isn’t sure at this rate.

Her thumbs brush over his chin in a gentle caress, graze his bottom lip and then linger there. The energy in him pulses more rapidly, coaxed into racing by her, and the glow goes up a notch. Vash can see her as well as he would in daylight at this rate, but the blue tone casts Meryl in an almost fairytale-like atmosphere and he, too, feels like he has entered some different world, some different life where this is something he can have. The melody in his heart grows in volume, louder than his doubts and any rationale.

Her breath smells sweet from the drink she had, and he wonders if he'd taste it like lingering sugar on her lips, how it'd be to explore the border between that sweetness and her own. Her lips part, as if she has somehow heard his thoughts, and her gaze regains focus, flickers from his eyes to his mouth.

He inhales and then forgets to exhale, fingers tightening on her hips in some instinctive want to breach this standstill, pull her closer, before everything (him) collapses in on itself from its weight. Maybe she, too, knows the same danger and so Meryl draws him in just as much as she reaches for him and Vash closes his eyes, falls into her gravity.

There’s a whisper of a kiss pressed between his brows, lingering there. Vash had expected nothing and something and none of it had been this. It’s warm and sweet and it brands him, deeper than skin. Sinks in like a new kind of anchor and he wants to believe it will keep him in calmer waters gilded by sunset, the sort he used to see in holograms. He wants to believe it so badly that he forgets to only want it.

Slowly, Meryl pulls away and returns to being eye level with him, her hands still cradling his face. He doesn’t realize there’s a tear rolling down his cheek until she wipes it away with her thumb gently.

He should say something, tell her how beautiful she is, all light and warmth and intensity that could singe his fingers and he’d keep coming back for more. How her eyes are the deep, shifting color of the ocean and he loves watching her thoughts play like waves through them. How her laughter pours into everyone around her, fills generously until even a glass with a bullet hole like Wolfwood is overflowing at the top. How he could spend hours observing her mumble to herself and chew the end of her pencil as she writes in her notebook by the campfire. How there is nothing quite like watching her profile as she hums along to some song, driving them forward to an uncertain destiny. How there’s a symphony in him after years of silence and it’s named after her.

How-

“Hey, lovebirds!”

He feels Meryl jump, in fact it’s possible she’d have fallen off the deck edge if he’d not been holding her, and she pulls out from the cover of his hood, to face Roberto who must be leaning out one of the open windows, judging by the direction of the sound. Vash can’t exactly look directly without turning into a lighthouse, at least not without adjusting the coat, which he starts doing immediately.

“There’s a free round and if you’re not in here in three, I will drink your share, too.” The older man retreats, but the other person leaning against the window’s frame doesn’t.

“Wolfwood-” they say almost in unison. The Corner of Nicholas’ mouth twitches around the cigarette that he then stubs out on the windowsill and tosses out into the sand.

“I think the old man meant it, better come and save him from alcohol poisoning.” And then he’s gone as well, leaving only a quickly fading scent of his cigarette smoke. Vash wishes he had stayed just a moment longer, so he - they - could convince him to join them out here instead. Roberto can take better care of himself than he pretends and the bustle of the party doesn’t seem very appealing at all.

“I-”

“Well-”

They start at the same time and then break off into an awkward laugh. Meryl’s hands, which had been hovering in the air and then tucked behind her back like she’s a kid that’s been caught sneaking into a cookie jar, come to grasp his.

“We don’t have to stay long,” she says and Vash smiles. Of course she would understand, somehow.

He nods in agreement. “Give me a moment to, uh, stop the glowing.”

“Oh, right.” She rubs an absentminded pattern on his skin with her thumb and it does very little to help him come off the high of being touched and seen that keeps him alight, but he focuses on his breathing and tucking away the flares of energy. A subdued, perhaps more human, sense of contentment settles in his chest, drapes itself over all the boxes with loose lids like a heavy, soft blanket.

When he follows Meryl back into the saloon, his hand still in hers, he realizes that maybe letting himself drink and laugh for a bit isn’t a bad idea after all. Maybe he can teach Wolfwood a few dance steps before they call it a night. Maybe he will play the piano for a song or two, even.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vashmeryl #vash x meryl #my fic #rainy writes stuff

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howtofightwrite · 2 years

Note

howdy! I know that you've said that "realistic" is an iffy word, but if I were to write a character who had been poisoned, specifically not by ingesting the poison, what would be a "realistic" time for said poison to set in? (It's a fantasy setting, so the poison in question doesn't need to be one that exists in real life, but I'd like the symptoms/timeframe to make sense-ish) thank you so much for running this blog!!

