#broken contract dialogue

[sugar-grigri]

Denji is awake, Asa is already inside and Yoshida is Chainsaw Man's ally

We interpreted the last chapter in reverse, so why not continue the exercise?

I haven't read any reaction, but I know in advance that Yoshida will be shown in the same way: as a cold being always there to make Denji's situation worse. But the observation is quite the opposite: he's the one who's constantly negotiated for his situation. Worse still, interpreting him as an ally makes everything absolutely clearer.

I know what I'm saying may come as a surprise, after all, he's the one who announced Denji's dismemberment and doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop it. But don't interpret things that way, the whole answer is in the title.

The title refers to the ambient sounds of Denji's dismemberment, having no words at all, whereas titles usually refer to the dialogue in the chapter. Why is this? Because the answers are in the scenery and the unspoken words.

For example, the answers lie in the questions that seem to be answers (stay focused): for example, we learn that Denji slept for a week… OK… but why exactly did they let him sleep for a week ? The protagonist asks Yoshida: why didn't you wake me up before?

In addition : why wake him now?

The chapter deliberately focuses on a cold Yoshida, who announces that he's put him back to sleep. But why wake him up to tell him all this and then put him back to sleep? After all, the contract had already been broken, Denji couldn't negotiate.

Because it's been a week since Yoshida negotiated to give Denji one last chance. In any case, the time that has elapsed shows that there have been negotiations about what to do with this out-of-control Chainsaw Man. Why is Yoshida doing this? Because more and more, he starts trying to protect him, even though he's supposed to control him. We'll see that his principles and his own way of surviving will also be increasingly undermined.

Yoshida knows that Asa has a connection with devils, whether it was when he prevented Denji from revealing his identity after fighting Yuko or or when he assisted Yoru during the aquarium arc. Telling her to stay away from Denji was a means of protection, as he knew that she was a disruptive element, which could lead Denji to either reveal his identity or transform and thus put himself in danger.

In chapter 132, Yoshida appeared in an extremely dominant position with a bound Denji, with Yoshida looking almost antagonistic. But in reality, the direct consequence of Yoshida's intervention was an equal negotiation around a table about Nayuta and being Chainsaw Man in the chapter 133 that followed. Above all, Yoshida presented himself as a malevolent force when, in reality, Nayuta arrived earlier than expected, a sign that she was safe and already freed.

Above all, we know that there is a mole because the information leaked to the detriment of the church, the public hunters were aware of the attack to the point that Quanxi stopped it before it went off at 5pm. Worse than a leak, there was an exchange of information because the church was not at all destabilised and had already planned its response with the fire demon.

If you're still not convinced: then interpret Fumiko as the strict inverted product of the system that Yoshida has become. Fumiko is a hunter who presents herself as younger than she is, calling Denji senpai even though she's older than he is, while Yoshida never behaves like the teenager he is.

Fumiko also presents herself as Denji's ally, showing that she sees him as a child, whereas she has never had the will to protect him and has always dehumanized him. Yoshida does the opposite, presenting himself as Denji's enemy, playing on the fact that he's the only figure among the public hunters to negotiate with him and face his wrath, preventing him from doing what he wants while secretly helping him.

Yoshida is beginning to worry about Denji, otherwise he'd be totally indifferent to the fact that he doesn't grasp the stakes of the dilemma the hunters are imposing on him. The aim of the public hunters was to send a hunter around Denji's age for more connection, but in reality it's Yoshida who is becoming more sensitive to Denji's actions than Denji is to Yoshida's words.

By being this mediator who enters into direct negotiations, he feels that he is not only responsible for what Denji may do, but by dreading the fact that he breaks the rules, he also begins to dread the consequence of having broken them: Denji will be in danger.

Negotiations then took place for a week to improve Denji's situation, but failed given the way Chainsaw Man behaved out of control. Yoshida could do nothing officially, so he turned to the last resource he had left: the war devil.

When Yoshida confronted Asa, we sensed that he himself was unsettled by what he was doing. We also feel this unease expressly in this chapter, when he sees the state Denji is in.

But what interests us most is that he apologizes to Asa for attacking her, even though she had followed the rules. It's as if Yoshida realised that, even if he made sure that we totally complied with the State and its conditions (Asa had to stay away from Denji, Denji mustn't transform), that wasn't enough to guarantee the security they were hoping for in return.

All this overturns Yoshida's principles in two ways. From a relational point of view, Yoshida sees solitude as a way of life less likely to be hurt, and we also see that his criteria for normality are the fact of being isolated. But the hunter's tactic backfired: instead of not getting hurt, he became increasingly concerned about the fate of the man he was supposed to dehumanise.

On another level, Yoshida's survival strategy is to trust the system, to trust it blindly and to accept its logic, hence his eyes without a glint in them, like Kishibe's, who had integrated them so as not to suffer. But more and more, he realises that this is not enough to guarantee safety. He realised this when he attacked Asa himself. But above all, Denji himself has never broken the rules. He never revealed his identity to anyone. And when he turned into the Chainsaw Man, the contract had already been broken by the actions of Barem, who attacked his dogs and cat. In reality, Denji trusted Yoshida's words, he had fully integrated them, but the state failed to protect him as it had promised.

It is easier, even if only politically, to accuse a 17-year-old teenager of not honouring his commitment than to recognise that the state was unable to protect dogs and a cat from the actions of the church to prevent this transformation.

But above all, and this is what's fascinating, is that Yoshida uses this very political way of presenting this state failure when he opens the doors and is heard by Fumiko and the other agents, as if to convince them that he's still on their side. Yoshida thought it was enough to be alone and trust the system, but Asa and Denji proved that it wasn't enough. This trust in the state can be represented by the tako-tsubo trap: the octopus enters these cylindrical jars thinking it can protect its fragile constitution by sticking to the sides, but in reality, the octopus remains at the bottom of the trap.

Yoshida becomes aware of the trap he is in and helps Denji more and more. When did he have this realisation? I can't date it, but what I can say for sure is that in chapter 156, he intends to help Denji. He wakes him up to talk to him one last time, he gives him information, if only temporal, and Denji only confirms the failings of the system: Yoshida doesn't know Nayuta's fate because the state has completely failed to protect her.

But more importantly, takotsubo is also a fairly rare heart condition that can be brought on by a great emotional shock, which Yoshida wants to avoid by isolating himself. But as we said, he's already in the trap, so he's already become more emotional.

So Yoshida wants to help Denji, but how? By doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do, bringing Asa back into the equation by warning her about Denji's situation and his position.

The dismemberment of Chainsaw Man is a more than secret operation, and Fumiko asks Yoshida for confirmation, a sign that he is one of the only people with the most reliable information about Chainsaw Man's fate. No-one else could have warned Asa. But above all, Yoshida's information is going to help the war demon: by redeeming himself.

Denji has one leg removed, then the other, but what's left? His arms, right? Whereas Asa's legs are shown at the very end. But what was she missing? Her arms, right?

And what are these doctors doing, harvesting limbs and obviously? On top of that, it's a big number... 26... 27... what the public hunters are surely doing is to weaken Chainsaw Man as much as possible by dividing him up, but to accentuate his division, they're pulling on Denji's strap to force his regeneration while playing on his sleep to leave him unconscious. A large number of Denji's body members are harvested.

And who cut off Asa's arm? Yoshida. What could he do? Place her arm among all Denji's arms. To leave her with a weapon of choice within these walls. Warn Asa, and take advantage of her severed arm by recovering it, was Yoshida's plan B.

I know your headache's already there, but let's get on with it. What's the chapter title? Ambient noises, right? But who hears them?

I'm going to say the first sounds are those of the helicopter. The others are those of the dismemberment operation. But who hears all these successive noises? Isn't Denji supposed to be asleep?

Quite simply because Denji has woken up, not physically but to recover his senses a little, hence the detail of his clenched fist and the fact that he can now hear. How is this possible? Probably because Yoshida made sure not to shoot him completely. Why not? Because not only does he need Denji to remain at least minimally conscious, he also needs him to stay awake out of fear for the uncertainty surrounding Nayuta's fate.

We can see that Nayuta's fate agitates Denji and even makes him semi-conscious. Telling her that she was fine would have had the opposite effect, as Denji would have had no desire to get up. I think you can see where I'm going with this, but it was in Denji's interest to frustrate him even more about Nayuta and that's exactly what Yoshida did.

Let's make a brief philosophical and legal point: Leviathan by Hobbes is a work that forms one of the bases for thinking about the relationship between man and the state. Hobbes wrote this essay while traumatized by the English civil wars, for whom the only way to avoid chaos would be to give our liberties to a powerful monarch.

Man is a danger to social well-being; his natural reflex is domination, enslavement and violence.

Giving our freedoms to the state provides a powerful arbiter who in turn ensures security and social peace - the social contract. Why Leviathan? Leviathan is none other than the State, a creature invented by men, against which no individual can compete. Yoshida works for the state and therefore symbolically for Leviathan, the octopus demon.

