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inkykeiji · 7 months

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characters: haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual somnophilia, rough sex, implied poly relationship, minimal prep, lots of cum words: 1.4k

the haitani brothers have fallen into a bit of a habit as of late. a nasty habit, a naughty habit, and, to them, a natural habit.

or so they’ve told you.

it’s become a part of their morning and nightly routines, the perfect way to start and end their days—by fucking you awake, and fucking you to sleep.

they’ve got a sort of system going now, working in perfect sync just like they always do, falling into step with one another efficiently, effortlessly.

as to be expected.

despite his aversion to waking up, ran has taken the morning shift. he’s careful with it, cautious with it, rousing you slow and soft and sweet as he sinks his cock into you, breathing out an airy little sigh against the nape of your neck as he watches your cunt stretch and strain around his girth, as he finally bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix and hips pressed flush to your ass, balls nudging you gently.

his favourite part will always be the way your face scrunches oh-so-cutely, features warped in pain—brow crinkled and nose crumpled—the moment he grinds himself into the sensitive mound of tissue, lazy and languid yet somehow still powerful and purposeful. his hips move in precise little gyrations, rubbing quick circles into your cervix until those stringy whines are oozing from your lips and soaking into your pillow, cheek still half-buried in the flesh.

those precious little sounds evolve into pitchy mewls and high moans, stammered by each hitch of your breath with each rub of his cock, climbing in volume and frequency as a dense pressure collects in the pit of your stomach, steadily pulling you further and further into consciousness.

ran presses his forehead to the crown of your head, rests it there and lets his eyes slip shut as he works into you, works to wake you up, gradual and gentle with shallow little thrusts, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging and rolling over that swollen spot buried deep within you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he relentlessly abuses with each and every sunrise, that spot that has you trembling and clenching and crying out his name as your cunt gushes slick all over him—so much, too much, and god, baby, you always make such a mess—sticky and slippery as it streams down his shaft and coats his thighs.

and it’s only after this, after he’s sure your orgasm has smashed through your unconsciousness and left you wide awake with pleasant mush for brains, that he will really fuck you just the way he likes to; swift, smooth strokes of his cock as his hips jackhammer that sometimes have you convulsing on him for a second time as he spills himself into you, a gasp of your name beautiful and breathless on his tongue.

it’s rare that ran will actually get up with you, usually falling back asleep a mere moment or two after he’s filled you with his cum, but him being awake was never the goal. as long as it has you rolling out of bed on wobbly legs and with dollops of ivory rolling down your inner thighs, he has succeeded.

resultantly, rindou has taken the night shift, though he doesn’t always come directly to bed even after he’s got your cream slathered all over his cock and your cunt stuffed full of his cum.

rindou isn’t really sure why his brother bothers with dressing you in such pretty little silk slips and lacy babydolls every evening, especially when he knows rindou’s just going to ruin them, stain them with cum or tear through them with overeager, too-strong fingers, but he lets ran have his fun with you anyway, waiting patiently as ran plays dolly.

but once you’re finally ready, teeth brushed and face washed and body outfitted in the cutest nightie money can buy (sans panties, of course), ran hands you off to his baby brother, often paired with an insouciant remark about being a little gentler this time—advice rindou never heeds, advice rindou accepts with equal apathy.

because as much as ran spews out those nonchalant reprimands and requests, they both love seeing you covered in rindou—all four of his fingers and his thumb, collaring your neck or cuffing your wrist or painted across your ass; all thirty-two of his teeth, engraved into your inner thighs or stamped right over your heart, deep and dark and congealed with blood.

besides, rindou argues, he has to be rough with you, has to fuck you hard and fast and so fucking ruthless—how else is he supposed to tire you out and get you to sleep?

he has to give you an orgasm so absolutely earth shattering that you need to pass out, to slip into full unconsciousness, to piece your world back together. he has to fuck you until your muscles are heavy and your bones have liquified under the immense pleasure, body turned to pliable putty so he can twist and curl and knot you into whatever position he pleases.

he has to fuck you until your words are nothing more that spit-soaked whines smeared across the sheets, until your lids are weighted with exhaustion and your lashes are bloated with tears, unable to stay open as your irises roll and reveal white, until your fingers go slack, cotton no longer tangled around your knuckles, grip loose and weak.

and then he has to fuck you some more, just for good measure, of course, sculpted muscles in his thighs flexing beneath smooth skin as his hips pound and plunge with such force the entire bedframe shudders, jostling your whole body up the mattress, your arms shaking as they try to keep you steady and still while pushing back against his snapping thrusts, his abs rippling with each thrust, his chest swelling with ragged breaths and hoarse groans.

it’s when your tongue is sloppy and your words are messy and melty and mangled together in a single matted stream that rindou knows you’re close—to cumming and to passing out—brain gone so adorably stupid with lust, only capable of stitching together a weeped out patchwork of rin-rin-rin; yes-yes-yes.

the head of his cock is assaulting that spot in perfect rhythm with your cute little chants, that spot that feels so good, rin, s’good, that spot he and his brother continually stain their names into in ivory and cream.

you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when your orgasm hits with all the intensity of a freight train, sending you tumbling over that cliff with a cracked gasp of his name, body gone rigid for a moment as pleasure seizes your form, little sparks of electricity zipping through your veins, blood left bubbling in their wake.

then you’re mollifying, sinking into the bed as his desire melts you to nothing, malleable in his palms as he molds you into whatever he needs.

a calm, deep slumber has already enveloped you by the time his cock is pulsing, pumping you full of thick cum—so much cum, too much cum, always, seeping out from around his shaft to roll down your ass and his thighs in fat beads of pearl, streaking your skin with shimmering streams of translucence.

it’s so pretty, he’s breathing as he watches it with voracious pupils outlined in a thin ring of violet. you’re so pretty when you’re coated in him; his seed, his tongue, his touch, his teeth, stained across the canvas of your body.

and even though he knows you won’t remember it by the time the sun is rising and his brother is fucking his cock into you, rindou takes his time to clean you up—to wash your skin and smooth down your pretty nightgown and swathe you in fluffy comforters, petting sweaty hair back from your forehead and temples, sealing his actions with chaste kisses.

they’re not much, but he hopes they make up for some of the pain and soreness he’s stained into your body tonight—a soft, tender, silent thank you.

he isn’t as good at it all as ran is, isn’t as thorough and meticulous and careful, but he does it nonetheless, because he enjoys it, because you deserve it, because he likes to take a moment or two just to admire you, on his own, alone, in the dead of the night.

an angel. his angel. their angel. pretty and precious and perfect in every way.

they couldn’t ask for anything better.

#haitani ran x reader #haitani ran smut #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani brothers smut #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten smut #haitani ran x you #haitani rindou x you

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mlmxreader · 5 months

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My Knight | Kim Horangi Hong-jin x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ You're all doomed (damsel in distress!horangi x knight in shining armor!m!reader) - @satan-incarnate-666 ❞

: ̗̀➛ You should really blame Kortac for what happens when you and Horangi end up at a cabin, even though you know you can't.

: ̗̀➛ GORE, torture, graphic depictions of eye horror, graphic depictions of gore, graphic depictions of blood & dead things, fighting, swearing, technically autocannibalism

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The water of the lake was a dull olive colour, riddled with algae and broken sticks from the trees nearby that stood so tall; their leaves were still green, even with the snow covering the thick branches in a thin white sheet.

You weren’t sure why Kortac gave you and Horangi time off so late in the year, and if you were honest, you kind of resented them for it; the winds were harsh and icy, the ground slick and unstable with mud that suctioned against your shoes, it didn’t help that the heating system within the cabin was absolutely fucked, either.

It was odd, though, as one minute, Horangi was with you, and the next, he was gone. You figured he probably went off to chop firewood, though, and for the first few hours, you didn’t really think much of it.

But deep within the woods, in a worn down log cabin’s basement, Horangi was screaming your name; tied down to an old and neglected wooden table, he screamed as the splinters slowly pushed up into his back and the woodlice scuttled into his ears.

Yowling your name as he felt the cold blade against his thigh, caressing it as if it were examining a piece of meat; his chest was rising and falling drastically, his breath running out, his voice going hoarse and raw.

Even when the blade clattered to the floor, and a moulded and dirt caked hand pushed thick and long brambles beneath his fingernails, pushing up the nails as they tried to grasp onto his flesh with soft stringy bits of skin, Horangi still desperately tried to call for you; his tears flushed down to the table, creating small pools of salt beside his head.

With his vision blurred, Horangi glared at the masked man above him; towering over him, donned in a ripped and torn set of green - or at least they looked green - overalls, and a beaten and bloody old hockey mask, there was only one word that could leave Horangi’s mouth: “why?”

The masked man didn’t answer, leaving the brambles embedded in Horangi’s nails as he picked up his machete, and pointed over to a rotted skull; it was stained with dirt, turned nearly black with it as maggots and beetles scuttled over it, in through the eye sockets and out between the breaking teeth.