The problem here isn't realism, it's that poisons have wildly different onset times and symptoms. I'm going to cover some ingested points of reference on the way through, for a more generalized overview.

When it comes to injected poisons, or inhaled poisons, that can be almost instant. It can also take considerable time. If your character is stabbed with a poisoned blade, that's effectively injected. If the poison is slipped into their food, twenty minutes is usually a decent off-the-cuff estimate for ingested medications (like aspirin), but really, it depends on how it gets into the bloodstream. (Also, if the victim has a full stomach, it will take longer to get into the bloodstream from ingestion.)

As for specific symptoms? Writing in a vacuum, without context for what the poison is, or does, it's basically impossible to predict the symptoms. Poison isn't a different kind of damage, it's a chemical (some a fairly complex one) that interferes with your body's ability to continue functioning.

For example, ingesting Strychnine will exhibit symptoms somewhere between 10-20 minutes later. Those symptoms will include convulsions, as the poison attacks the victim's central nervous system. They'll usually expire either from sheer exhaustion, or asphyxiation. In it's native form Strychnine is a powder, which can be absorbed through the skin or inhaled. As far as I know, there isn't a significant difference in the speed that it gets to the bloodstream.

In contrast, Castor Beans (ricin), if consumed, ricin won't begin to manifest symptoms for several hours, and can take a couple days before they start to manifest. Ricin works by dismantling the victim's red bloodcells, and the specific symptoms list is, “fun,” including things like nausea, vomiting, cramping, “circulatory collapse,” blood in urine, coma, and of course, death. (This isn't a complete list.) With ricin, death can take over a week.

Castor beans are interesting though, because while they're incredibly toxic (again, this is where ricin comes from), they can be, “safely” consumed, if they're unchewed, or properly cooked. The beans have a thick coating that limits the victim absorbing the poison during digestion, it's only if the bean is chewed, rupturing the coating, that the body absorbs the ricin during digestion. (Note: I put, “safely,” in scare quotes, because it is still possible for the beans to be partially digested in the stomach, it's just less likely to happen.) The other option involves cooking the beans to the point where the poison itself starts to break down. This is a, “feature,” of human biology that is easy to miss, but our practice of cooking food means that we turn a lot of things that would be lethal into edible. (It also makes digestion and nutrient extraction a lot more efficient. It might sound weird, but cooking your meals provides is a shockingly significant biological advantage.)

This is also assuming acute poisoning. If someone is suffering chronic poisoning, symptoms may not manifest for years. A classic example of (suspected) chronic poisoning is Napoleon Bonaparte. During his exile on the island of Saint Helena (from 1815 to his death in 1821), it's believed that he was subjected to chronic arsenic poisoning. (This is a contentious bit of history, and the British maintain to this day that any arsenic poisoning he suffered would have been the result of accidental exposure, which is not completely unbelievable. His wallpaper was, “arsenic green,” and it was a popular color at the time, but it's vibrant color came from arsenic in the dye.) So, look at those dates again, this went on for over five and a half years (from sometime after October, 1815 to his death in May of 1821.) When symptoms did emerge (in 1820), it appeared to be an unidentified illness, and declining health in early 1821. (If I remember correctly, his official cause of death at the time was stomach cancer.) In fact, the theory that he was poisoned didn't emerge (or at least wasn't published) until the 20thcentury, (and it remains a theory. It has not been proven that he was intentionally poisoned.) The competing explanations are that the weather on Saint Helena (particularly the heat and humidity) caused the arsenic in his wallpaper to become airborne, or that his personal stock of wine had been poisoned.

Cyanide is a classic, but it also illustrates some of the difficulty I'm facing here. If ingested, it can be anywhere from a few to fifteen minutes before it starts to manifest. Where Ricin attacks and destroys red blood cells, cyanide simply blocks red blood cells from absorbing oxygen. This causes the victim to, quite literally, asphyxiate, in a normal atmosphere. However, if cyanide is inhaled, the effects are almost immediate. And, again, we're looking at a poison that can be absorbed through the skin.

So, if it seems like I'm dancing around the subject, it's because this is a very broad field, and there isn't a single answer I can provide. Both of time of action, and what the symptoms would be.