The quid pro quo of this contract with the State, the Leviathan, is security, which is not guaranteed, as Yoshida can testify. So what does Yoshida do? He helps the figure whose popularity threatened that of the State as the guardian of social peace. But above all, he is helping the element that the state fears most - civil war, i.e. war within its borders. Within its walls.

If Yoshida and Asa have one thing in common, it's that they prefer to be alone to avoid suffering. What they do, however, is join forces to prevent Denji from stopping suffering, to enable them to move forward just like the legs they lack.

Just like friends would do.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 156 #yoshida hirofumi #yoshida #asa mitaka #denji #denji hayakawa #nayuta #nayuta hayakawa #yoru #barem #fami #quanxi #my thoughts

[roo-bastmoon]

Off My Chest

Rant about Hybe under the cut. I give you my word I will try to post a majority of positive content, because the world (and my mental health) doesn't need more negativity, but sometimes you just gotta vent.

Folks, if you've known me for a hot second, you've realized I am a Jimin-biased Jikooker... but I am OT7, and I sincerely love and support BTS.

I believe Jimin is a grown man who can advocate for himself and I believe Jungkook absolutely supports and adores him, whatever their relationship status is.

I always try to accentuate the positive and avoid online drama and negativity as much as possible, but I need to get this off my chest.

I will never be gas-lit into believing that the way Jimin was treated in solo era was fair, or equitable, or even made any kind of business-sense. I've genuinely tried to entertain other people's points of view and listen to people who claim to have industry expertise, but...

I will never forget his mail being tampered with four times, his leaked insurance information, denial of more music videos, overlapped solo release, only 9 days of promotion, split title tracks, no radio or play-listing, no bio for his Spotify for months, no restock of his single CD for months, hundreds of thousands of frozen and deleted sales, millions of culled streams, shady articles in WeVerse and Billboard, insulting dialogue in In the Seom, failure to submit to RIAA certification for months, only a paywall documentary on WeVerse, zero official acknowledgement of his Hot 100 #1, 1 billion streams on Spotify, or wins for The Fact, MAMA, and two Webbys, plus broken in-ears, anemic little balloons and a sad background tarp as decorations for his fan events… and the company telling him how doing more would just be impossible.

I compare all that to the push that other members and other groups got, and I know it just isn't true. It wasn't impossible.

Hell, Jeon Jungkook put in more effort to promote Jimin’s work and showed more respect for Jimin as an artist during his at-home lives than that whole company did, which honestly makes no sense from a profit standpoint.

I will never forget it, and I will not entertain arguments that say I’m a solo or an anti or jealous about it. I have eyes.

I am not out to shade any other members nor put forth any conspiracy theories. I simply want all our boys to get everything they justly deserve.

And yes, other members have suffered mishaps and neglect, but nothing of this scale, this consistently. It baffles me, I cannot understand it, and I'm done trying. Something strange was going on behind the scenes and we may never be privy to the details.

In trying to put this awful feeling behind me, I will say I am elated that Jikook are serving together and can support each other. I am glad there will be a Jikook travel show. I'm continually impressed with all of Jimin's success (in the military and professionally) despite all odds. I will always love and support all of BTS with my full heart.

And I sincerely hope the company has been taking notes and course-corrects for PJM2, even if it rubs some higher ups the wrong way if they had a different vision. Considering Jimin’s unique talents and his amazing star power—even his ability to bring Paris and New York to a screaming standstill just for the opportunity to see him exit a car—I would hope the company will “do their best to promote all labels and artists without discrimination” going forward.

But what happened truly sucked, and I needed to get that off my chest. I am not interested in further discussion or debate. I am now going to do my best to shift my focus and energy on to the things I want to manifest, instead of the things that enrage me.

So let me end on a positive and hopeful note: I put all my trust in Jimin, who signed a new contract with Hybe and who unfailingly adores all his members. There can be no love without trust. I will always do my best to trust BTS.

But I'm watching carefully. For Jimin and all our boys.

Love, Roo

#jimin #jikook #park jimin

[shesluxurious]

°｡⋆⸜Workplace love.. Miguel O’hara.

Warnings: 18+ content!, modern au, public-ish sex, unprotected sex, piv, mating press, taboo themes at the workplace, no aftercare mentioned.

Art: b_luediary on instagram!!

Authors note: haven’t written in a long, long time so this is more to see if i can still write. didn’t include much dialogue since its practice =^•^=

This wasn't right. You both knew that.

You wanted to push him away, think rationally, keep your morals.

But all of that was easily forgotten, the mutual feeling of lust tying you together like webs,

leaving you trapped.

You laid on the desk, papers, pens, and his glasses dropping to the floor from the shakes of the wood. Miguel's hand covered half of your face, keeping the sinful, yet angelic sounds that escaped your lips at bay. His other hand had a tight grip on your thigh, the skin molding under his tight hold, his fingers occasionally pulling up your garter, and letting it fall back down onto your skin with a smack.Your squirms and whimpers from the sting were just beautiful to him, making the crease between his brows deepen, and the snaps of his hips turn more feral. 

Your hands held onto his shoulders tightly, nails nearly ripping the fabric of his dress shirt. Your heels dug into his sacrum, you were holding him like he would crumble into nothing before you. Miguel would whisper to you: all of the things he thinks, desires, and loves about you. His voice was dark and gravelly as he spoke, making your toes curl to your soles, and for your walls to tighten around him shamelessly. Miguel seemed to know everything; everything to make your breath hitch, your thighs twitch, and cunt drool.. His hand roamed all over your body, groping, slapping, and rubbing whichever part of you he was able to reach.

Miguel knew you were close, he could feel you, feel every muscle contract and tighten around him, making him hiss each time from the sensation. Miguel removed his hand from your mouth, missing the sight and feel of your lips. He lowered his head, catching you by surprise as he kissed you again. Your face represented pure bliss; you were an angel in his eyes, one he’s willing to drag down with him for his own selfish desires.

You brought a hand to your face, biting onto your knuckles, only Miguel's voice repeating for you to be quiet in your head. Miguel lost every sense of control from the sight: your eyes closed shut, small wrinkles surrounding your eyelashes from the force, your knuckles turning white from your teeth, blouse unbuttoned and skirt perfectly bunched up on your hips. Miguel brought both hands to the backs of your legs, folding them over till you felt your knees against your chest. You didn't think about the consequences at this moment, you didn't think about anything but him, his filthy promises repeating in your mind like a broken record. 

Once Miguel plunged back into you from this new angle, the warm coil in your stomach snapped. Your entire body quivered, your hands coming to hold onto whatever you could, moans freely falling from your lips and bouncing across the walls.. Miguel's head was tucked into your neck, canines grazing over your beautiful skin as he spoke to you. “There she is.” He mumbled into your skin, his cock beginning to twitch inside of you, signaling his own peak.

Your brows furrowed and a string of drool was just ready to slip past your chin, but Miguel cleaned it up for you, his tongue grazing over the skin of your face painfully slow. Miguel pulled out, his moans and groans turning needier as he slapped his tip against your cunt, both of your juices mixing together to create a wet smacking sound as he spilled all over you.

His head was leaned back, his eyes closed and mouth agape while he allowed himself to create a mess on you. His thighs twitched in a matching rhythm of your own twitching thighs, his breathing heavy and uneven as his head slowly tipped forward. Miguel looked at you, all of you; you were a piece of art, a painting so perfect it needed to be destroyed, 

and he intended on doing so.

#🎀⋆｡˚ miggy! ₊ ⊹ #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #⋆lux’s diary⋆

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 019: The Piggyback

If you had the chance to do it over again with Eddie — and DO IT RIGHT — would you?

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020* * = somewhat smut , ** = smut

CW: hospital setting, dialogue heavy, uncertainty, fluff, talks of blood/broken bones/etc., car accident implications

word count: 2.5k words

“I’ll pick up these broken pieces ‘til I’m bleeding, if that’ll make it right.”

♡

Hawkins Memorial Hospital reeks of bleach wipes and bitter tears.

“Eddie…” Dustin wails. “No no no, noooo. Eddie…”

You’re sitting on the floor of the nurses station with Robin, Steve, and Nancy while the ‘kiddos’ occupy the waiting chairs. Surely, it's got to be unsanitary, but contracting germs off the floor of the ICU were the least of your concerns.

Your eyes follow Wayne as he helplessly wheels around, talking to anyone who would lend him an ear... anyone who would possibly know anything about his nephew’s condition.

“And my nephew — Eddie — he's self-employed,” Wayne continues to tell them.

Wheeling…wheeling…wheeling…

“But the Program he’s with allows him to go through Scott Clarke. You know Scott Clarke Insurance? It’s S-c-o-t-t, C-l-a-r-k-e… I’m through them too…”

But the able-bodied personnel are too fast for old Wayne, walking at a speed about 5mph while his frail fingers can only allow him up to 2 and a half. Just like the liters of oxygen he is on.

“Does he have a case manager assigned to him yet?” Wayne wonders. “If so I would like their name, please.”

Eventually Wayne’s voice fades the further away he gets. And just so you don't wallow in your misery, you go to your phone to see if anyone else has been reaching out to you for updates.