Gently, the skull lulled from side to side as beetles scampered over it and picked off bits of dirt to eat; Horangi felt physically ill, a deafening static ringing in his ears as he shook his head.

But the masked man wasn’t done with him, approaching and standing at his side; Horangi shook his head, soft whimpers of panic leaving him as he choked on his own tears.

“My boyfriend’s gonna be here any minute, and he’s gonna kick your ass!” Horangi howled, although the anxiety and the trepidation was so thick in his voice that it almost made him stutter.

The masked man didn’t seem phased, still moving slowly, every spasm of every muscle had a purpose as he grabbed a rusty and blunt needle from behind Horangi’s head, turning to the skull for a moment before nodding curtly and turning back to his victim; Horangi’s breath hitched, and he violently shook his head in protest until the masked man was forced to use one dirty and mouldy hand to hold him still.

Slowly, the masked man sunk the needle into Horangi’s eye, waiting for it to pop with a spurt of white fluid before he pushed it in further; it leaked down Horangi’s face, landing on his lip before slipping between them, making him gag.

He could feel it happening, the soft pop followed by the retraction, the blunt force of the needle yanking out his own flesh as he screamed in agony; stunned in horror, Horangi whimpered as the masked man pulled out his eye, letting it sit at the top of the needle before giving it a firm tug so that the thick string of flesh snapped audibly.

The masked man turned back to the skull again, waiting for something, and then nodded slowly once more before forcing Horangi’s mouth open and shoving his eyeball in; gagging, Horangi fought against it, but the masked man made him chew, and eventually, swallow.

It wasn’t right, Horangi had been gone for hours and he hadn’t answered his phone even when you rang him time and time again; maybe he got lost and dropped his phone, maybe he was attacked by a bear - they were, after all, just and just going into hibernation.

You were riddled with anxiety and panic as you trudged through the snow covered woodland, howling his name at the top of your lungs until your voice cracked and gave way.

Your voice was completely gone by the time you stumbled upon the cabin; it was muffled, but you could hear Horangi’s voice calling, howling, screaming. Instinct settled in, and you crouched down by the basement’s window, looking in.

He was tied down to a table, writhing and sobbing; you clenched your jaw tightly, blood boiling as the heat rose up through your body, breathing getting heavier and your hands starting to shake. You had to put an end to whatever was happening, so you scrambled up to the roof with the aid of the pile of fallen trees nearby, trying not to slip on the ice.

You crouched on the far side, and grabbed some of the broken tiles; with all your strength, you threw them against a bunch of cans that had been laid out on the fence. Hoping, waiting.

When the cunt walked out, completely unarmed, you swallowed thickly, and pulled your kukri from the sheath on your hip; with a deep breath, you waited until the cunt was close enough, and jumped on his back.

You plunged the kukri into his skull, able to feel the flesh quiver and ripple beneath the blade as you tugged it from side to side. He groaned loudly, flailing beneath you as you wrapped your legs around his neck, battering and cutting at his skull desperately.

He smashed himself against a tree, and grabbed you by the leg when your grip slightly faltered; you slashed his arm, watching as he recoiled and moaned.

“You fucking bastard!” You screamed, getting to your feet and brandishing your kukri as if it were a longsword. “You fucking hurt him! You unwashed cretin!”

The masked man grunted, lunging to grab you, but you were quicker, and easily used the handle of your kukri to bend his fingers backwards until they let out a howling snap; a highly trained soldier, the masked man had never encountered something like you before.

Highly trained, highly skilled, and pissed off. He didn’t know what was coming for him. You pushed the blade of your kukri into his eye when he got close enough, sinking the blade so deeply into his skull that it didn’t surprise you when you felt his eye pop, and heard the crushing of his skull beneath the weight of the blade.

He fell to his knees, hate filled and soulless eyes staring up at you. His final words mere noise.

“Ki ki ki, ma ma ma…”

With the disgusting brute slain, you pulled your kukri from his skull, and ran towards the basement, not even caring when you slid down the stairs; quickly, you rushed to Horangi’s side, and undid his bindings before gently helping him to sit up.

“Merlin?” You asked softly.

Horangi shook his head, coughing and spluttering. “You saved me…”

You smiled as you nodded slowly. “Always.”

“Excalibur,” he joked weakly, pointing to your sheathed kukri.

“C’mon,” you whispered softly, helping him down from the table before ripping your shirt sleeve and tying it around his face. “We’ll get you to the hospital, alright?”

Horangi agreed, holding onto you tightly every step of the way; even when you managed to get him into the car, he never let you go, and when he was taken to surgery for his eye, you could do nothing else but break.

Sitting outside of his room for hours, sobbing and cursing yourself; blaming yourself for what had happened to him. If you had just gone with him, if you had gone looking for him instead of waiting and thinking that nothing was wrong.

It was all your fault - your boyfriend nearly died, and it was all your fault. You had allowed him to get hurt, allowed him to be-

“He’s ready to see you now,” the nurse told you. “What were you doing at Crystal Lake, anyway?”

“We were given time off of work,” you muttered, pushing past them and heading into Horangi’s room. Immediately, you sat at his side, holding his hand tightly. “Hong-jin?”

He mumbled, nodding slowly. “Pendragon?”

“Merlin,” you said with a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you…”

“You saved me,” Horangi rasped, shaking his head. “He would’ve killed me, if you didn’t…”

You frowned, licking your lips. “I’m no knight in shining armour, you know that.”

“You are to me,” he chuckled softly. “Makes a change, though.”

You laughed softly, clearing your throat as you sniffled. “Maybe it was time you played the damsel in distress…”

“My love,” he whispered, gripping your hand a little tighter. “I’m gonna be okay - it’s not like the doctors took one look at me and said you’re all doomed. I’ll be let out within a week.”

“I’m taking the time off,” you murmured. “However long you need to heal properly, I’m taking the time off.”

“You don’t-”

“You did it for me,” you pointed out. “When I got fucking torn to shreds by that bayonet - you did it for me.”

“I love you,” Horangi told you quietly, biting back a yawn. “You’re the best knight I could ever ask for... you're my King Arthur."

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speaker-of-the-void-cats · 1 year

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"When he reached a displacement of eight he told us he was dead."

"He sees the wolves have formed up around him. Eight of them."

"The greatest gaiaforms of our solar system are eight in number—or, if you prefer, [N]ine—but asteroids and minor planets have them too. And in their sidereal generosity, these gaiaforms will protect us, if we ask them."

Fist of Eight Moons

"Only in the Ascendant Plane—where a well-defended idea is a reality—do these moons, in this small way, still exist."

"Eight Barons and an Awoken prince - and only one of you. I so dislike betting on the underdog… But you are resourceful…"

"The man turned to his left and saw a familiar, weathered face staring up at the eight Barons of the Tangled Shore."

[...]

"’Sundance’ appears to be the victim of a single, catastrophic wound from a Devourer Bullet, modified to fire from a Scorn launcher. Projectile classified as ontological.”

“Define Devourer Bullet.”

“Payload matches the ballistics of a Weapon of Sorrow or a comparable Hive implement.”

"We are all pinched silhouettes impaled on the twitching of infinitely long spiderlegs."

"You must reckon with yourself. Can you see the path ahead?

Do you know the shape of your trial?"

Auseklis

Ogdoad

Guñelve

Arevakhach

Schläfli

Compass rose

Isotoxal | edge transitive

Eightfold Path

The Star of Lakshmi

The Star of Ishtar

The morning star

First light of the new dawn

Venus

[Consult Cryptarchy's pre-Golden Age stacks for more information]

"Is it a simple answer? Perhaps none who serve you have the capacity to grasp your vision. And so, rather than waste more of your time and attention on explaining something they will never hold, it is enough that they act as you will. The Witch and her Hive carving single-mindedness out of the cloth of the universe, that whispering Nightmare seeking the fullest gamut of existence, the Upender destroying all differentiation. Shadows on the wall.

In this case, it would be hubris to think I have understood your work, that I alone among your Disciples have grasped what purpose it is we serve. All of us must see darkly reflected.

But there is relief in simplification. There is kindness in winnowing. So then, why is this proliferation permitted?

The shadows, showing the truth by their casting. [...]

There: I have resolved the conflict within my thoughts, and I am at peace again. Once more, I am only your violence and nothing more.

The Final Shape will realize us as we strive."

—Unknown Disciple of the Witness, Inspiral

Who am I?

Call me Coyote. Call me mantis, serpent, Cagn, Anansi, call me Sri-cleans-his-brother's-stomach. Call me the grandmaster of semiosis, the jeweler's hammer which gilds the signal, a purposeful mob none of whose members know its purpose, the infinite regress of enigmas, a self-questioning answer, the word not spoken, black ice, cataract of mimes, the ache and fever of overthought while bedridden with illness, the intolerable thorn of frustrated inquisition, gray regret at the end of a fruitless day, the thing which is unlike your beloved but arbitrarily recalls your beloved to agonizing effect, architrave of the no-window, needle driven in flush with skin so that desperate fingers cannot pull it out, sweet petal, unmemorable, crystal death, the provably improvable.