It's worse, because both of these answers can be variable to the victim. As I mentioned, with ingested poisons, the time of onset will be directly related to the contents of the victim's stomach. You know how you're not supposed to drink on an empty stomach? That's the same thing.

So, the short answer is, “I dunno.” It depends how and what they were exposed to.

-Starke

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#Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #poisons

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agirlswritingblog · 10 months

Text

“I just wanna stay in that lavender haze”

I wrote this in like an hour while listening to Taylor Swift so if you see any eras. errors in the text it’s because I didn’t proofread it at all.

Are you ready for some serious cringe?

Sonic X Reader (Bit of a self-insert)

Word count: 479

————————-

It was the weekend once again, which meant it was Y/N’s usual cleaning slot during the week.

‘Superman’ by Taylor Swift was playing from their speaker on the fireplace, Y/N was busy picking up the living room of their apartment. Sonic on the other hand was dusting the little room they called a dining room.

Sonic had been practically forced to listen to Miss Swift all day while his lover cleaned up their apartment.

His significant other had just finished screaming ‘Cruel Summer” and found himself praying his neighbors wouldn’t bitch to their landlord.

He recognized the next song as she constantly played it when she fell over herself about some fictional characters she thought were cute.

She vacuumed the living room to ‘Superman’ while swaying around the room, impressively without her or the vacuum tipping over from her devoted movement.

Sonic smiled softly when she came spinning into the dining room.

“Tall, dark, and beautiful,” she ‘booped’ him on the nose affectionately as she passed by.

“He’s complicated, he’s irrational,” Y/N sang as she re-centered the centerpiece on the tiny square table in the room.

She spun around and giggled, pointing at Sonic she continued, “But I hope someday he’ll take me away and save the day!”

Sonic leaned back against the wall with a chuckle watching his girlfriend perform a literal concert in front of him. He was actually quite impressed, her movements made a lot of sense with the song, almost like she practiced them all the time.

She raised her clenched fist to her face like it was a microphone, “I always forget to tell you, ‘I love you’,”

She threw her hands dramatically behind her and tipped her head up as she belted, “I loved you from the very first day!”

Sonic was smiling stupidly at this cheesy love song his girlfriend was singing in front of him.

“I watch Superman fly away,” She hopped on the table pointing at him while singing into her fist ‘microphone’, “You got a busy day today…. Go save the world, I’ll be around.”

Sonic was pretty much in a trance at this point, watching her sing a ridiculous song and perform like the popstar herself.

“And I watch you fly around the world,” Y/N continued spinning around on the table, “And I hope you don’t save some other girl!”

——————

“I honestly can’t believe you cleaned the entire apartment in a few hours just because you listened to Taylor Swift.”

Sonic had collapsed on the couch and was totally getting to veg for the rest of the day.

“Honestly, I kind of think she gives me superpowers.” Y/N smiled sheepishly.

Sonic raised one eyebrow in confusion, “You literally already have powers?”

“So?” I shrugged, “I’m going to blast Taylor Swift and dance around our room, you are welcome to join me!”

“No way!”

——————-

Yes this story was short but I swear this isn’t the only thing I’ve been working on. I’m hoping within the next week or so to release something that is 1-2k words, but it just depends on what my week ends up looking like.

Anyway, hope everyone has a great rest of their day/night!!!!!!

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reareaotaku · 1 year

Text

A Scary Death

I don't know if I made this obvious, but this version, Hansel and Gretel are older teens. Also, hope my writing has improved since 2021 like wow. Pt 1, Pt 2

You all were munching happily on the candy, until a clunking sounded and you looked towards the front door.

"Teenagers!"

That caught the attention of you all. The woman starts laughing as she walks down her candy path. You all quickly hide the candy behind your backs.

"Oh, I just love...." She starts spinning in a circle, before walking over to you three and yelling, "Teens!" She swishes a knife pretty close to where you three were and Hansel pulled you behind him so as to not get attacked by the crazy woman. She laughs as you all scream bloody murder, but all she did was cut off a candy cane.

"This chick is psycho," You whisper to Hansel, who nods his head in agreement.

"Try the fence, you majestic creatures."

You were confused and looked at the candy in her hand, declining the offer, but the siblings were quick to indulge in the food. You watched, seemingly the only one who was confused by the lady's actions.

Gretel thanks her, before apologizing about us screaming and Hansel quickly retorted-

"We thought you were going to chop us up."