Justice (Hellfire)

Omg just heard the news! Hey girlie, is Eddie ok??? Can we come see him yet??

Just as you expected. Annoyed, you respond.

Girl fuck you

Suddenly a hand squeezes your kneecap. You didn't realize how aggressively you were tapping your feet until Max stops you.

“Doing okay, sis?”

“Yeah I'm just...” you sigh. “…going through all the emotions I guess. And in a fucked up way, I'm kinda convinced this is all my fault."

“You're a dumbass," she scowls at you. "How could you have possibly seen this coming? This was not in anyone’s control."

“I broke the rule,” is all you say. “We never go to bed angry.”

The odds have always been against you. You would think you knew that by now. It was probably why you spent all morning beating yourself up; because you knew that if you did, there's a huge possibility that Eddie would pull through. The Universe is twisted like that.

Suddenly, a pair of white coats are seen coming out of Eddie's room. Everybody in the party immediately stands, like it's some formation exercise at a bootcamp of sorts. Wayne eventually circles back as well, gazing up at Dr. Owens with hopeful eyes.

“Eddie is going to be okay,” Owens concludes. “You can all breathe now.”

The room fills with bone-weary, but nonetheless celebratory cheers. Owens and Eddie's nurse, Nurse Patty allows everybody to hug one another in relief. Eddie's doctor goes to speak again when the clamor dies down.

“But he did have to undergo emergency surgery,” Dr. Owens adds. “And he lost a lot of blood, so we have him on additional transfusions, as well as an antibiotic for an infection caused by his wounds. The plan for him is to recover, hopefully get him up with therapy when the time is right, and then he can get out of here.”

“Can we see him?” your voice cracks.

“That is up to him," the doctor responds. "But for now, what the young man told me is that he wants chocolate pudding... and to see his Uncle and girlfriend."

You and Wayne waste no time. Unlocking the brakes of his wheelchair, you lug Eddie's uncle into ICU room #010, unsure of what is to greet you behind the curtains.

The room is littered with juice and jello, laced by an overpowering bleach-esque fragrance that most likely was there to mask the innate smell of blood and other bodily fluids.

Beep, beep, beep, goes the familiar IV machine. And funny enough, Eddie has his TV on, blasting South Park on full volume, exactly the way it normally would be playing at the Harrington-Munson estate.

"…tell everyone the truth about whose fault this is! I didn't do anything!" ... "...you KNEW about the prank, you could've stopped it at any time, but you didn't say a word. SILENCE IS VIOLENCE!"

And there is Eddie, dressed in a mesh-fabric gauze bandana, a worn-out beige hospital gown, with matching grippy socks. His entire lower lip is busted, left arm in a cast, both of his heels elevated with blood-saturated pillows. And his hair... you didn't even want to think about the matting. But that is ground to be covered much later.

When Eddie sees the two of you, he only utters one sentence:

“Does this mean I finally get that motorcycle?”

“You fucking idiot!” you wail going in to hug him.

Eddie chuckles solemnly as you completely fall into his embrace, soaking his gown with your salty tears.

"I thought we lost you, Eddie,” you whisper in his ear as you sniff your tears away. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we did...knowing what I said."

He strokes your hair. "You have every right to be mad at me. I've been such a shitty boyfriend to you."

“I second that,” Wayne huffs, crossing his arms. “The idiot part, I mean… but I’m glad you’re okay, son.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles. “I knew those Eddie Stops would catch up to me one day.”

Eventually, the rest of the party spills in, starting with the batallion of younger Hellfire boys who were inconsolable all morning, absolutely petrified of losing their role-model.

"Jesus,” Dustin breathes. “We thought you were a-goner!”

"Hey guys, good to see ya," Eddie grins, soaking up every bit of attention from his little minions as they all pile on top of him. Suddenly, he flinches. "Hey hey hey, watch my IVs! I've got an important med running through that piggyback."

"Right, sorry," they all utter in unison as they separate themselves from him.

Steve is next in line to give Eddie a hug, followed by Robin, and Nancy, and soon Jonathan. Chrissy and Argyle are the next people to trail in, with Henry and Nina at their tail. Then, the Corroded Coffin boys soon after.

"Eddie, oh my god!" Chrissy cries. "Don't you ever scare any of us like that again!"

"Good to see ya, Chris," Eddie smiles, giving her a one-armed hug. "Hey Neens! Creel! Villalobos. Boys.”

"So not cool man," Argyle shakes his head. "So not cool. We were worried sick for you."

As you all iron out the details, it is discovered that Eddie got into the accident shortly after leaving your place. He, in fact did, pull an Eddie Stop, failing to see the car coming at him from his left side, which then resulted in him getting T-boned. The other driver was okay. In fact, he was the one who called the ambulance for him.

"How much longer until you're discharged?" Nancy asks.

"I'm not too sure," Eddie sighs. "Hopefully in a few weeks."

He fails to sit up completely, wincing once again when his pain drags him down. Everybody nearly rushes to his aid, tenderly lowering Eddie back onto the bed while encouraging him to take it easy.

"Don't even worry about it, Eds," Lucas assures him. "We can hold down the fort."

"Oh that's reassuring," Eddie mutters sarcastically, shaking his head in discontent.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing!"

---

You decide to stay with Eddie for the afternoon while everyone else goes home. A couple others stay behind as well, so you all take turns alternating, helping the nurses with their care and making sure Eddie isn't alone when a specialist from his team comes to see him.

But for now, it's just you and him, cuddled up in his rather stiff hospital bed, watching TV to pass time by.

"It feels weird sitting in place for once," he comments. "My body isn't used to laying down for a long period of time."

"Constantly in fight or flight, huh?" you tut. "Always on the go..."

Eddie whistles. "God, you have no idea..."

"Nah, I do," you insist, grabbing his hand to kiss it. "Our flights just look a lil different is all."

Suddenly, your phone rings again, causing both you and Eddie to jolt in shock. This time, it's your FaceTime ringtone... and on the other line, is Kassidy, quite possibly accompanied by the other Hellfire Girls.

"Jesus H. Christ," you mumble. "They've been spamming me all morning. Probably just wanna know how you're doing."

"Answer it," Eddie encourages you sharply. His tone is rather gruff, and urgent. "I need to talk to them."

Because you're nice enough to allow the girls the luxury of knowing their lord and savior is alive, you answer the call and hand your phone to Eddie. There's a slight pause before the call is connected.

"Hi," is all Eddie says.

"Eddie! OMG!" the girls squeal through the other line, of course all while failing to acknowledge you — the person whose number they called in the first place. "Are you okay?!"

"Yes girls, I'm fine..." he sighs. "How's Hellfire? Everyone holding down the fort?"

"Of course, just like we do best," Kassidy responds. "We just miss you, Eddie. What happened?"

"Got T-boned."

"OMG, whose fault was it?"

"Mine," he seems relatively short with them.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in a little bit of pain. But I got some pain meds to help me."

"Thank God!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hospital walls, Nina and Chrissy stare at each other in bewilderment, a look that is naturally followed by one of disgust.

"Oh I know damn well..." Nina shakes her head.

"Stupid ass bitches," Chrissy adds.

Being the nosy girls they are, Nina and Chrissy crane their heads over into the room, eavesdropping on the FaceTime conversation between Eddie and the Hellfire Girls.

"Oh Eddie," Emmy pouts. "We're so glad that you're doing okay."

"Yeah, Eddie!" Lady chirps. "When do you think you'll be released?"

"Hopefully I'll be out in about two weeks," Eddie responds. "But I'll stay at home for a bit before coming back. You won't even know I'm gone."

The girls cheer obnoxiously on the other line. You try to act indifferent towards everything for Eddie's sake, but it's hard for you to feign something that so evidently isn't true.

Eddie senses it. And what he says next to the girls takes you by surprise.

"...But," Eddie says. "In that same amount of time, I expect your lockers to be cleared... as well as your side of the dressing room."

There's a brief silence while the girls try to piece together what Eddie means by that. Because surely it doesn't mean what they initially thought it meant.

"Why? Are we getting moved?"

"No, you're all getting terminated."

So it was exactly what they thought it meant.

"Wh-what? Why?!"

"What do you mean why?" Eddie demands.

He begins to list off everything they have done wrong, all of which they pretended to be oblivious about until now.

"The final straw is calling my girlfriend's phone, non-stop, knowing that's the only way to get through to me," Eddie goes on. "And not even acknowledging her! And even if you did, you all have some damn nerve considering what you guys did at Hellfire."

"You don't even have proof of us damaging her property though!" Justice argues. "So for all we know, you're just accusing us of things, Eddie."

"That's funny," you speak up. "Who said anything about property damage?"

Caught in their own trap.

The MAIN reason Eddie couldn't fire the Hellfire Girls when they put sugar in your gas tank was because you didn't have any proof that they did it, therefore it wouldn't hold up well if the girls decided to sue for wrongful termination. Again, lots of legalities to come in to play.

The girls were smart though. Choosing to wreck your car because they knew it was parked in the security camera's blindspot. Essentially, after the damage was done, it would be your word against theirs. And there was only so much that Eddie could do with the "subtle jabs". But now that you have a confession, Eddie can work off of that.