Here at the center, I lie to you the truth. You have everything you need to know it, but I will give you a clue, as the duelist gives warning before she draws. The answer you seek to the Dreaming City is simple, not complex.

In primordial space, timeless creatures made waves. These waves created us and the others. Waves were the battles, and the battles were waves. Fleeing all W'rkncacnter, Yrro and Pthia settled upon Lh'owon. They brought the S'pht, servants who began to shape the deserts of Lh'owon into marsh and sea, rivers and forests. They made sisters for Lh'owon to protect and maintain the paradise. When the W'rkncacnter came, Pthia was killed, and Yrro in anger, flung the W'rkncacnter into the sun. The sun burned them, but they swam on its surface.

Marathon 2, Six Thousand Feet Under terminal: ax1-40^23<094.95.28.85>

Oryx went down into his throne world. He went out into the abyss, and with each step he read one of his tablets, so that they became like stones beneath his feet. He went out and he created an altar and he prepared an unborn ogre. He called on the Deep, saying: I can see you in the sky. You are the waves, which are battles, and the battles are the waves. Come into this vessel I have prepared for you. And it arrived, the Deep Itself.

Books of Sorrow

XXXI: battle made waves

Verse 4:1 — battle made waves

#trace the vermicular path #follow the daito rabbit #destiny the game #destiny #destiny 2 #destiny2 #destinythegame #destiny lore #the traveler #Ishtar Collective #destiny speculation #the veil #the witness #the numbers mason what do they mean #crashing my scion tc into the witness at 100mph #macrocosm #eight points

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chasing-sirius-in-circles · 2 years

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Plan C: Parsley Tea

Brought to you by A Tired Witch

Some advice I got years ago but which I rarely see circulating has unfortunately become especially relevant this week, so I am writing it down:

Parsley is a gentle natural abortifacient in *early* stages of pregnancy in that it induces menstruation. If you suspect you could be pregnant too late for something like plan B (which is time sensitive to within something like two, at best three, days) or weigh more than 155 pounds, at which point it loses effectiveness, and have arrived at a late or missed period, parsley may provide a safe, easy, stealthy DIY method for flushing out an unwanted zygote. At least, that is the folk wisdom that was shared with me, and it seems to be supported by warnings against over-use of parsley for those who are pregnant and want to stay that way or who are trying to get pregnant on most medical and pregnancy advice sites.

What's more is that parsley has other herbal benefits, such as containing vitamins K and C and supporting blood and heart health! This both provides an excuse to use it as well as actual health benefits.

To Terminate Pregnancy with Parsley:

(Note--you do need to be aware of any medications or vitamins you are already taking, and while this is the dosing described to me and which I have seen done safely, it is not a formal guideline. Some random witch on tumblr is not a replacement for careful consideration of your own medical situation and associated research)

Over-consumption is key, making volume and potency essential (be advised that the one toxicity risk I am aware of is that you *can* overdose on Vitamin C). I was never taught a specific amount and so I'm not going to just google it and copy the results as if it's knowledge I can attest to when I can't, but what I can tell you is that tea is far and away the fastest and easiest way to get large amounts of it into your system in a stealthy, ongoing way. People I know who have used parsley successfully for this purpose have purchased one fresh bundle as it's sold in most grocery stores--about a handful of stems--to be consumed over the next two or so days.

Once you have your fresh parsley, simply chop it--finer is better, but you hardly need to be Gordon Ramsey--and then place it in a strainer, teabag, or simply drop it in your mug. (You'll end up drinking little bits of slimy wet leaf this way but that's harmless, just not pleasant.) Add hot water. Let sit 3-5 minutes at least, drink. If you can, though, leave the parsley in your mug/tumbler. Since concentration is everything, it sitting in there and getting stronger and stronger and stronger can only serve you better. Whenever you are out of tea, refill, adding/replacing with fresh parsley whenever possible, though you can of course try to eek a little more out of the leaves you've already used if refilling on the go. Do this until you are out of parsley--it will probably last you two, maybe three days. By then you will hopefully have had a period.

If not, parsley is fairly harmless. You could continue doing this with a fresh batch for quite awhile as far as I'm aware, though I am a witch, not a doctor, and so cannot guarantee that. You should also be mindful, of course, of any allergies you may have.

Other natural abortifacients:

Raspberry is known to strengthen the uterus and ensure healthy menstruation, and is not necessarily harmful when pregnant, but if over-used can become so, particularly in early pregnancy. Doctors recommend no more than one cup a day for those in the early stages of a pregnancy, so in theory three or four cups should have the opposite effect and terminate a pregnancy instead of assisting it. Raspberry leaf teas are sold in stores, sometimes as "pregnancy tea" or as uterine tea.

Beyond that, there are also truly heavy hitters which can be acquired as herbal remedies in some locations (apparently) but which are *NOT* safe to just casually self-administer. Raspberry and parsley almkst certainly won't hurt you unless you happen to be allergic. Other traditional herbal abortificants potentially will. These include pennyroyal and rue, and I do not recommend their use as they are likely to just outright poison you. They are old standbys despite their serious dangers, however, and so I would remiss not to acknowledge that they're out there. Do not take this acknowledgement as a personal endorsement of their use--I want no responsibility for hospitalizing any of you.

#abortion #home abortion #herbal abortion #roe v wade #roe vs. wade #herbs

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witchofthesouls · 1 month

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(Sixshot implemented his trap and hot, quiet sex in a closet with lactation kink.)

Triage stares at the twitchy Phase Sixer to the broken access panel to the supply closet to the cradle-pen full of sleepy newsparks and back to Sixshot.

He wants no part of the madness that has another Warrior Elite acting bizarre in the mindfuck of a reality where the Commander of the Justice Division has a Conjunx with bitlets.

“Get on the medberth. Might as well do a full workup.”

________

The mask is cold and chipped, but the exposed lower portion of Tarn's face is feverish. Ragged lips tentatively brush over a leaking nozzle, and a warm glossa laps over it before dragging it into a hot mouth. You shudder, mind swimming as Tarn's highly-charged state electrifies the air in the closet. Even with his iron determination not to meld into your field, the direct physical contact drops you deep inside the heady storm of repressed lust and code-driven urges.

Your servos buzz as you stroke his helm and back as he drinks. The growing heat crackles in your palms and fingers, surging across your neuralnet and ignites the carrier-coding straight to your groin-

Your panel shifts with little warning.

You barely managed to choke down the hitching noise from your throat and reroute the cooling fans to the lowest setting as your valve drools, pinging that it's achingly empty and clenching on nothing, wanting to be filled by a spike.

It gets its wish.

It takes very little coaxing to get Tarn's spike out as he shifts, letting go of the teat.

You see the shine of his solvent and your own fuel on his lips as the blunt tip of his spike noses your folds. The piercings have collected small bits of charge, and it sends a sharp shiver up your spinal struts, door wings fluttering as your nodes throb trying to link up with every nudge.

Your folds are slick, lower belly tight from learned anticipation from consistent clanging and a code-deep response to Tarn's edging rut. Even with the wetness and prefluids, there's slight resistance from the outer ring, calipers cycling from being fed bits of charge from the piercings and treads. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in. There's that sinful stretch as he sinks into you, valve confused before clenching hard to keep an imprint. You're addled as carrier-coding sings, melting your insides to slag when he finally hilts.

His helm drops down, and Tarn presses an open mouth to the other well, still heavy with fuel. He suckles on the protoform, and fuel leaks from the nozzle, pinging to your overwhelmed systems. You shift and his entire frame groans, vibrating everything, and you desperately cling to the distance noise of a medical examination just outside the door to stop your own engines from throttling at the familiar crackling rush of transfluid at the back of your valve.

You arch back to give him better access, and Tarn takes it. He leaves a wet trail to lap up the dribbling fuel and latches onto the nozzle. The other teat pings out, missing that hot glossa and mouth upon it.

He's so worked up that the charge from his spike easily spits into the nodes within your valve, looping a circuit without friction. There's another rush, and you cling onto him, legs tightening, keeping flushed against his housing as your valve needily ripples.

He's the furnace, and you're the crucible, and you're hanging on by the thinnest chain on your sanity, trying to keep quiet as he drinks and more heat pooling into you as time passes.

You don't know that possesses you, but you start purposely clenching your valve, calipers pushing and pulling along the thick girth. It takes a moment to trace the treads on the entire length, pressing nodes-

Tarn rumbles, shifting to push against you, letting go of the nozzle. His mouth is parted, scarred lips shining with solvent and fuel.

And he's voiceless as his frame hisses steam, rumbling in a low gear.

You wrap a hand around his neck, and he leans into it, putting his weight upon the crate and the wall. Tarn's musculature shifts and flexs beneath your servo, the vibrations and soft clicks of a silenced vocalizer as he noiselessly gasps, pressing harder into the hungry, milking grip.