Which caused you elbow hit, quickly shutting him up.

"Chop you up? Why?" She chuckles. "I love teens. They're so.... Oh what's the word.... Exquisite. "

"Come in, young ones. Come, come, come." She kicks open the door, "Stay for dinner. Stay as long as you like."

You could practically see them [Hansel and Gretel] glowing with happiness. They probably thought they found a new home, but you knew better.

"Stay forever." The woman laughs to herself, "Sit. Let me bring you a little snack. You must be hungry." She walks off to a pantry and you watch her closely.

Hansel can see your worried faced, but before he can ask if you're okay, she continues.

"What brings you to my little cottage, my sweethearts?"

"Our parents chopped our heads off," Gretel remarks, causing the baker lady to pop out of the door surprised.

"Really? How inconsiderate. Ha!"

"We're looking for the perfect family," Gretel continues, "Or at least one that won't kill us."

"Are you all siblings?"

"No!" Hansel quickly protest, shocking you, Gretel, and the Baker, "I just mean that Y/n," He gestures towards you, "Is our closet friend. No blood."

"Well, I have some cake for you now," The lady singsongs, "And just about everything you could ever desire."

Hansel looks over at you, almost love struck, but quickly looks away when you spot him. He was strange, but you could never quite figure out what relationship you had with the male.

"How's that for a happily ever after?"

You slept with your legs apart, and Hansel slept between your legs, with Gretel being the only one in a bed. All of you were filled since you ate so much of the candy in the house. You could feel Hansel move, which caused you to wake up.

You looked around the empty room, before spotting a closet and opening it to have a whole bunch of shoes collapse on you.

"How come there's a closet full of shoes?" Hansel asked, quickly waking up. "That one has a foot in it," Hansel points to a very specific, boned shoe, but Gretel was in denial.

"Everything's fine," she repeated, but you knew that was far from true.

You looked back towards Hansel, but he was already back asleep, willing to take his sister's word.

The sun rose and a bunch of food was placed infront of you. You weren't all that hungry, so when Mrs. Baker left, you gave your food to Hansel, who was chowing the food down like a vacuum. You don't think you've ever seen someone eat so quickly. He acted like he hadn't been fed in years, when he just ate last night.

Mrs. Baker comes in, while Hansel is out of it and asks for help in the kitchen, making you suspicious. It doesn't take long before Hansel is heading back up the stairs, alert and hyper, grabbing both you and Gretel.

"We have to go! She tried to cook me!"

Gretel was still out of it, asking him what was going on, but he seemed to be more worried about getting out of there. Though, a burnt-looking Mrs. Baker comes up the stairs, looking annoyed, while Hansel stood infront of you both, almost protectively.

"Oven... doors... don't... lock!" She pulls out a knife and swishes at you as you all begin to run. She opens the door to the room and walks slowly. "Do you really want to know when your parents stopped loving you? The answer is quite simple." She walks over to the window. "Obvious really. They never loved you. Never. Never. Never."

You knew she was trying to get under Hansel's skin, but you were hoping he wouldn't take the bait.

"You know it's true."

To bad for you he did and she caught him, lifting him high up into the air before smacking her teeth and shaking the male. You feel the boned shoe under your hand, smirking while getting a quick idea.

"Eat this, you old hag!" You throw it at her, startling her. She drops Hansel, who lands on his back hard. She starts tumbling backwards, tripping on food and you and Gretel gasp, already seeing where it was going. She ends up falling out of the window, causing you and Gretel to go look out and see what happened.

She landed on the candy cane she had chopped earlier. Gretel's eyes widened at the blood and organs leaking from her stomach. Though, she tried to rationalize it by saying she's okay, but she was not okay. She ran ahead of you, while you stayed to grab Hansel's, who complained about his back. You can hear Gretel scream and you quickly rush down.

"Oh, she is not okay."

You all screamed at the gory display and Hansel seems to magically recover as he runs away first, with both you and Gretel quickly following behind.

#yandere hansel x reader #hansel and gretel #yandere hansel #a tale dark & grimm #yandere fairytales #yandere fairy tales #hansel x reader #yandere fairytales x reader #witch #yandere #yandere x reader

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kinfriday · 2 years

Text

The Battle

There are times where I can sound like the love child of a drill sergeant and a physical trainer.

“The only easy day is yesterday!” I’ll say to myself, and others.

“It’s always too early to quit!” Another winner.