"But Eddie!" Justice whines. "This is so unfair. We've known you, and been at Hellfire longer than she has."

"Two weeks," Eddie reiterates, still firm on his decision. "That's enough time for you ladies to figure out the next step. I wish you the best of luck."

The ending of the FaceTime call wasn't a pretty one. It mainly consisted of denying and bargaining, all of which Eddie did not have the energy to be receptive to.

You and Eddie continue to hash it out with the girls over the phone, all while Nina and Chrissy were twerking in celebration because it meant more money for them during tip outs. And most importantly, celebrating you getting the justice you deserve...along with the possibility of you coming back.

"That was something I should've done way long ago," Eddie sighs as he hands you your phone back. "I hate dealing with legal shit."

"I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible," you frown.

"And I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible to you," Eddie counters. "I really wish I could've done more for you. But up until now my hands were tied legally, honey. And financially."

"It was a sticky situation," you mutter. "But...I knew you had a favorite."

He kisses your forehead once more and you lean into him again, resting your head against his chest and wrapping your leg around his torso.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry!"

You asunder again.

"You think you're gonna find enough dancers in time?" you ask him.

"We'll be okay four dancers short," Eddie assures you. "And besides, more tips for the other ladies when it comes down to tip-outs. They did Hellfire a favor."

Exactly what Chrissy and Nina were thinking.

"Speaking of Hellfire..." Eddie quips. "Does this mean you're coming back?"

"Only if I'm still welcome."

"Of course you are, babe," Eddie chuckles. "Everyone there loves you."

Your heart flutters at the forsaken "L" word, uttered with so much certainty and fondness.

"...including me," Eddie adds. "I love you, man."

You bite your lip to contain your excitement as you blush, giving Eddie a light punch across his chest.

"I love you too...man."

And as a way to poke fun at you, Eddie flashes you a "surf's up" sign with his non-crippled fingers. He puts on his most pretentious California accent possible, one he learned how to do from Argyle.

"Righteous...man."

And before it could get any more intimate, Chrissy makes her way into the room, reaching into her tote bag to give you something she's been holding onto since she arrived.

You watch as she unveils a familiar velvet garment — your cloak. She gives you a courtly bow as she hands it back over to you, symbolizing an end to your very brief retirement from Hellfire, and a permanent seat at The Party's table.

"You know Hargrove, I believe..." says Chrissy. "...that this is for you."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #the piggyback #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #dustin henderson #max mayfield #dustin and eddie #eddie and dustin #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #joseph quinn #joe quinn #chrissy cunningham #Spotify

[queen-breha-organa]

I wanted to briefly come back online and discuss the WGA and, in turn, the current writer's strike.

I know my opinion matters very little, and I don’t consider myself an expert or a valuable voice in this matter. However, since I talk about Star Wars a lot, I wanted to discuss the strike because these things go hand in hand. I think it’s unfair to ignore the real-world circumstances that shape the media you enjoy. Knowing the context of something is important. And beyond that, this situation has just been on my mind, and I wanted to express my thoughts somewhere. 

Firstly, all workers should be paid living wages. All workers deserve to be treated fairly and compensated fairly. All workers deserve safe, productive, and fair working environments—end of story.

I’ve been seeing a lot of jokes along the lines of “I didn’t even know media had writers these days,” and while I understand the joke and the potential humor in it, I feel like it’s important to realize that this is entirely why the WGA is striking in the first place.

The writer’s rooms are shrinking. Writers are being overworked. Writers are being underpaid. Writers are being dismissed and undercut. These factors lead to poorly written and poorly managed shows because the individuals who write the bones of the shows are exhausted and burdened by corporate interference, unreasonable deadlines (especially in animation), unfair wages, and stale corporate agendas.

Additionally, these writers often aren’t given the opportunity to oversee or manage their writing while it’s being filmed. Instead, companies are acting as if the writing process ends before the filming process so that they can shorten the writer's contracts and pay them less. However, in actuality, the writing process is often most valuable during the filming process. 

Some things work on paper but don’t work on the day. Maybe the joke doesn’t land, or an actor can’t deliver the line as intended. Writers are needed on set to rework and revise these lines, so the process can run smoother without sacrificing story and believability. Now some actors are incredible at improvising and can make these things work. However, overall, without writers on set, you usually end up with awkward/stiff dialogue or scenes that make no sense. Writing doesn’t stop in the writers' room.

Another massive force driving this strike is the evolution of streaming services. 

With “traditional” tv reruns, the network airing the media has to purchase the viewing rights of the episode or the show. This money is then extended to the people who worked on the show in the form of residuals. It makes sense. Something you worked on makes money, so in turn, you get money. 

However, streaming services have broken this mold by allowing consumers to watch whatever media whenever they want. Streaming services claim that it is no longer possible to pay residuals for these shows since they don’t know how often or when the shows are being watched. This is a lie.

Companies will brag privately in shareholder's meetings and publicly in articles about streaming shows that have done well. We’ll read headlines like “Stranger Things’ Was Most-Streamed TV Show in 2022” or “‘Star Wars’ vs. Marvel: Which Disney+ Shows Are Most-Viewed.” These articles and the data within them prove it is possible to know how frequently shows/movies are being watched on streaming services. Still, companies are only willing to shell out this information for bragging rights and not for fair payments.

In 2021, Disney CEO Bob Chapk earned $32 million. In contrast, the WGA website states, “Median weekly writer-producer pay has declined 4% over the last decade. Adjusting for inflation, the decline is 23%.” These writers are merely asking for 3%, while CEOs are given the moon.

This is unacceptable.

If you’re reading this post, if you’re on Tumblr and engaging with fandoms enough to have this post written by me, a Star Wars blog, circulate on your feed, media writing has affected your life. Writers have impacted you and your daily routine and hobbies. 

You should care about this strike. You should be supporting this strike. 

We all want our favorite shows to come back, we all want to reunite with our favorite characters, and we all want to see their stories, their triumphs, and their struggles. 

But the real people behind these stories and behind these characters are far more important than any fictional narrative. 

These writers have crafted the worlds and stories we love, and by supporting them, we can return the favor and craft a better world for them too.

#Writers strike #real people matter more than the new season of your favorite show #Long post

[red-dead-sakharine]

Baldur's Gate 3 masterlist

◀️ Back to the Master-masterlist

▶️ Varvain Masterlist

- Raphael -

▶️ Fanfiction- & imagine masterlist ▶️ Screenshot & lore masterlist ▶️ Reblog- & discussions masterlist ▶️ Patch 5 stuff masterlist

🔞 NSFW sub-blog

Raphael head mod and hair color sliders Outfit mod highlight (reblog)

🔊 Sound bite: Good night, little mouse 🔊 Sound bite: Raphael inviting you to dinner 🔊 Sound bite: Andrew about Raphael checking Tav out 📽️ A. Wincott Interview by Bflattned 📽️ Karlach-exclusive Raphael dialogue 1 📽️ Learning magic from the devil

Poll: Preferred "Raphael x ?" pairing

🔽 gif sets 🔽 Haarlep 🔽 other bg3 stuff (below the divider)

gif sets

I cannot die. Not here! For those who have walked through the fires of hell Out for vengeance Raphael, broken and bloodied Unhinged Durge Raphael (patch 5 epilogue) Death stares Raphael, after you gave him a peck on the cheek Raphael in bed, after you signed his contract Something wicket this way comes Raphael x Haarlep sfw gifs Beaten Raphael needs your help Nom nom nom Bring your devil to the circus Devil smoochies (Raphael x Haarlep) Sell your soul for a song (Raphael/Alfira) Raphael when presented with the crown Hubris: The Fallen Prince The evil steeple Touch the devil Raphael's hair blowing in the wind Raphael, thinking about you Cambion hugs (feat. @/mslanna) Raphael hugs (human Raphael) Hand gestures Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Little mouse (/w voice clip) Pain Bard Raphael composing a ballad (w/ Gortash) Smiling devil Taking a bath Raphael's ascension Underdog Raphael peeking A toast to the future archdevil supreme! Cuddles with the devil Slaughter the mouse Tie up the devil Sunrise Throat grab kiss Claim the devil The lick Moon remind me of your grace (Raphael/Alfira) Dance with the devil - Part 1 Dance with the devil - Part 2 Dance with the devil - Part 3 (The Kiss) Dance rolls (with poll) Bail out the devil He likes the sound of his own voice Trust me more Bridging the Styx Patch 6 Devil smoochies - Part 1 Patch 6 Devil smoochies - Part 2 Come, cheers (or turnip) I need to dance! Little mouse

Positive affirmations

@/cherriesandsulfur gif highlight

- Haarlep -

Haarlep 00 (infernal harness translation) Haarlep 01 (patch 4 tail animations!) Haarlep 02 (Lounging - the head mod is here!) Haarlep 03 (Haarlep in the sun...) Haarlep 04 (Looking at you seductively) Haarlep 05 (Looking at you seductively, animated!) Haarlep 06 (The Haarlep-slide) Haarlep 07 (The Haarlep-turn) Haarlep 08 (The Haarlep lick)

- Various other bg3 posts -

Marcus' wings Tav: Zachariah

Art highlight

Varvain & Raphael semi-sfw commission by @/bonesartblog Varvain & Raphael writing a song commission by @/bonesartblog He only sleeps with himself by @/bonesartblog Raphael portrait by @/morkorney Raphael's deal by @/calqmity Tickles cover by @/octarinecat

A list of Raphael bloggers of all kinds

Asks

Lazy search link

New avatar poll (closed. Results: Varvain)

#red dead sakharine #masterlist #index #gif set list #raphael the cambion #raphael baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 raphael #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #rds #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3

[not-poignant]

Hiii I just wanted to say that I found Palmarosa and the ex-Tav/Temter angle is FASCINATING and delicious for angst potential. The entire premise of this fic is incredible and I'm so so hyped, it's very up my alley, I am eagerly looking forward to future installments, thank you for writing iiiit

Thank youuuuu

I've actually been putting notes in my notes app on my phone about the five contract conditions that Astarion gets (and the 'quite a few' that Raphael rejects outright as a 'lmao no try again')

I've been enjoying it immensely. Also doing a lot more research so now I've got to go back and edit things like 'week' into 'tenday' lmao.