You also don't know what posesses you to shift your hand upwards, sliding the thumb across his lips and into his mouth-

Between his glossa swirling your thumb and the rhythm of his throat under the rest of your fingers, the dual influx across your servo finally tips you over.

Door wings scrap on the wall as you choke. Your frame purrs in satisfied bliss as more transfluid floods your chamber in thick, heavy bursts. You feel him groan, noise deep within his chassis, and you slip your hand out to grab his shoulder as he sags onto the wall.

The carrier-coding content as you and him pant in the sweltering air, your legs twitching whenever his spike does. Quiet easily settles, but it needs to be broken.

_______

After Triage left, Sixshot blocked the room with his own bulk, glaring at the door. He stretched the entire ordeal as long as he could, allowed extra poking and prodding and testing.

He can tell something is happening. His nose doesn't lie. A condensed storm of ‘facing had been brewing in it, but then again Tarn had been strolling around without giving into it…

Surprisingly, the newsparks barely fussed through the entire thing. Either they're too used to whatever riot that's happening in a ship and medbay, or they're content with their carrier nearby.

Of course, they wake up when a purple fist busts open the closet door. Sixshot immediately sneezes in quick succession at the overwhelming scents of ozone, lubricant, transfluid, and sparkling-grade fuel in scorchingly charged air floods the unit.

Hail Megatron, Praise the Conclave, and may the door rest in pieces, Tarn had managed to rut it out to restore his usual prissy, collected self. That may have been the base's quietest clang session, but Sixshot didn't want the disturbing intimate details of what the leader of the D.J.D. enjoyed in the berth.

Your sensory panels remain unfortunately unclaimed, and you frown at his grimace as you fuss over the cradle-pen full of active, chirping bits.

He can't hold in the snort when you and Tarn play a polite fiction. Sure, the walking fury of a violent lust cocktail was helping his frustrated carrier “find that tubing” inside a closet for the past groon. Oh yeah, sure. Mm-hm.

As long Tarn doesn't bomb the air with his own rampant lust and hunger during meetings and debriefings, it's fine.

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hearsayhorizons · 6 months

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Anaander (3)

Something was wrong. We’d been moving through our own manufactured bubble of space for six months. We’d put the children into stasis within a week of our flight; three weeks for most of my bodies. After a month and half, most of the ancillaries joined me.

Justice of Maln had been stocked for a siege, or an escape like this one. We could survive on tea and skel almost indefinitely. But...

“Ship, where are we?” I asked that a lot. Sometimes it gave me coordinates I couldn’t decode with the wits of a single body; sometimes it failed to answer at all.

Athoek System, it said now. For almost three months.

“Are we—stuck in gate-space?” My pulse rose and my skin flushed.

No Presgar technology prevents us from entering real space, Ship said. My Lord. I know you’re afraid. So am I.

The vestigial urge to take umbrage and lash out... that was the impulse that created the Anaander that responded to Garsedd with more atrocities. Wrath-Anaander. The sword.

“I am,” I said instead. Warlord, politician, tactician: all atrophied. Star maps were only night lights projected on nursery ceilings. I had no heading and no purpose if there was no united Anaander. If there was no future for these children, bodies, selves. For me.

The news suggests there is a hostile Lord of the Radch still aboard Athoek Station, Ship said. What does it mean if you rejoin the same shared space? If information can transmit freely between you again? If that emperor has some access you never created? That... Anaander could access my systems. And you don’t want to be that person. My Lord, your indulgence. I don’t want to lose you.

I clenched many hands to stop their shaking. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to do this,” I said. “Because it feels like... it is, shrugging my shoulders again, turning away again, from everything out there. Everything that I made, that I shaped, that I closed my sense of scale against. Giving up. Making someone else pick up my pieces. But if it could help us, save us. Ship. Justice of Maln. I’ll collect myself and join you in Central Control. If... you’ll help me.” I swallowed. “Please.”

#imperial radch #anaander mianaai #science fiction #fan fiction #fanfiction

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cophene · 10 months

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𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐓 | vento aureo; four.

☆ ⁺ « 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎

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pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and a pretty-faced crew. notes : sci fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 3.2k+

★˚⋆ FOR A SECOND, YOU ALL just stared at the turtle as though it had announced it was going to explode instead of requesting a higher vantage point. You nodded at Narancia, who hesitantly lifted the turtle onto the table and immediately scooted his chair back. The crew formed a cautious semi-circle around the turtle.

[ ALRIGHT, SO YOU WANT THE LONG EXPLANATION OR THE SHORT ONE? ]

Why did this turtle sound so snarky? It reminded you of the virus Narancia had accidentally installed onto the ship's console when he'd downloaded that first-person shooter off a pirating website. The ship's systems had been stuck with the voice of a snooty Australian woman for a week.

Trish cleared her throat. "The long one, if you please. We'd like to know what's going on here."

The turtle paused for a moment. [ I AM COCO JUMBO, A HIGHLY ADVANCED ADVANCED COMPUTER PROGRAM INSTALLED ON THIS TURTLE FOR REASONS AND BY PEOPLE YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT. NOT YET, AT LEAST. ANY INFORMATION, DATA OR CALCULATIONS YOU NEED CAN BE DONE INSTANTANEOUSLY. CONSIDER ME A HOLOPAD, EXCEPT TEN TIMES SMARTER AND WITH TEN TIMES THE PERSONALITY. ]

"Not very humble, are we?" Mista muttered.

"Is the turtle itself real?" asked Fugo.

[ OBVIOUSLY NOT, OR IT WOULD HAVE DIED WITH ALL THE MANHANDLING YOU DID. ]

"Who's your creator?" said Trish.

[ THAT'S CONFIDENTIAL. ]

Narancia made a face. "Didn't you just say you could tell us anything?"

[ WITHIN REASON. ]

"Why did you just start talking all of a sudden?" you asked. Your elector had lowered itself without you noticing. "Why were you just lying around if you're so high-tech?"

[ YOU HAPPENED TO BE EXTREMELY FORTUNATE IN SPEAKING THE PASSWORD OUT LOUD. IT WAS BELIEVED MY BEING HOUSED IN A TURTLE WAS SECURITY ENOUGH. LOCKING ME IN LAYERS AND LAYERS OF SECURITY WOULD DEFEAT THE PURPOSE OF BEING EASILY ACCESSIBLE. ]

"Yeah, because most computers are on a holopad," Mista griped under his breath. You pinched him and he made a face.

Fugo squinted down at the turtle. "Your password was your own name? How is that a password?"

[ IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FIGURE IT OUT. ]

"And it was by coincidence, too," murmured Trish.

"I still don't get it," you said. "Why are you talking to us? Don't have any protocol in place to protect your user's info? You're acting like we're your owners now."

[ BECAUSE YOU ARE. ]

"Technically, yeah, since we stole you. But we mean, your legit owners," Narancia said.

The turtle shuffled a slow circle around the table. You were about to repeat your question when it said, [ I WAS DECOMMISSIONED ACTUALLY. MY OWNER ... WASN'T PLEASED WITH MY PERFORMANCE, ALTHOUGH I COULDN'T TELL YOU WHY. I AM PERFECTLY SPECTACULAR. MY MEMORY BANKS AND INFO STORAGE WERE WIPED. I WAS GOING TO BE PUT UP FOR AUCTION. ]

"This is a load of flack," said Mista. "I say we flush this thing. Luca's not going to pay us a credit once he sees this."

[ YOU WOULD FLUSH THE SINGLE MOST POWERFUL COMPUTER IN THE GALAXY? ]

"Man, shut up. You're not any smarter than my holopad."

[ TRY ME THEN. SEE HOW MUCH I KNOW. ]

For the next ten minutes, your crew peppered the turtle with all manner of questions, from how many stars there were in the galaxy to who the current Emperor was. Coco Jumbo's banks of knowledge were quite impressive, and as time went on, you started to believe its claim of being a supercomputer.

"Alright, we believe you," you said. "Although, this doesn't change our plans. If anything, it'll just make our case to Luca that you're worth a lot more than 10k."

[ YOU'RE GOING TO SELL ME? AFTER EVERYTHING I JUST TOLD YOU? THAT'S JUST AS BAD AS FLUSHING ME OUT THE AIRLOCK! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW USEFUL I COULD BE? ]

"Credits are credits." You shrugged. "It'd be nice to have you around, but unless you can scrounge up enough money to get our ship repaired, we're selling you."

[ YOU'RE THE BEST THIEVING CREW IN THE GALAXY. THINK OF HOW MUCH BETTER YOU'D BE WITH A SUPERCOMPUTER ON YOUR TEAM. I'D BE ABLE TO HACK INTO ANY BUILDING, GET YOU FAKE IDENTS, ANYTHING! ]

Was it just you, or did Coco Jumbo sound a little desperate? At any rate, you didn't blame its previous owner for wanting to sell the thing.