“Embrace the suck!” Are you groaning yet?

“Believe to achieve!”

I think I’ve made my point…

The problem is, as cliched and cringe as they may seem, I hold on to those like maxims. Chanting them in my mind like rosary prayers. I hold myself to high, some say impossible standards, and when I fail to meet those standards my world collapses into feelings of guilt, shame and hypocrisy.

I’d like to welcome you all to my November.

Right at the end of last month I began to have trouble with my right knee, and my morning routine began to be disrupted as I had to take days off to recover.

For most people this would be fine, but it’s always too early to quit.

grin

Pressing on, pushing myself harder than I should have I kept returning the moment it felt better which only saw me benched again one or two days later.

This was not good for me.

As that routine began to break down, other routines began to break down. Cascade failures in my habits began to occur especially with my nutrition and calorie tracking. Meanwhile I’m writing weekly blogs about the path I’m trying to forge with my ascetic aspirations.

Is this hypocrisy? Am I saying one thing and doing another as I grabbed the pretzel bag and spend hours curled up in my chair feeling miserable, eating my feelings?

It certainly feels that way. Yesterday, in my journaling, defines where I’ve been almost perfectly.

Morning: This is going to be your hardest day. Log every calorie… You can do this!

Evening: Failed again, failed utterly, but I did a little better than yesterday…At least I’ve got that going for me.

And the thing is, I’ve been trying not to fall into judgement here. I’ve been trying to look at my successes each day, of which there have been some. I’ve kept up with my writing, and my weekly fast. Meditation and journaling are going great for me as is this blog.

There’s a special joy in sharing this journey with each of you. Even entries like these that leave me feeling vulnerable and exposed have their shine. After all, if I’m going to walk this path, if I’m going to embody my principles, that means being open and honest about when I fail too.

Yet I haven’t been able to control my eating, or keep up with my running. My reading and studying has been weak as well so every success I have feels minimized.

With me it’s all or nothing… and the one thing I couldn’t understand is why this was happening. I have the conviction. I have the drive to make this work, but where’s my will?

I know what I’m capable of, I’ve seen what I’ve overcome, and for some reason I can’t put down the pretzels?

What the hell?

Then, as I’m going through all of this I have the audacity to say to anyone that I’m aspiring to an ascetic path as I embrace moments of utter decadence?

“Hypocrisy… I’m a hypocrite. That must be it. I’m half assing my path, and my life…”

Yet that’s not the truth. That’s guilt and judgement tying a blindfold around my eyes.

Last night, while talking with one of my partners, something clicked.

“Running is a way I deal with my stress. When I can’t run, I start looking for other avenues, and my oldest avenue is stress eating.”

In a moment, after a month of struggle, the veil fell and there was one of my oldest demons standing there grinning at me, and, in a flash, I understood why I was struggling so much with shame, and recrimination. Finally, I understood why this was devouring me.

Asceticism does not exist in a vacuum. It is not done for its sake alone. One might argue that asceticism without purpose is masochism. Rather, I’ve learned that by embracing hardships and rigor, I overcome some of my toughest demons. With structure I find focus that I turn towards the service of my Gods and those around me, and through that service and rigor, I find the reason and purpose of my life.

However, these elements are bricks in my foundations, and when some get removed things start falling apart. An undermined tower, no matter how strong, becomes vulnerable to a puff of wind.

Yet this is the journey. The true test of a path, and a discipline does not come when you’re at your best, but when you find yourself at your worst. It’s the resolve to try again after every failure, instead of giving up and almost every day this month, I have failed to live up to my own standards. As a result, I have woken up bitter and hateful of myself.

I have been completely miserable, but I’m not going to give up the fight.

Living your truth is not about success. Which seems strange, I know. It’s about living and embodying that truth in success and failure. It’s about the fight. I'm not always going to win, it’s not always going to go perfectly, and I will get cruelly crushed and tossed back to the starting line.

This is where the learning comes, and where the hard work begins. I know how I feel about myself. I feel the shame of every failure and know the pain of it, but what I do with it is up to me. I can beat myself down and make it worse, or I can hold on to my anchor points and struggle with it, battle with it.

One way leads to true defeat, the other leads to growth, preparing me for the next challenge.

It’s not about success, it’s not about failure, it’s about learning new lessons, with the new eyes I’ve gained from my struggle as I come to places both familiar and new on my journey.

As the saying goes, the struggle is the way.