Also I have to say Astarion's 5 contract conditions/caveats are pretty good. You can tell this vampire has had way too long to experience all the things in life that he extremely hates.

One of Raphael's conditions on the contract is safeword limitation which I actually think is a really hot concept to play with. Astarion will only be allowed to use a safeword twice per tenday. In my notes I have this as dialogue: 'I do not trust you to not abuse the privilege of my good will.' Raphael's a bastard, love that for him.

There's one condition of Raphael's which, if broken, leads to immediate voiding of the contract and eternal damnation. It's not going to happen, but it does amuse me thinking about Raphael's motivations for putting it on the contract.

Evil devil contract conditions really say a lot about a person's greatest fears!

Anyway I've honestly been not writing much at all because I'm a lot closer to finishing my BG3 playthrough and frankly I actually want to finish it for research reasons lmao. But I expect I'll be writing a lot more soon!!

The next chapter will definitely be the drawing up of the contract, which I think is as close to kink negotiation as they're ever going to get sdalfkjdas and ironically they won't even be talking about a lot of the kinks, Astarion just really doesn't want to be put in certain situations and Raphael I think is mostly kind of like 'Cazador wasn't even creative.'

#asks and answers #palmarosa #thespectaclesofthor #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion #bg3 raphael #i'm going to go shower and then actually play bg3 #i did the save the gondians quest last night for like 2+ hours and failed right at the end #so it's attempt 2 today #and we'll see how that goes sdalfkjsad

[tavyliasin]

Forbidden Papers - Drabble~

A short Raphael/Haarlep warmup from earlier - not too spicy, but there might be a little hint of a callout to those of us who fill our pages with art and fiction of our beloved fiends~ It was meant to be shorter, but as often happens when I start writing dialogue for these two they just took over and I had 350 words in a 15 minute sprint (my average is 200-250 usually). So, some mild smut below the cut, and if you feel like continuing from where this leaves off please be my guest and reblog with your additions! (Also I forgot to mention, Raphael is in cambion form here, but is still just half an inch shorter than Haarlep because it's funnier that way~)

Raphael pushed his glasses back up his nose to meet the crinkle above the bridge that began at his brow. The pages before him were unceremoniously slammed back to the desk with a heavy sigh, his hand moving up in a vain attempt to iron out his frown. “Oh dear, Archduke, are mere mortal words enough to vex you now? Here I thought you ready to take over all nine hells, a rule that will last eternally under a tight fist.” The smirking incubus peered over his shoulder, snatching a page from the top of the stack before the cambion could relax. “Ah, well I see there certainly is something to do with a fist here~” “Do not try my patience, Harlot, you will find it thinner than your control over your libido.” Raphael gave up on that page, quickly dismissing the others to some unseen locked drawer with a swift wave of his hand. “I thought these were some of your contracts? You gave them the inspiration to write, to create art, and…” Haarlep stifled another laugh a little too slowly. “You have to let me meet some of these clients. They are quite fascinating~” The cambion seemed to have a change of heart about letting the mocking incubus keep even a single page, swiftly standing and turning to grab it from crimson fingers, knocking his chair to the floor in the process. Unfortunately for him, his reach was just a fraction too short as Haarlep held it aloft, their other hand coming to grip his chin. “Remember your place, Master. You are in your House, but my room.” Their talons dug in to his skin, blood pricking along his jawline. “I’ve been needing some new reading material, won’t you bring more back for me?~” Their tone changed from threatening to saccharine in an instant, not dissimilar to how Raphael’s own voice would switch around manipulations with his clients. “Absolutely not.” “I’ll make it worth your while~” They punctuated the promise with a kiss, quickly deepening it to catch his tongue before he could utter any further protest, delighting at how swiftly he began to soften as he gave in to the lust. Their grip on his chin eased to a caress, drifting up his cheek, coming to rest with their fingers entwined in his hair. A lie of affection that was not to last long. The grip tightened, pulling on his hair to drag greedy lips away from their kiss once more. “Now, bring me plenty more of this,” they waved the paper in the air above them, “or I will keep you from pleasure’s bliss until you do.” Raphael looked about to complain, the crinkle at the bridge of his nose returning…but he soon relented. Pages appeared in his hand with a curl of heatless flames. “Fail to satisfy me and you will get no more than this.” “Fail? Me?” Haarlep did not hold back their laugh this time, wings rising behind them as a silent threat. “You are simply adorable, Archduke. Now, I suggest you remove everything from that desk that you do not wish to be broken, then place yourself upon it.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #raphael x haarlep #bg3 haarlep #drabble #warmup drabble #short drabble #drabbles #please feel free to continue this and add to it!

[chaifootsteps]

Hello, 'tis I, SecretIdentity!Alastor Anon once more:

I didn't realize wendigo weren't closed culture, I was under the impression that they were, my bad, sorry; thanks for telling me. Anyways I agree that interpretations w/ them as spoopy monsters is pretty blargh & that my Secret-ID-AU!Alastor, even canon!Alastor, are as far from wendigo as can be lol.

And yes! I really like Peryton!Alastor as a concept (plus, bird AND deer behaviors! It's got the flavors built in! Either the SecretIdentity!Alastor's wings are too small to fly, or they were injured & rendered flightless some time ago (broken funny? Nerve damage? Amputee? haven't decided). He's been a lot of fights over the years, there's a toll taken there.

And I just had a thought, what if, Alastor's plan to ally with Charlie & support her hotel idea, was a survival-brain, seat of his pants idea? The most recent Cleanse had all of Hell in a huge serious of brawls, duels and turf wars right (tbh I have... issues with Sinners and the Cleanse itself only being confined to the Pride Ring but I haven't decided yet)? Set 'Day in the Life' Alastor comic but a little to the left slightly before the Cleanse, Alastor and Sheep Lady get caught outside during the Cleanse. Eventually leads to Alastor getting into a marathon of close calls both with Exterminator Angels AND Sinners afterwards, he's won in the sense that he's alive, and the Radio Demon's identity is still a mystery as well as his mythos uplifted further. By the start of the AU Pilot time post-Cleanse, all his usual hideyholes (Rosie? Who actually is an Overlord apparently?) are either too far or partially compromised (Vox bothering him, Alastor, as himself, a 'known associate' of the Radio Demon?), so he needs to buy himself some breathing room to recover and figure out his next moves. (Sheep Lady is alive somewhere but nowhere to be seen for now).

Alastor uses some magic he's got to make himself look unruffled/unhurt, can't show weakness after all, wounded prey animals get targeted first. He ends up ducking into the News Studio just in time to see Charlie's broadcast interview live.

Idk I just thought it would be kinda interesting if Alastor allied with Charlie because he was flying by the seat of his pants and too allergic to showing weakness (legitimate concern considering Hell's society) to try coming as a guest, because not only is that an affront to his pride but the lack of control would be scary probably, so he needs to pitch himself (and his true identity, but separately and somehow a reason to also be there bc that's the point but he can't let them know it's the point) as a valuable asset without looking weak. So he calls in a couple of those few ongoing contracts/favors that he's been holding onto for a while, Niffty and Husk, they're the... Safest choices, to contribute something to this allyship support deal he just pantsed himself into. He had a plan the whole time (no he didn't).

Instead of the pilot/ep1 ending with Sir Pentious just showing up, he doesn't, no big powerwank scene, just quiet scenes for each of what is probably going to be (most of?) the main cast ending their day, settling into the hotel. Also I feel that there was some missed opportunity in the pilot canon where Angel mentions that there's no food at the hotel, and Alastor offering to cook jambalaya for everybody (later if he has a more pressing injury to bother with in secret? Could even be a tidbit of Vaggie talking to Charlie about how Alastor [Radio Demon's ambassador] smells like blood, and if Alastor hears he wouldn't correct her) dialogue at the end can stay though, or it get picked up later.