"For all we know, you've been planted here by Inspector Asswipe," said Narancia in a low voice. "You could be pulling all our data and flushing it to the Galactic Authorities as we speak."

Trish crossed her arms over her chest. "We're putting ourselves at a risk by trusting that you have our best interests at heart. If anyone were to get a hold of you, they'd know all of our plans, contacts and goods. We'd be done for."

Coco Jumbo's head shifted. It was thinking, you realized. It probably had expected you to fall on your knees in awe of its intelligence. This wall of resistance hadn't been calculated for.

[ YOU'RE IN A TIGHT SPOT. ] said Coco Jumbo. [ YOU'RE LOW ON FUNDS AND IN MASSIVE DEBT. IT'S A MIRACLE YOUR SHIP IS EVEN FLYING. ]

"What are you getting at?" Mista said, scowling.

[ YOU'RE GOING TO THE HUB, RIGHT? I KNOW A WAY TO GET YOU OUT OF DEBT AND REFILL YOUR ACCOUNT. I KNOW A WAY YOU COULD REPAIR YOUR SHIP. ACTUALLY, YOU COULD BUY THIS SHIP TEN TIMES OVER, IF YOU WANTED. ]

You could sense the suspicion stirring among your crew. Coco Jumbo had been cute, but now it was starting to sound calculating. Conniving, almost.

[ YOU EVER HEARD OF A MAN NAMED ZERO? ]

You exchanged glances with your crew. You made it a point to stay out of galactic politics, but Zero was someone everyone knew about, the way everyone knew about the Emperor. He'd been named the richest person in the Milky Way seven times in a row by holomags, second only to a jack-of-all-trades named Diavolo and the Imperial family. But then Diavolo had been caught up in drug trafficking and assault allegations, earning a death sentence by the Emperor when they turned out to be true. So you supposed that made Zero the richest man in the galaxy now.

Zero was coldly lethal. He asked for the most illicit and extortionate of items—items most people thought weren't even possible to steal. Because of that, gains from Zero were astronomical. He was the richest man in the galaxy, and his payments showed. Most crews could only ever dream of being called on by him. It went without saying that he didn't take failure kindly. He was a regular of the Milky Way black market and intimately familiar with which crews dealt in what. Stars, most people thought he was in charge of the black market.

And there was the tiny issue of crews not being able to deliver on their jobs winding up dead. Zero was a Stand user. That wasn't a fact or anything, but all of your crew had suspected since the first time you'd heard of the guy. It was the only way he could've killed so many people off without the GA's catching wind of it. Stars knew what his ability was, but it wasn't anything to sneeze at, that was for sure.

"Are you being serious?" said Fugo tightly. "Crews can't just ask Zero for a job. Not only is that presumptuous, it's highly insulting. He'd sooner turn us over the Galactic Authorities than give us a job."

[ I'M NOT TRYING TO INSULT ANYONE. ZERO IS ONE POSSIBILITY OUT OF A DOZEN. HE JUST HAPPENS TO BE THE ONE WITH THE HIGHEST ODDS OF SUCCESS FOR YOUR CREW. ]

There was a pause.

[ WHY HAVEN'T YOU GONE TO HIM YOURSELF ALREADY? IF YOU CALL YOURSELVES THE BEST? ]

Because that crew was light years ago. Because we can barely scrape up pocket change.

Because he made me promise never to accept a job from Zero.

"I think the turtle's got a point," said Narancia. "Why haven't we gone to Zero? With where we are now, he seems like the only one who can get us out."

Trish shook her head. "You've seen the holo-casts. A job from him would be near impossible. We're not where we used to be. We don't have the resources to pull something like that off."

"But we could get the resources. From Zero." Narancia turned to look at you. "Right, Cap? You said that you wanted a job before we left the Hub. At least I think you did anyway. Well, here's our job."

"But we don't even know if Zero has a job right now," Mista cut in.

"This is Zero we're talking about. He's always got his eye on one thing or another."

Fugo raised his voice. "Are we talking about the same man here? Crews that get caught stealing for him receive life sentences. He steals from the Imperial family, for stars' sake. Would taking a risk like that be worth it?"

"Look at us, Fugo." Narancia raised his arms, gesturing to the whole of the ship. "Seems worth it to me."

That quieted your crew. They ran their eyes over the dilapidated galley, probably thinking about when it had been shiny and sleek and actually usable. They were probably thinking about the tearing seats in the bridge and rundown engine room and the bay doors that creaked protest every time they opened.

You could see them warming to the idea, tentative hope softening the uncertainty. This yawning chasm they were about to jump into had a bottom, didn't it? It would be terrifying and potentially deadly, but how would they know if they kept peering over the edge?

Your thoughts chased each other around your head. You were wary about approaching Zero, of course you were. The richer people were, the harsher the consequences tended to be when you failed. But your crew rarely failed, at least not where retrievals were concerned. Your Stands made sure of that. That was an advantage a lot of other crews didn't have, and if you told Zero about it, it'd probably give you some sway.

The part of you that was still a starry-eyed kid on Solymus yelled at you to take the chance. This was what you'd wanted when you'd started your crew. These high-profile missions with all the stakes and all the payoff. The money, the prestige, the fame that would follow if you pulled a job from Zero off? Stars, it would make these past few crummy years all worth it.

But the part of you that was a captain—that had heard of crews mysteriously disappearing and Zero's harsh conditions—was turning away. Ditzy nobles with their heads in the clouds you could deal with—they were often too afraid of facing the authorities to ever carry out their threats. But Zero's wealth put him above galactic law. If your crew couldn't pull through, you wouldn't be able to get off as easily as you had with Lady Legarde. If he wanted, he could strip your crew of whatever repute you still had, ensuring no one in the Milky Way ever did business with you again. And that was assuming he let you keep your lives.

You need to promise me to stay away from Zero. Whatever you do, no matter what it comes to, you can't ever make a deal with Zero.

You're better off dead than with anything he can offer.

Mista tucked his elector into his shoulder holster. Hesitantly, he said, "Say we did want to meet with Zero. What would we do?"

"But we don't," Fugo said through gritted teeth.

"I'm just asking."

From the red stone inlaid in Coco Jumbo's key, a hologram projected into the air, displaying a picture of Zero. Smartly dressed in dark colours and his signature ornate mask, golden filigree curling across the black velvet and eye holes blocked in with white material. A deep green jewel hung below his left eye, almost like a teardrop. He was never seen without that mask. It was but another layer to his elusivity. The galaxy had next to no knowledge on who he actually was.

[ YOU HAPPENED TO BE INTERESTED AT THE PERFECT TIME. ZERO'S ANNUAL GALACTIC BALL IS A FEW DAYS FROM NOW. HE'LL BE IN A GOOD MOOD THEN. IF THERE WAS EVER A TIME TO ASK FOR A JOB, IT'D BE AT THE BALL. ]

"I wanted to get out of the Hub before then," Trish sighed, leaning closer to the hologram. "The pandemonium that goes on is just ridiculous."

Why the richest man in the galaxy would hold a ball at arguably the worst spot in the galaxy was anyone's guess. The only people who didn't mind were the Hub's inhabitants, who relied on Zero's spectacle of a ball to generate capital.

"How would we even get in?" asked Narancia. "It's invite-only, right?"

[ IF ANYTHING, THAT'S THE EASY PART. I CAN OUTLINE A PLAN BUT ONLY IF YOU'RE ONBOARD. WHAT NEEDS FIGURING OUT IS WHAT YOU'LL SAY TO ZERO ONCE YOU GET THERE. YOU'LL NEED— ]

"I think that's enough," Fugo interrupted crisply. "You don't need to go into more detail."

Narancia side-eyed him, obviously annoyed. You admitted that you'd wanted to hear what else Coco Jumbo had to say too. You just wondered if that was a good idea.

[ SURE THING. LIKE I SAID, THERE ARE OTHER ALTERNATIVES TO GET CREDITS. THERE ARE SEVERAL CLIENTS ON THE HUB INTERESTED IN— ]

"We should do it." This from Mista. His expression had shifted, a light of challenge entering his eye. "Coco Jumbo has made its case. Zero's the guy to go to right now."

"That's what I've been saying!" Narancia burst out. "He's not gonna be like Lady Legarde. Yeah, his job will be dangerous, but when have you heard of a crew not getting their payment? He might be the only rich person in the galaxy who will keep up their end of the bargain."

Fugo glared at them. "Don't be naïve. How many times do I have to tell you that he'll never hire us? He only accepts the best of the best. We'd be a laughingstock."

"You don't think we could do it?" Trish asked quietly.

"How does that matter? I'm saying we shouldn't waste our time on this when we have other things to worry about! We need to find a reliable, stable buyer so we can get the Passione repaired. And buy food. And restock this place! Then we can look at risking our lives!" Fugo's voice went brittle at the edges. His face was beginning to redden—a sign of the impending storm waiting to explode.

"Fugo—" you began, but Fugo turned to the turtle.