-Sister Snow Hare

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thegreatbacon · 11 months

Text

The Coming Discourse Vacuum

Food for thought in a post-Twitter world

I originally published this piece 2022-11-18 on my blog, but then forgot to share lol. Thought it was relevant again with the Twitter/Reddit/Bluesky/Threads talk this past month.

There is no doubt that Twitter is collapsing. Millions of bytes have flown over the last few weeks describing the chaos both on the platform and in the private domain of its offices. Advertisers have pulled out, poorly thought out technical decisions have been made, hastily designed products have shipped, the majority of staff have either been fired or walked out the door, and the new owner and CEO is publicly melting down ON the platform for all the world to see. Some real grade A content if you will. The Adam McKay movie is writing itself. Yet as dumb as the whole saga is, it feels like there’s clearly something else at stake here, some sort of loss being felt. As much of a carnival as Twitter has always been, there is social value in it.

The widespread recording and reporting of police brutality in communities leading to the Black Lives Matter movement and the George Floyd protests of 2020 likely couldn’t have occurred without it. Last year when a wildfire broke out in the north suburbs of Denver, I used the platform to get almost real-time info and pass it on to friends and family living close to the disaster.

It’s the place to go for breaking & front page news. To hear the latest japes and gossip. It’s one of the town squares of the internet. And now it’s on fire while a lone, pathetic, billionaire is trying to rip it apart and sell it for scrap after buying it on a whim.

So, what’s next?

Some people are starting to look for the future in newer, less established spaces. But what if before our society immediately moves on to the next big thing, we take a step back to dream of a green field. If we could do it all over again, what should it look like?

To start with let’s talk about the elephant in the room, Mastodon, which is one of the new things that people have been migrating towards. Mastodon is part of the Fediverse, a collection of open source tools and platforms that prize decentralized architecture first and foremost. This means allowing anyone to host their own instance of a server and then connecting it to other servers in a federated model to gain network effects.

So instead of just one single giant ship plying the shitposting seas, it’s a bunch of rafts lashed together. If you don’t like how things are going, you can untie your raft and set off on your own. Or that’s the idea anyway.

But in my experience I’ve found the whole system unintuitive and overwhelming despite the fact that I write software for a living. Where am I supposed to make an account? How do I make sure I’m in the same network as the funny people I was following on Twitter? Does anyone in this federation even live in my state?

The barrier to entry is too high and the core architecture of Fediverse software fragments the new social network right out of the gate, undermining the very reason Twitter was useful in the first place. The replacement has to be centralized, it has to be the same place everyone agrees to show up. That’s how town squares work.

Another consideration for this future digital town square should be democratic controls baked into it from the start. The goal here is to keep any one particular petulant owner from taking control of the whole thing. This is ostensibly the purpose of federation in Mastodon, but I’m talking about even lower level controls. Elected moderators to patrol the space and ways to debate and decide the rules that govern the space. Baked in polls for voting on anything from names to new channels to modifying community guidelines. Focus on democratically controlling a single instance from within its own framework before jumping straight to federation.

Lastly, just like how a good tax base helps keep public places clean and maintained, this theoretical future platform would need some mechanism for collecting monetary support from its users, instead of an ad driven model. Ad driven platforms will always be forced to sacrifice the user experience for driving advertiser metrics.Instead let's talk about things like up-front registration fees or monthly supporter tiers, cosmetic items or badges for purchase, and publicly published operational budgets so users know how much they need to open their wallets. We could even dream of an honest to god new state-run utility that can actually levy taxes to manage and operate the platform!

As I’m writing this piece, one of the top trends on Twitter is literally #RIPTwitter. Even if the website technically lives on past tonight, it’s clear that it has lost the trust and confidence of its community, the lifeblood of any social media platform. So as we stagger out of this burning square, we should all take a moment to unplug, touch some grass, talk to our friends and family around our kitchen tables, and take a deep breath. In that moment of quiet, let’s dream about something better, before we go back to looking for something to fill the vacuum.