Anyways, thanks for listening to my Alastor blether, I know he's just Viv's edgy karen-hair wasted potential OC but, man I enjoy redesign/rewriting him.

Thank you for sending in your ideas -- it's some truly excellent blether! Characters that are exceedingly powerful but also in survival mode always make for an interesting time.

(Incidentally, you've also got me really invested in the idea of Alastor with stubs of what used to be wings hidden under his clothes.)

#Anonymous #vivziepop mention #actual blog post

[shadoedseptmbr]

hiiiiii i come bearing asks:

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

39. Share a snippet from a WIP.

13. Always always read your dialogue aloud. makes sure it feels natural coming off the tongue, helps keep you in character, and it'll read better to your audience.

39. sure! Last chapter of pick me up pull me down is in the hopper

“She also encouraged me to get out of my room, once.  Talk to people.” “And you picked me to practice on?”  Alenko was skeptical. Good.  Thane spread his hands open, a gesture he'd seen Shepard use, the "we're all friends here" maneuver, she'd called it. “It was a good choice. Shepard draws interesting people into her orbit.  You are one of them.” In hospital, Alenko had seemed soft. Vulnerable. Thane couldn't help but be curious as to what would draw an oceanic force like Shepard to this...fragile shell. He had, himself, accepted that he was not capable of matching her. What made this man think he had the right.  "Thanks again. I think."  “It was my privilege.” Krios picked up his cup and took a sip of the faintly mint scented brew he’d ordered before he continued, information for information. “She helped me save my son, once- well...she stepped in to protect him from the path he’d foolishly chosen. I was glad to return the favor by watching over her...friend, since I am not able to join her in battle.” Something quite interesting happened, the jaw tightened just slightly and Thane picked up a faint hint of ionic charge in the air. “Can you….  Look, I don’t want to put you in a corner.  I’m just trying to reconcile the Shepard I knew with what happened last year.  Can you tell me...anything?” “When I met her on Illium, I used her to distract a target.” "You *used* Shepard?" Fascinating. He was very suddenly aware of being in the presence of power he'd not seen in Alenko before, the focus of dark brown eyes.  “She was...a very good distraction. My target assumed Shepard was the assassin, tearing through her guard and the tower like fire through dry tinder. It allowed me to quietly get into position. Shepard disturbed the peace enough that the target isolated herself away from a large part of her guard and I made my hit.” “And Shepard hired you?” Ah, a hint of resignation in Alenko’s voice- that this wasn’t as unusual a hiring practice as Thane had thought it, at the time. “We came to an agreement. I was not expecting to be able to work much longer and the Cerberus contract allowed me to choose an end. Or so I thought. I underestimated Shepard’s unique ability to survive unlikely scenarios.” Pain flashed across Alenko’s face like the green flash over a seaside sunset. “My apologies, I did not mean to bring up something that must have been very hard for you. I…before I came to the Normandy, I lost my wife…I cannot imagine what it would be like to have her returned to me. Changed.” He knew his voice had broken on the last word. He expected Alenko would attack him at the weakness.  Instead, the being across from him simply relaxed and rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, it’s a bitch of a situation.” 

#sept repiles

[unnuancedbookreviews]

All Systems Red

Author: Martha Wells

Series: Murderbot Diaries (#1)

My rating: 9/10 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Goodreads: 4.15/5

Date Read: Early 2022 and 2024

"I don't know what I want. I said that at some point, I think. But it isn't that, it's that I don't want anyone to tell me what I want or to make decisions for me." ---------------------------------

Plot Summary: On the surface, Muderbot is a SecUnit, a security android with no volition of it's own, sent to protect the humans that have bought a contract with the Company for a planetary expedition. Unbeknownst to its human client Murderbot has broken its governor module, giving it free will. Luckily for them all Murderbot wants to do is be left alone and watch trashy media shows. But when a mysterious force appears to threaten the safety of it's human charges, Murderbot must break its own rules to solve the mystery and save them all. Unfortunately, at the same time it must wrestle with the fact that it does in fact....have feelings. Yuck.

TL:DR: An incredibly fun, high energy science fiction novella. This book and the remaining in the series are the definition of comfort reads for me. The characters shine and Wells manages to create an in-depth scientific future in a short amount of time. If you're a fan of sarcastic, running internal dialogue of cynicism books with a lot of action this is definitely a book that you will want to check out.

Characters:

Murderbot - a SecUnit built for the sole purpose of protecting it's human clients. At. All. Costs. Including at times the cost of it's own life. This one however has broken from it's governor module giving it free will. It spends most of it's time hiding the fact that it's free by pretending to be a normal SecUnit while sneaking away to watch the human media show it is obsessed with and contemplating the ridiculousness of the humans it has to protect....and maybe care for a little bit.

Dr. Mensah - the leader of the Preservation Alliance and galactic entity that exists outside of the large Corporation Ring, Dr. Mensah is incredibly smart and is a trained scientist despite her current political position. She displays immense bravery in the face of danger and a strong moral compass that include human and bot life alike.

The Expedition Team - there are a ton of fantastic characters that accompany Dr. Mensah and Murderbot on this planet expedition. They're all scientists that have naive expectation of humanity thanks to the relative peace of their home system. They're all wonderful, but there's a lot of them so I won't list them here.

Thoughts and Feelings: This managed to become one of my favorite science fiction series in a single book. I fell in love with the sarcastic and cynical protagonist and the not too unbelievable future of a space community dictated almost entirely by captilistic companies that control everything. The writing style is very informal and defined almost entirely by Murderbot's internal dialogue which lends the book with a very unique tone and voice. Some people might not vibe with the method of storytelling or the constant running dialogue. I would say give this first book a try since it's a short read and if you don't enjoy it, the series as a whole is probably a pass because that is the style of all subsequent books.

Despite the prediction of the Corporate Rim's bleak existence this series manages to maintain a positive attitude as a whole as Murderbot begins to explore humanity and how it might survive the world as an individual rather than a background character. In this book in particular we get to know the positive and sometimes naive attitudes of the planetary expedition team that Murderbot is protecting. The group comes from a society outside of the Corporate Rim who have more individual freedoms and because of that represent the good that still exists in a sometimes dreary world. Good overcomes evil, but the evil still lurks around the corner.

#murderbot #murderbot diaries #all systems red #bookblr #book #book review #fiction #science fiction #martha wells

[omgkalyppso]

I've mentioned this before but here's screenshots and elaboration on a moment Étoile would have needed to isolate for peace of mind.

Étoile started their journey as a Neutral Good Oath of Devotion Paladin, at which time they said, and meant, that they wouldn't sign their soul away to a devil just for physical security in relation to the mindflayer parasite. By Act 3, their oath is broken, their alignment is in flux, and their patience with the dream visitor has worn more than thin. They felt they were being used through the parasite, as any actions they took, any thoughts they had, any motivations they pursued, had to run through the filter of an ever-present ... visitor.

Raphael offered them a way out of that, and to take the source of all their troubles off of the Material Plane. They felt zero concern at the time for how the wars in the Hells progressed, and well, I didn't have Gale or Karlach in the party so I the player didn't really have anyone immediately rejecting this proposal. To top it all off, Étoile vastly liked Lae'zel over the dream visitor.

But after Étoile signed Raphael's contract, and Astarion said:

When moments, hours before:

Étoile felt very isolated — and used, and stupid, and that's probably the biggest factor in regards to when Étoile might want to be alone to recenter: when they feel foolish or incapable of intellectually or emotionally dealing with a problem.

Contrary to the screenshot expression, I think as soon as the words "what should I care" passed Astarion's lips that he saw in Étoile's expression just how much of a wrong thing to say that was. If you talk to him immediately after this, he's back to his lovey-dovey, "Yes, my dear? What is it?" So canon expects me to blow past this which means I elaborate how I like.

Étoile was already made uncomfortable by some of the phrasing in Astarion's confession (if I'm keeping it as-is) in Act 2. They could see how centered they were becoming in Astarion's (otherwise) "independence" from Cazador and general perspectives of love and life, which would cause them to question whether Astarion recognizing that if their soul is fucked that it's none of his business - is a good thing. Meanwhile also they also felt betrayed, that they are "a team" when he needs their help, but that any problems they have are not his concern. Besides all that, after everything with Wyll and then Astarion's confession of initially setting out to use them ...

Étoile wouldn't have objected to a more boundaried agreement between them, and so to still feel used now with no guarantees or understanding between them ... and to not know whether it was something Astarion had meant to do or which was an accident of habit — because a single confession and apology is generally not enough to change one's nature / comportment / attitude they've kept for centuries— It would be hard for Étoile to rationalize a response to Astarion's assertion. They would want to be left alone to think.