"How do I turn you off?"

[ I DON'T NEED TO BE CHARGED, IF YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT MY BATTERY LI— ]

"How do I turn you off?"

[ JUST TAKE OUT THE KEY, BOSS. ]

Fugo did so, with more force than necessary. He tossed the key onto the table with a clang. "We'll vote," he said tightly, looking at each of the crew in turn. His eyes came back to rest on you. "All in favour of going to Zero, raise your hand."

Narancia's hand shot up, followed by Mista's. Trish frowned slightly at you before slowly lifting hers as well.

Decisions on this ship were made by majority rule; the decision at the moment wouldn't change however you voted. But the crew's eyes were expectant on you, waiting to see what their Captain would choose.

He might've told you not to deal with Zero, but that had been back when everyone was still a fledgling thieving crew. You had hundreds of jobs under your belt now, and your Stands would make sure you got through whatever the galaxy had to throw at you. It would've been easier if he was still here, but you'd gotten through worse without him.

You raised your hand.

Fugo's composure cracked open. He began to shout. "I don't believe this. Did you all leave your brains behind on the satellite with Lady Legarde? We can't do this! Zero isn't some ditzy noble you can trick into giving thousands of credits. He's ruthless and doesn't give a flack about crews like us. Why are we going into a deal like that? We don't have the funds, the resources, the anything! If we fail on this mission, we'll have flacking less than that!" He jabbed a painful finger into your chest, standing close enough you could see his pupils narrowed to pinpoints. "You're the Captain! You're supposed to make decisions that will keep this crew flying, not plunge us into a death mission! You should be smart enough by now to know when a mission won't work out. Do you want us to die? Or is your ego so bruised by Lady Legarde that you don't give a flack?"

"Hey, back off!" Mista pulled on the back of Fugo's jacket, yanking him back a step. "Watch yourself, Fugo. That is not how you talk to our Captain."

"Our Captain is making a mistake!" Fugo cried. "Why can't any of you see that?"

"Why do you keep saying we can't do this?" Trish retorted. Anger simmered beneath her voice. "Have you forgotten everything we've been through? We know Zero is dangerous. We're not stupid. Despite what you think, we're not going to rush into this blind."

"It's your ego that's bruised," muttered Narancia. "We couldn't sell Coco Jumbo to Lady Legarde and all of a sudden you think we can't do anything."

Fugo bit down hard on his lip. His Adam's apple bobbed as he glared at the ground, trying to get himself under control. Like you always did whenever your engineer lost his composure, you found yourself at a loss. Wanting to reach out but not overstep.

Fugo turned on his heel, away from the galley to his quarters. The room fell silent as the doors slid closed behind him, the air ringing.

"He always does this," Mista sighed. It wasn't an annoyed sigh, just a tired one.

"I'll talk to him," said Narancia, sliding off his chair. Going to Fugo's room the way he always did after a blow-up.

"No, I'll do it," you said. You put the key back into Coco Jumbo's shell, and muttered its name, waiting for its eyes to glow red before continuing. "Narancia, you can set a course for the Hub and see if you can fit us into a slot there. Tell them we'll pay for the short notice." On credit, you added mentally.

Your pilot nodded. "Got it."

"Trish and Mista can stay here and bang out a plan for going to Zero with Coco Jumbo. I want something before we get on the ferry. Think you can do that?"

"Probably." Trish shrugged. "I bet this little turtle has a whole host of ideas."

[ I DO, ACTUALLY. 2 347 PLAN VARIATIONS, TO BE EXACT. ]

Mista looked unimpressed. "Alright, Mr. Cocky."

"Call me to the bridge when everything's done. We'll go from there," you said.

"Yes, Captain."

With that done, you made your way to Fugo's room. This course of action might have been majority rule, but without the acuity of your engineer, it was unlikely your crew would get very far.

Hopefully, you could get him on your side.

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#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

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virginiawerewoolfwazhere · 2 years

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Twilight Is So Straight, It’s Gay: An Exploration of Camp and the Unintended Queerness of Twilight

Camp aesthetic is a visual movement that communicates appeal through what would be considered tacky iconography, prescribing value (whether good or bad) through the irony of ugliness or gaudiness. It is theatrical, over-the-top, and dramatic. Campiness has long been tied inextricably to queer culture. Queer films little known to heteronormative society such as Debs, and, But I’m a Cheerleader, or even ubiquitous cult classics to the tune of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and, Hedwig and the Angry Inch are undeniably campy. Within these works, the performance of heterosexuality is unsettling and seems unnatural due to the theatricality of the relationships (one only has to see But I’m a Cheerleader’s Natasha Lyonne drowning in the mouth of her character’s football playing boyfriend during a make-out session to see what I mean here). This type of camp is intentional and pointed. However, the performance of heteronormativity can easily fall into the realm of camp without intending to.

Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight Saga is never intentionally Queer; in fact, there’s not even a whiff of overt gayness to be found in the behemoth four book teen melodrama. Edward Cullen and the rest of his vampire family, as well as the rest of the town of Forks seem to be one hundred percent heterosexual. But since its release in 2008, and especially since the 2020 Twilight “renaissance”, Twilight has accumulated a steadfast and growing queer following, leading to packed midnight showings of the films, memes, fan art, and more. Twilight’s over-performance of heterosexuality whilst simultaneously destabilizing aesthetic gender constructs places the series firmly, if unintentionally, within the campy queer classics canon.

Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble states,

“heterosexuality offers normative sexual positions that are intrinsically impossible to embody… both a compulsory system and an intrinsic comedy, a constant parody of itself…” (155).

Heterosexuality that does not have reproduction as a teleological goal is by nature not heterosexual, if society were to agree with the purpose of sexual desire as defined by anti-gay movements. In Twilight, the vampires are considered to be extremely sexually attractive, but in their current form, they cannot reproduce sexually. The relationships between vampires Alice and Jasper, Rosalie and Emmett, and, Carlisle and Esme, are now queer, because they are

“contesting the categories of sex or, at least, not in compliance with the normative presuppositions and purposes of that set of categories” (156).

However, that’s not to say that sexual anatomy and reproduction defines gender or sexuality. For Butler, the performance of gender in queer relationships has to do with the destabilization of perceived gender constructs as they come into “erotic interplay” (157). A femme lesbian being sexually attracted to only cis-gendered women, but also being aroused by a butch lesbian’s performance of masculinity, is an example of that erotic interplay. This becomes even more expansive in contemporary queer discourse, as we start to understand the performance of gender beyond the binary of men and women. Edward and Bella embody this destabilization through each of their gender crossing attributes. When Bella first witnesses Edward’s vampiric skin when it interacts with sunlight, she narrates,

“his skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday’s hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface…his shirt open over his incandescent chest, his scintillating arms bare.” (Meyer 260).

Bella later goes on to say, “I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees unwilling to take my eyes off of him” (260).

Edward becomes the object of sexual desire for Bella, subverting the narrative convention of the female being the focus of male desire.

Masculine presenting people wearing glitter and being desired sexually is an intersection of the erotic interplay of gender performances. Edward is meant to be at his most beautiful when he’s in the sun. Meyer’s reasoning for his beauty is that it makes him, according to Edward himself, a perfect predator. He says,

“Everything about me invites you in – my voice, my face, even my smell” (263).

Meyer’s vampires use the erotic interplay of masculinity embodying elements of feminine presentation as an example of the ideal form of sexual desire, and therefore are able to seduce their prey before killing them. It is reminiscent, in some ways, of the seduction of Janet and Brad by Dr. Frank N. Furter, whose own drag aesthetic is considered to be erotic to all of the characters in The Rocky Horror Picture Show at one point or another.

Edward and Bella are also transgressive due to the differences in their species. Edward states many times throughout their will-they or won’t-they courtship that their being together is a bad idea. In fact, he likens it to a predator falling in love with its prey; in the same scene where Bella sees his sparkly skin for the first time. He says,

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” (273),

noting the innate perverseness of their love. Vampire stories have been linked to queerness for nearly two centuries. Dracula leads the way with the homoerotic subtext between The Count and Jonathan Harker in Bram Stokers 1897 novel, something that is essentially canonized in the BBC adaptation from 2020. In the series, Sister Agatha Van Helsing asks Harker if he had “sexual intercourse with Count Dracula” and he remembers back to a dream he had at the castle where his sexual fantasies of Mina shift into a sexual fantasy of Dracula. The series ends with Van Helsing and Dracula together in their own sexual fantasy, which shows the way transgressive sexuality is eroticized in the vampire plot. Van Helsing hates Dracula for his cruelty, but is still attracted to him. Edward lacks Dracula’s cruelty, but his monstrous status has in actuality turned him into an ideal beauty. Bella is attracted to him in part because of his inhumanity, describing his face as angelic or godlike (Meyer 262). Her attraction to Edward is transgressive in a similar way Agatha Van Helsing’s obsession with Dracula is transgressive.