#blogging #posts about posting #twitter implosion #reddit blackout #meta threads #mastodon #blue sky #web platforms

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infernal-dominion · 2 years

Note

☕️ + the overlords

“Going to have to be specific on which ones you mean there, darling. Practically every demon that is considered some form of the highest ruling class could be technically considered an Overlord, me most of all. Ah, but I assume you initially meant the ones up in the Pride ring? Well, I won’t talk about all of them, or else we would be here until the heat death of the universe, so I’ll just talk about the ones that currently have the most amassed power under their belts…

“First I suppose is the V trio, as I’ve heard they’re called, though I suppose the Triple V’s are similarly apt. Quite the trio they are. Thick as thieves and twice as cut-throat, enough that were I less than the being I am now, I would be highly cautious about crossing paths with them. But seeing as they pose no threat, I can’t help but find their alliance to be quite impressive, adorable, even. As for the members themselves…Well, let’s just say I find them intriguing for more than a few reasons.”

“Valentino, my my, isn’t he just the absolutely spitting image of a man completely corrupted by sin. Practically drips from his every pore, a horrid soul that commits horrible violence and wicked blasphemy as easily as if it were breathing. Ahhh, it’s almost enough to make my cold dead heart flutter in my chest a little. Of course…There is such a thing as an ego that can grow a bit too fat if it gorges itself too much. And with all of the ways he surrounds himself with nothing but his own riches and boundless hedonism, I dare say it borders on narcissism. And we all know how that tale ends, hm?”

“Vox, now that’s a runner-up I never saw coming. After the events of 1933 came and went, understandably, the whole power structure of sinners within the ring far and wide had all but collapsed, and there was nothing left to fill that void. A total power vacuum, and it was devouring thousands of ambitious, power hungry souls looking to obtain the prestige and privilege of Overlord status as it grew, like a black hole devouring a star whole. One would expect Vox to be swallowed up in the current of backstabbings, gun fights, coups and gang wars that were sweeping through the cities like a plague, and yet the man somehow managed to flourish. I’m not quite sure what had him gain such an edge, exactly. If there’s a tactical genius behind that screen or if his powers of electrical prowess merely gave him an indomitable edge with the power of technology rapidly evolving as it was. Either way, the whole of the Pride Ring has him to thank for their television broadcasts, their lights, their phones, and it is quite the effective choke hold when it comes to keeping lower powers in line. Wouldn’t want to be responsible for mass blackouts and the total collapse of the entire ring’s electrical structure, hm?”

“Velvet, that tricky little thing. I’ll admit, she amuses me more than she should. I don’t know if it’s her harlequin appearance that causes her to win brownie points in my book, or if her bubbly charm reminds me of my own daughter, but I’ve kept an eye on her for a while now. Some say she’s just a puppet, a mere facsimile of a overlord that cozeyed up to the other two V’s with a bat of her eyelashes and a smile, keen on using their attraction to her to bolster herself up to their level like a leech. Some think that she’s secretly the strongest out of all of them and is the one most responsible for running the show behind closed doors. Me? Well. All I know is that she’s quite the sharp one, despite her almost disarming appearance. She dances like a puppet, but really, it’s her who pulls her own strings, and who knows how many others she has within her grasp.”

“Now, onto the other ones that have managed to garner my attention…Rosie. Heheh. Sweet Rosie, leader of her own little private colony of Cannibals within the Pentagram. I have to admit, I applaud her tenacity when it comes to being able to make such a wonderfully self-sufficient little section of an entire city as her own turf, especially one that she rules over with such an air of tact and cunning business acumen. A smile on her face that speaks of how she’s willing to grant you anything of what you may desire, but also one that displays the vicious pleasure she’ll take in tossing you into a bubbling cauldron of stew should you find a way to displease her. Granted, I imagine other sinners that live near the colony don’t exactly feel the same when confronted with the ceaseless agony of having your stomach ripped open and your guts being eaten alive by a swarm of rabid cannibals, but hey, it isn’t like they keep that part of their group a secret, now do they?”

“And finally…Alastor. The Radio Demon. What can I say about him that hasn’t already been said? It’s quite the conundrum, as I’m sure you can imagine. I will, however say that I have had quite the fun time, keeping my eye on him. His power, his way of messing and manipulating and toying with his chosen prey before finding ways to ruin them forever or devouring them alive is quite the spectacle. There’s a certain…delight there, that’s only brought about by those who truly have evil hearts, and it’s enough to make my own interest more than piqued. I enjoy seeing what he may be planning on next. Though I will admit…the thought of him getting anywhere close to my daughter…Well…Let’s just say I’ll be keen on having a discussion with him then.”

#lucifer morningstar #your king has arrived (ic)#ask meme #v trio #valentino #velvet #hazbin vox #alastor #rosie hazbin hotel

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