It isn't the next long rest, but a few days later (after Wyll's pact is broken) that I have this blocked dialogue from Étoile to Astarion's response for how it could benefit Wyll:

Étoile: He's not ready for that. To hear it, I mean. If the Council accepts him, I'm sure Wyll would be very fit to rule. Astarion: You don't make that sound very complimentary? Étoile: I'm simply … soured. Astarion: From … from before? Darling, I— Étoile. I'm sorry. For what I said. I am … unaccustomed to offering comfort or kindness, to being needed, to even recognizing what that might look like. Étoile: It's not your fault. Will you feed on me tonight? Astarion: I was hoping you'd ask. Étoile: I've been thinking about it since earlier. I thought that, if I was disposable in other circumstances, at least I could be close to you in this. It's alright. Having choice means you get to choose how things end or evolve, and I just have apprehension about being a suboptimal choice. Astarion: I've told you that I never expected to choose you, to choose this, for myself. The risks you take? The way you care for others? You wouldn't have been my first choice. But… Now you are, and I don't only follow you because it's easy. I have no wish to discard you. I need you with me. Please, forgive me? Étoile: I forgave you even when I hadn't expected you to say all that. You need me with you? You need only ask.

This would only be the fourth time in my playthrough I had Astarion feed on Étoile and it was for this fucking roleplay reason. Astarion otherwise had to live on mouthfuls obtained in combat since that was enough to give him the Happy buff.

It was also the night Leon and Aurelia come to call. Which I think is hilarious.

Reassurance is a double sided sword.

Étoile would have let him kill his siblings, they would have trusted his judgment on that. But the number of spawn was too much for them to reconcile.

#long post #blood tw #oc tag: étoile #astarion #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

[adarlingwrites]

A Devilish Distraction

Summary:

Fortune needs an escape from the world's madness, and Raphael is more than happy to distract her.

Words: 2409

Relationships: Raphael x OC/Raphael x Tav

Date of Original Publication (AO3): January 21, 2023

Tags/Warnings: Adult content, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot (Okay there is a plot if you squint hard enough), Brat taming, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Begging, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Love/Hate, Master/Servant, Emotional Manipulation, Fluffy Ending (if you squint hard enough), Not Beta Read, One Shot

Author's Notes:

Something short and self-indulgent that I wrote in one sitting because *I* needed to get my mind off of things. Enjoy the filth!

Right, so, after some digging I managed to figure out who Raphael's voice actor is, and apparently, he narrates audiobooks. Lots of them, including game novels. The ending might've been a small nod to that, and my desire to hear him narrate old D&D novels and publications. The book in the end is from the first page of Cormyr: A Novel, seeing how Raphael's dialogue has references to it, hihi

Today, Raphael is taking things slow, befitting of a slow week.

Save for collecting from one client who was overdue his payment, there wasn’t much excitement during the day. Raphael went on to toy around with his lanceboard set, pondering moves the entire afternoon, then he went to have a light supper alone. It’s already several hours past sundown, and stars glitter in the black skies above. A brief look outside his window reminds the cambion of his favorite client… and favorite lover.

He takes a moment to remember the night they shared together- truly a delightful time he won’t forget any time soon.

The morning after that night of pleasure wasn’t so pleasant.

The tiefling was incensed to have found herself branded with hellfire, and tricked into a verbal contract. Raphael was intentionally vague when he goaded her into saying that she is his; it could mean several things. If it makes Fortune his servant, gives him access to her delightful body for all of his carnal needs, or if it gives him ownership of her soul… it all depends on interpretation, and it works in his favor as always.

Then, she ran off. It seems that the act hasn’t broken the contract, though.

Has she come to accept that she does belong to me now?

She’ll be back. Right?

Before he can lose his entire evening in either decadent fantasies or spiraling thoughts, he busies himself with a book to take his mind off of her.

Reading did work. Raphael found himself lost in the intricacies of the novel’s plot, engrossed and invested in the story, the memory of the tiefling woman pushed aside.

A knock interrupts Raphael’s reading. With slight annoyance, he calls out. “Yes?”

Korrilla answers. “Master, Miss Fortune is back.”

Raphael’s annoyance is swiftly replaced with smug satisfaction. “Ah, it was only a matter of time.”

“I have to warn you sir, she’s not in the best spirits.”

“I see she’s still upset about the contract.”

“That, I am unsure of. Perhaps it’s best that you see her for yourself, master.”

The devil raises an eyebrow. He places a bookmark between the pages and closes the book shut. He puts on his perfume, and straightens his jerkin on his way to meet his guest.

Raphael had expected to meet Fortune the way they parted: fuming, and spitting hellfire with that saucy mouth of hers. Instead, puffy eyes and a twitching mouth greet him. Fortune’s careworn features shift into a pathetic attempt to restrain the trepidation she no doubt feels right now.

“Ah, Fortune my dear girl, I knew you’d be back! A pleasant evening to you,” he greets her, arms extended and palms open. “What brings you back to the House of Hope? I take you’re still willing to uphold your end of the bargain?”

The tiefling’s posture is much more reserved, her arms around herself. “I wanted to be alone.”

Raphael chuckles. “You’re hardly alone with me, my dear.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need time away from my compatriots, else I might go mad.”

“The pressures of leadership getting to your head?”

“Look, don’t make me regret coming here. I just want a moment to myself, to get away from things, from the tadpole, from making sure Gale doesn’t blow up and leave a crater the size of a city, from making sure Shadowheart and Lae’zel doesn’t kill each other, from making sure Astarion keeps his hunger in check- “

“Ah, you don’t want to be alone then. You want a distraction.”

“I- well, fine, yes. And you’re the only one I can come to. You said you’d give me what I want and more, when you tricked me into agreeing to that verbal contract while we were… in the throes of passion.”

Both of them paused for a moment, remembering that night. Without saying another word, Raphael and Fortune’s bodies collided, their basest instincts inflamed. The devil laughs in amusement against the tiefling’s mouth as she hungrily sought him out, all her frustration going into the torrid lock of lips. Tongues dance, and the fires inside them burn brighter.

With ease, Raphael sweeps Fortune off her feet, and she wraps her legs around his waist. He carries her to his study, articles of clothing flying off as she practically tore them away from her body, and his. Raphael will need to send his doublet to a tailor to have the buttons mended, but he doesn’t care to think of it right now. Right now, this was just the excitement that he needed after that languid afternoon.

“You said I can have what my heart desires, right?” Fortune hisses as Raphael sets her on the desk, breathless. “Then fuck me hard. Hurt me. Make me forget my troubles.”

“Such coarse language,” Raphael teases, his mouth pressed against her cheek, near her ear. “If you want this, love, you have to ask nicer than that.”

“Bastard.”

“Is this how you address your master?” Raphael asks, pulling away and gripping Fortune by the jaw with his clawed hand. The gooseflesh rippling on her bare skin gives away that she’s enjoying it.

“I don’t have time for your games! I just need it raw and rough right now- “

“But I have plenty of time for them. Remember,” Raphael pauses to lean in close, and he growls into her ear.

“You’re mine. And what’s mine is something I will enjoy on my terms.”

Fiendish hands manhandle the rogue’s petite form, and Fortune finds her cheek pressed against the polished hardwood of Raphael’s desk. The same hands pull away at her smallclothes, leaving her bare. Cloth shifts from behind her, and her thighs rub together in anticipation.

With a few swift tugs, Raphael’s manhood grows into its full size, and he poises it just outside of Fortune’s entrance, already glistening with arousal.

“Beg for it,” Raphael demands, rubbing the head against her folds teasingly, intentionally avoiding the swelling bud of pleasurable nerves.

“Damn you,” Fortune snaps, trying to push herself against him, but a hand swiftly smacks her behind as discipline, then keeps her firm against the table.

“We can do this all night, sweet cherry. I can watch you squirm and cry underneath me as I leave you empty and wanting,” he casually teases, almost in a sing-song manner. Then, he presses chest against Fortune’s back, and one clawed hand snakes around her neck, nails digging into the thin, sensitive flesh.

Voice dropping to a growl, he commands. “Or, you could do as I say. Beg. For. It.”

With a defeated moan, Fortune obliges. “Raphael, fuck me.”

Another smack on her behind leaves her breathless and wailing.

“You can do better than that.”

“Raphael, please, I need you.”

Smack.

“Gods damn it I- Raphael please, I need you inside me.”

Smack.

“I need your cock inside me! Please, please, fuck me already- “

Smack.

“Raphael!”

Smack.

“Raphael, master, please, I need you, I need your cock- “

Raphael’s hand soothes the maroon marks blooming on her skin. “There, you’re learning,” he croons. Then, his voice is hard and stern again. “Beg harder, little brat. Show me how much you need me.”

Smack.

“Master! Please! I need you, I need you! You’re the only one I need!”

The tiefling babbled and whined until tears were streaming down her face, her derriere thoroughly abused by Raphael’s spanking. The sound of his palm hitting her flesh resounded in the study in conjunction with her pitiful cries. As he heard her sniffles, only then did Raphael relent.

“You speak like a beast in your master’s presence, then you shall be taken like one.”

Without giving her a moment to prepare, Raphael enters her. The pull her grip has on his skin despite her ample lubrication makes him hiss, and she cries out underneath him- in ecstasy or in pain, it did not matter.