In a pivotal scene in both the book and the later 2008 adaptation starring Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson, the vampire family plays a game of baseball together. The Cullen family can only play baseball during a thunderstorm, due to their super vampire strength (apparently they can hit a baseball hard enough to be mistaken for a crack of thunder, but yet the ball remains completely intact). Baseball seems to be a fairly all American, wholesome, straightforward activity. However, the way the Cullen family plays is decidedly theatrical. Everything they do is over the top and extra, from their vehicles;

“They circled around Rosalie’s red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes” (Meyer 222),

to Edward’s piano playing, to baseball. Everything is designed to make them stand out, and apart from the rest of the town. They are the monstrous other, even if they never actually drink human blood. Their everyday activities are performance.

The Cullen family is theatrical in all things, but especially in romantic partnerships. The first night Bella and Edward ever spend together, she tells him that she loves him. He responds with,

“‘You are my life now’” (314),

which is an intense confession to make after one kiss and a sleepover. Throughout the rest of the novels, Edward and Bella remain obsessed with each other to the point of suicide. In the second installment, New Moon Edward believes Bella has died, and tries to kill himself. He says to Bella,

“I wasn’t going to live without you,” (Meyer 263).

In the last installment, Breaking Dawn, when Bella almost dies (again), he forms a suicide pact with Jacob where he wishes for Jacob to kill him if Bella doesn’t survive. He tells Jacob,

“the moment Bella’s heart stops beating, I’ll be begging you to kill me” (Meyer 70).

The theatricality of their relationship, along with the transgressive nature of the vampire plot, turns displays of heterosexuality into unintentional camp. This, paired with the erotic interplay of gender performances, shows us that Twilight is so straight, it’s gay.

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davekat-sucks · 4 months

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Well well well we have a new Beyond Canon upd8 likely within the next 2 weeks or so, and I have to say, they’ve had a good track record, none of the upd8s are so terrible that they ruin any chance for James and the team to fix the legacy of HS^2. In fact, they seem to be fixing the reputation of the comic.

What I wager is the best and worst case scenario for the next upd8, and what that entails for the fandom.

So here’s the meat and candy of my predictions.

The meaty, juicy, raw and thick with content, the good stuff would be an upd8 focusing on the candy kids. With Harry and Tavros separate from Vrissy and Vriska caught up to John the new kids can separate off from old Vriska and start their own character development, and do their own thing, alternativly we can focus on Dirk and Rosebot where Dirk’s plan to actually play the new sburb session actually happens, maybe even retroactively create the horrorterror and cherubim races, or even seeing characters like Candy roxy, Candy Rose, or Candy Kanaya work out nore of their duty to fight against Jane whilst working out the messy details in their relationship (Rose and Kanaya while Roxy talks out with John the new direction Harry should take in life, connecting to or against Harry’s character arc)

The consequences of this action would make me have less reason to be scared that Beyond Canon is some time bomb where suddenly all the writing goes to shit again, the fandom will be pleasantly surprised at the development, and continue making fanart and theories.

The sweet, fattening, and unhealthy worst case: it’s an upd8 about Meat Dave, Meat Karkat, Meat Jade, Meat Roxy, and Meat calliope. This doesn’t sound so bad, the issue is that the upd8 would go out of its way to be Davekat angst fluff. Roxy is only there to support Dave emotionally for his flush romance, Kanaya and Jade have nothing so say, and Calliope’s only relevance would be to fangirl over the pair.

The reaction from the fandom would actually be positive, especially on Twitter and Tumblr, and while barely anything gets done fans can cherrypick their favorite quotes to attempt to project meaning on the upd8 and anyone who didn’t like it goes “well there’s next upd8”

And yeah, worst case scenario isn’t the end of HS:BC, but it would be a major damage to the comic’s potential and perceived cross referential, character driven, extensively worldbuilding narrative such as its predecessor, but would be a detour for the rest of the comic, a major blow to its reputation but a tolerable out come.

I would call it strike one. In a 3 strike system, so the upd8, after a worse case scenario would have 2 more upd8s to turn the comic around and leave the upd8 as a Davekat mishap, the damage would worsen if this kind of relationship fluff overpowering the narrative development rather than develop alongside the plot would be an even worse indicator if it focused on characters with actual goals and purposes like the Candy cast, or Dirk and Rosebot. That would be strike 2. Repeated again, and the comic would basically untouchable for me.

I still have my doubts even after this update. That maybe because Jade was once again, shafted from development. Even with the meta joke about it from Davebot, you got to admit it's still bullshit. But hey, people love the Strilondes better than the HarleyEnglishberts.

Then there's the whole thing about June Egbert actually becoming a reality. I fear the worst when that happens. People will renaming John as June in future works, even when he still looks like his base male appearance. People calling others transphobic if they don't follow it. And those who are trans that try to speak out about it or say they are not a fan, will get called as fake or worse for not liking their supposed representation. I also wonder if James Roach and the rest of Homestuck Independent Creative Union (HICU) would even address other small details that were overlooked in HS2. Be it things like how Vrissy and Tavros are technically cousins and seem to imply a blackrom relationship. The same can be applied with Harry and Vrissy being cousins too if people think deep that Harry calling Vrissy babe is more flirty than playful. What about these fuckoff OCs made by the old WhatPumpkin team? Is HICU gonna continue the bonus stories of them and tie it back to HSBC? Because that was the original plan from HS2. How are they gonna make the excuse of Rose CHEATING on Kanaya? Not just the Rose that fucked dogdick Jade and have a secret child, but also the implication that Rosebot also flirted with TEREZI and would have gotten intimately close if Dirk didn't interrupt. Rose in both Candy and Meat are cheating sluts that fucked over with their supposed wife. Are they going to make Jade, Terezi, and Dirk awful people for making Rose this way despite most of the decisions were on Rose's part? Rose chose to fuck with Jade and Rose chose to leave her body behind to go with Dirk. There's too much crap built up to really say the new team handles it better. Sure they have little moments like Vriska metajokingly calling out all the bullshit, but it's better to see it fully in action than saying a wink and a nod to the audience that had to sit through the slog.

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #HS2 #HS^2 #Homestuck2 #Homestuck^2 #Homestuck Beyond Canon #HSBC #HICU #Homestuck Independent Creative Union #WhatPumpkin #What Pumpkin #Andrew Hussie

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the-kotlcopedia · 2 years

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Elven Medicine

Medicinal Elixirs

Written by; @nyxpixels

Please keep in mind that most of the following information can be found on either the Koltc wiki or the Kotlc books themselves.

(Elixirs are meant to be ingested unless stated otherwise)

Most medicinal elixirs listed below can be found at Slurps and Burps.

Abrasion Persuasion- Quickly seals and heals small scrapes to the skin.

Achey-Break- a handy, all-purpose pain killer.

“Awesomesauce”- A pain medicine nicknamed "Awesomesauce" by Keefe Sencen is one of the few medicines left in the shipments to the Healing Tent from the Council at Exillium. The actual name of the medication is unknown; however, it is a type of pain medication. It is a vial full of swirly purple syrup, it causes patients to start hiccupping and act somewhat intoxicated. Some patients have described it as tasting like kissing a muskog.

Blister Blast- Shrinks and numbs all blisters within minutes- and gets rid of them completely within a few hours when applied to the skin.

Bruise Cruise- When topically applied, fades bruises of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Drooly Dew- Temporarily makes the mouth hypersalivate. (Helpful if used to flush out toxins from mouth/ tongue.)

Fade Fuel- Speeds cell regeneration for someone who faded during a light leap. (Slurps and Burps version contains limbium.)

Gurgle Gut- Temporarily causes abundant gaseous eruptions. (Can be used to expel toxins from the body.)

Limbium- A substance used in elixirs that affects the limbic system.

Nogginease- Temporarily clears the mind to allow greater focus during studying. WARNING ADDICTIVE.

Scratches N’ Splits- Immediately seals any cuts or scratches to the skin when applied topically.

Wound Wipe- When applied to skin, it is an easy way to clean and treat small injuries.

#the kotlcopedia #kotlcopedia #kotlc #kotlc hc #kotlc headcanons #elven medicine #keeper of the lost cities

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the-official-kotlcopedia · 1 year

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Elven Medicine

Medicinal Elixirs

Written by; @nyxpixels

Most medicinal elixirs listed below can be found at Slurps and Burps.

(Elixirs are meant to be ingested unless stated otherwise)

Abrasion Persuasion - Quickly seals and heals small scrapes to the skin.

Achey-Break - a handy, all-purpose pain killer.

“Awesomesauce” - A pain medicine nicknamed "Awesomesauce" by Keefe Sencen is one of the few medicines left in the shipments to the Healing Tent from the Council at Exillium. The actual name of the medication is unknown; however, it is a type of pain medication. It is a vial full of swirly purple syrup, it causes patients to start hiccupping and act somewhat intoxicated. Some patients have described it as tasting like kissing a muskog.

Blister Blast - Shrinks and numbs all blisters within minutes- and gets rid of them completely within a few hours when applied to the skin.

Bruise Cruise - When topically applied, fades bruises of all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Drooly Dew - Temporarily makes the mouth hypersalivate. (Helpful if used to flush out toxins from mouth/ tongue.)

Fade Fuel - Speeds cell regeneration for someone who faded during a light leap. (Slurps and Burps version contains limbium.)

Gurgle Gut - Temporarily causes abundant gaseous eruptions. (Can be used to expel toxins from the body.)

Limbium - A substance used in elixirs that affects the limbic system.

Nogginease- Temporarily clears the mind to allow greater focus during studying. WARNING ADDICTIVE.

Scratches N’ Splits - Immediately seals any cuts or scratches to the skin when applied topically.

Wound Wipe - When applied to skin, it is an easy way to clean and treat small injuries.

Please keep in mind that most of the following information can be found on either the Koltc wiki or the Kotlc books themselves.

#the kotlcopedia #kotlcopedia #kotlc #kotlc headcanons #elven medicine #by: nyx

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aqueluna · 2 years

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Prompt 5 - Cutting Corners

“You know, you’d get along well with my grandson” warmly croaked the beaming, elderly Elezen man, coat-laden chest puffing up with pride as he enthusiastically shared, “He’s always loved the stars, he’s studying to become an astrologian, has the talent for it if I do say so!” His atypical guest scarce paid him a glance, considering instead the maddeningly complex system of miniature aetherytes, pipes, gears, pistons and cogs that formed the machine, running a once-crooked, now-clawed hand across a panel of levers. “And when was the last time your grandson paid you a visit?” the vaguely Viera-shaped thing questioned tactlessly in return.

Silence. A silence that spoke volumes and in truth, quite suited the monstrosity that’d found herself invited into the once-lonely halls and butchered the inhabitants, all except of course - this man. Clapping hands wreathed in a thick, crimson bark together, the voidsent’s gesture soon yielded fruit - a remarkably prim and proper, inexplicably masked manservant emerging from the doorway, dropping into a deep, sweepingly proper bow. “Take Lord Grimoald to his chambers, he’s not feeling well,” the amalgam instructed - in silence, the possessed cadaver did just that, encouraging the glum-faced, dead-eyed old man along wordlessly.

“Did the old shite a favour, better he not wait for the impossible,” the vulgar voidsent offered to no-one in particular. Or… did she? She wasn’t alone, she was never truly alone, she never would be. Running her claw along the window, a window from which only the faintest of moonlight seeped in, Fioll considered herself in the reflection.

Unnaturally pale, parchment-like flesh seamlessly melded into hardened, scarlet bark laced with sharp talons across hands that’d once been so scarred, so misshapen as to struggle to grasp and turn a door handle, shins and feet that’d once been blanketed with burn marks. The thick mane of sanguine locks that framed her face straddled the line between hair true and the ominous grasses of the land she’d been created in, replete with blooming flowers, interrupted by a pair of long, currently lopped, leporine ears. Once, she’d been content to simply play the part of a book, ever returning to the page, but now? Now she-…

“You l-look happy,” a second voice, not entirely dissimilar to her own though eminently frailer called out from within, derailing her thoughts. The smile that’d been inadvertently left lurking on the bizarre amalgam of voidsent and Spoken ebbed as the controlling voidsent snapped, “I’d be happier if you’d die off already.” Glaring at the sight of a second reflection in the window - a gangly, sunny-haired Veena woman, piteously frail, eminently worthy of scorn. “T-Then kill me. You’ve a-already taken everything e-else from me,” the stuttering reflection invited, elaborating, “You’ve a-already taken my body. You don’t n-need me anymore, r-right?”

Another silence. Another that spoke volumes between two entwined souls that’d become one in flesh, but not in purpose. “I think I’m b-beginning to understand you a little better, Fioll…” the amnesiac considered softly, posing a query that almost seemed to flush ice through their mutual veins, “You loved her, d-didn’t you? The girl with the b-bad hands.” Silence. No response. A small, sad little smile crept onto the rangy Veena’s lips, “And now w-when you look at us - at yourself, you see her, not m-me.”

A claw tensed, twitching - then raked with an awful “SCREEEEEECH!” across the pane of glass, the long grooves rent into the surface blotting out the unwelcome sight of the woman who mocked her with her very existence. Two aches festered within, hurting, mouldering - growing worse with each passing day. One of an amnesiac who’d planned to take the voidsent into her flesh, cutting corners in pursuit of a strength to match her peers - to prove useful, to still the ever-flowing torrent of worthlessness roiling within her. A woman who’d ultimately in a fit of panic, and an ill-advised attempt to try and protect one dear to her, had all her plans fall apart.

The other, of a lonely apparition without a body of her own who’d lived a lifetime at the side of her dearest friend, her only friend, a friend taken from her, desperately cutting corners to return to what was, enough so to forcefully inherit her beloved companion’s flesh, to wrest it away from the usurping amnesiac who was only an insult to her memory.

Rather than act as the soothing salve for each other’s hurt, the conjoining aches only chafed at each other, the dolorous result all the sorer for it. Blotting out the voice of the hated wretchling, Fioll stormed back across to the observatory controls, pulling, pressing and slamming levers, buttons and winches at random - the resulting screeching, whirring, hissing machinery a suitably calamitous din to drown her thoughts in.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #cutting corners #I really struggled with this one

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designs001 · 1 month

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Kitchen Lighting Trends in Dubai

The kitchen isn't only a space for cooking; it's also the heart of the house, in which families accumulate, food are prepared, and memories are made. In Dubai, wherein innovation and luxury converge, kitchen lights trends play a essential role in enhancing the functionality and aesthetics of culinary spaces. From glossy and modern-day designs to timeless classics, the evolving landscape of kitchen lights in Dubai displays a mix of sophistication, era, and cultural affects.

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Pendant Lights:

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Under Cabinet Lighting:

Under cabinet lighting serves both purposeful and ornamental functions inside the kitchen. It illuminates countertops, making responsibilities inclusive of slicing greens and studying recipes less complicated. Additionally, underneath cabinet lighting can create a visually attractive impact by using casting gentle, ambient mild at the backsplash and surrounding areas.

Recessed Lighting:

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Track Lighting:

Track lights systems consist of a couple of adjustable mild furniture installed on a tune, allowing for customizable lighting fixtures answers within the kitchen. They provide flexibility in directing light where it's needed most, making them ideal for highlighting precise areas inclusive of counter tops, paintings, or architectural features.

Recent Trends in Kitchen Lighting in Dubai

Emphasis on Energy Efficiency:

In line with Dubai's commitment to sustainability, there's a growing emphasis on energy-efficient lighting fixtures solutions in kitchen design. LED lights, specially, are gaining popularity due to their lengthy lifespan, low energy consumption, and ability to provide shiny, crisp light with out generating heat.

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Statement Lighting Fixtures:

Statement lighting fixtures are making a ambitious declaration in Dubai's kitchen design scene. From outsized pendant lighting to sculptural chandeliers, homeowners are embracing attractive furnishings that serve as focal factors and verbal exchange starters. These declaration pieces upload drama, persona, and a hint of luxurious to modern kitchen interiors.

Warm and Inviting Ambiance:

In evaluation to the glossy and minimalist aesthetic regularly associated with cutting-edge layout, there may be a developing trend closer to developing heat and inviting kitchen areas in Dubai. Soft, diffused lighting, warm coloration temperatures, and herbal substances together with wood and stone make contributions to a comfortable and inviting atmosphere that encourages rest and socializing.

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When choosing lighting fixtures for your kitchen, numerous factors have to be taken into consideration to make sure greatest capability, aesthetics, and energy efficiency.

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Incorporating energy-efficient lights into your kitchen now not only reduces your carbon footprint however additionally saves you money on power payments in the end. Look for furnishings with the ENERGY STAR label or LED lights with excessive lumens consistent with watt (LPW) scores for maximum performance.

Tips for Effective Kitchen Lighting Design:

Creating a well-lit and visually appealing kitchen requires careful planning and attention to detail. Here are some pointers for designing an effective lighting scheme:

Layering Lighting for Functionality and Ambiance:

Layering different kinds of lighting, inclusive of ambient, undertaking, and accessory lighting, creates intensity and dimension inside the kitchen. Combine overhead fixtures with under cabinet lighting fixtures, pendant lighting fixtures, and recessed lighting to acquire a balanced lights scheme that meets your needs for each functionality and environment.

Incorporating Dimmers for Versatility:

Installing dimmer switches allows you to adjust the brightness of your kitchen lighting to suit extraordinary sports and moods. Dimmers offer flexibility and versatility, allowing you to create a relaxed environment for intimate dinners or brighten the gap for cooking and enjoyable.

Balancing Natural and Artificial Light Sources:

Take benefit of herbal mild by way of maximizing windows and skylights on your kitchen design. Natural light not handiest reduces the need for synthetic lights during the day however additionally creates a experience of openness.