The hard edges of the cambion’s hips snapped and slapped against the soft flesh as they rutted away, gruff moans and growls rumbling from his chest as he took her like a bitch in heat. Fortune is barely coherent as she surrenders to her master’s cruel, delightful ministrations, one hand going between her legs to desperately rub her neglected bud of nerves.

“Yes! Faster, harder, please master, I need it!”

From her hips, Raphael’s hands fly to his lover’s breasts, and he proceeds to toy with them, rolling her nipples, tugging at them, and cruelly squeezing enough to hurt. With his lips, Raphael begins to assault that spot between her neck and ear where he had branded her, and Fortune’s vocabulary ceases to exist. All that is left from her mouth are various sounds of strained pleasure.

Raphael is nothing short of amused at her reactions. Fortune looks up to him with a feverish grin. It only spurred him on.

“Oh my, you’re thoroughly enjoying this! You want this, Fortune? You love acting like a brat so you can have your bottom spanked and be at the mercy of your master?”

A wicked grin sweeps across the cambion’s face as she nods several times.

“You know just how to bring the beast out of a man, don’t you?”

Pushing the tiefling against the polished hardwood, Raphael angles his hips.

Raphael’s pace was already cruel. Now, it’s almost inhuman.

A scream ripping from her lungs, Fortune throws her head back, dark curls bouncing as she did. Raphael coils those around his free hand, pulling on her locks. The only word he could discern from her incoherent cries is a long, drawn out “Yes!”

“Then take it like a beast, take it, take it! Cheeky little brat, you came here just to feel me inside you again, didn’t you? You want my seed dripping down your thighs after I breed you, is that it? To be reduced to a squirming, quivering mess of a whore?”

Fortune nods several times, but the lack of a verbal response earns her a vicious tug on her locks.

“Yes! Master, please, breed me, I need you!”

“Then earn it,” Raphael grunts, the new angle of his hips hitting that spot inside of her that brings so much ecstasy and agony. Raphael pulls Fortune to his chest, and looks into the void of her eyes.

“Come for me.”

Raphael puts the command on repeat, voice gruff and strained from his own pleasure as he held off his own high until he gets exactly what he wanted from her. His knuckles are turning white as he gripped her hips, sweat drenching his body and mingling with his perfume. His hair, normally slicked back immaculately against his horned head, is tousled from their activities, and the look of agonized pleasure distorts his infernal features. Dark, heavy desire swirls in his hellfire eyes.

Seeing him like this sent Fortune over the edge.

Her long drawn out cry echoes in the study as her release seizes her. Her quivering flesh almost sends Raphael to his own release, but he holds back for a few more moments.

“Say that you love your master,” he groans into her ear, almost desperately. “Tell me you love me.”

Voice broken, Fortune whispers it like a shameful secret. “I love you.”

It’s just what Raphael needed.

The devil groans and roars as he spends himself inside his lover, and he reaches down to the bags of flesh that hung behind his length, squeezing himself as he emptied every last drop of his seed into her. Body slumping forward, he breathes heavily into Fortune’s skin, planting adoring kisses all over her cherry complexion. Both of them stayed like that for a moment, basking in the elated silence.

Raphael is the first to break it.

“I’ll have your chambers ready. I’ll be staying up to read tonight.”

After sending Fortune away and tending to himself, the devil sits in the armchair of his study once more, ready to continue where he left off. Peckish, he tucks into a late-night snack tray of bread, cheese, deli meats, and of course, cherries, alongside cognac for a nightcap, set up by Korrilla while he was cleaning up.

It wasn’t long until he heard another knock on his door.

Sighing, he just gave up on reading altogether. “Come in.”

It’s Fortune, looking drowsy, skin freshly scrubbed, and in her nightgown.

“Haven’t I… distracted you enough, my dear?”

“I actually came here to thank you for that.”

“Hmm. None needed. I’m just upholding my end of the bargain, sweet one.”

Wordlessly, Fortune toddles up to him, and curls up in his lap. She helps herself to the assortment of food on his table, feeling peckish from their activities too.

“You said you were reading,” she said after a few bites.

“Yes, darling. I was.”

“If it doesn’t trouble you, can you start from the beginning and read to me?”

Raphael chortles. “You want a bedtime story? I’m your lover, not your father.”

“You told me you’d give me anything I want...”

“Clever girl. I expected that you’ll milk our agreement for all its worth.”

“I could milk something else…” Fortune purrs, shifting her hips slightly to brush against his manhood.

“Such a tease… Insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only for you. But right now, I just want to hear your voice. Please?”

Fortune plants a row of sweet, chaste kisses along his jawline. Raphael doesn’t question it, nor does he stop her, but that unsettling feeling of foreign tenderness stirs in his chest once more.

The devil gives his clients material things, influence, and fiendish powers. He gives his mistresses petty trinkets, decadent dinners, and bouquets of flowers that will wilt in a few days. Raphael could provide it all… almost all.

Fortune was right in her doubt that he can give her what she really wanted. Had he known that little intimacies and stolen moments of tenderness are the things she craved deeply, he would have thought twice. He would have been more careful with his wording.

“I’ll give you the things you desire, and more.” What was I thinking? What if the girl asks for- Hells. This might be a contract I might have to render void later…

However, right now, he’s keeping true to his word.

And so, after taking a sip of his cognac, he picks up the book, and opens it on the first page.

“Prologue: The Dragon's Land. A Time Before the Years Were Named, -400 DR. Thauglor, King of the Forest Country, turned in a low, banking dive…”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 raphael #baldur's gate raphael #raphael baldur's gate #baldur's gate #OC: Fortune #fanfiction #raphael x oc #raphael x tav #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfic

[the-stray-storyteller]

Havenpoint

Warnings : Violence, language

Prev Chap Next Chap First Chap

Taglist : @anonymousfoz@holdmyteaplease (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Note : this chapter and any chapter after this hasn't been beta read or edited which means it will have shitty grammar, a lot of spelling errors, annoying dialogues and overall just be shitty. Also this chapter does not have much in it. It's pretty boring.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 11 : The Game Penelope Knight

My fist connected with Kaleb’s jaw before he could hit Aidene. He stumbled back groaning in pain, still recovering from the kick he had received. He threw me a dirty look while he swayed on his feet, dizzy. Both Aidene’s and Anne’s eyes were wide with surprise. I sent them the most warm smile I could conjure. 

I owed no loyalty to the duo but life was a game and I wanted to be the side that wins. Their side would win this battle. I would make sure that their side wins this battle. 

My father had been obsessed with chess for as long as I can remember. He had a fascination for that little horse-shaped piece on the board. I had thought it had something to do with our last name and I still thought the same. He could have been obsessed with mediaeval knights but he chose chess. 

He taught me that life was a game of chess. Me against everyone else. Every move, word, and emotion was a play, a strategy. 

Aidene and Anne needed to know I was on their side for now. They didn't need to know that I had three reasons to help them. None of the reasons had anything to do with friendship. 

The two minor reasons were that Kaleb had been annoying me for the past half an hour and I didn’t want to break whatever verbal contract I had signed with Aidene.

The major one was that Kaleb knew the purple-haired girl. Moreover, it seemed like he had some dirt on her. I could use that. If I was going to work with her I needed a failsafe for me. If they tried to stab me in the back I would have a gun with me. 

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled and jumped for me. To my surprise Valentina attacked. The word ‘attack’ would be generous. She had thrown herself on Kaleb causing both of them to stumble to the ground. He pushes Valentina off him and leaps towards Aidene who was standing right in front. He grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls it down. His hand keeps her from running away. Aidene doesn’t shout. Instead, she grinds her teeth together, her eyes tearing up.

Kaleb howled in pain. Anne had joined the fight, her fingernails dug into his face. She dragged them across leaving angry red marks in its wake. Kaleb let go of Aidene, bringing his hands up to his marred face.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” Anne growled out. Kaleb ran his fingers over the cuts.

The students around us started chanting. Phones held up to record. Bets were passed around, everybody took a side to cheer on. The adrenaline running through my veins was addictive. I turned around to see Aidene with her teeth bared out, her hands clawed, and a sharp glint in her eyes. She looked feral and I swear that I heard her growl. Anne had a deadly cold look on her face, a sharpness to her calm. Valentina had brought her fists up in a meek offensive pose. 

Penelope was certain Aidene would have attacked if it weren’t for the teacher.

“What is going on here?” The crowd dispersed at the sound of the teacher’s voice. Students scrambled to get out of sight. However, the five of us were stuck under her keen gaze.

“What is going on here?” She repeated, taking in Kaleb’s injured face. 

****

The room was filled with broken furniture. A dumpyard classroom. It was dusty and the lights flickered to stay on. My eyes scanned the other three girls I was thrown in here with. There was a boy with us. Roy, I think his name was. I had no idea where the teacher dragged Kaleb off to after we all blamed the situation on him.

Miss Danvers, the teacher, pressed her lips into a thin line kicking a leg of a broken chair out of her way. I swallowed thickly, this teacher was known to play favourites and I wasn’t on her good list. Her wrinkled features were set in a permanent scowl and her movements were stiff and accurate as she walked towards us.

“This place is to be our new chemistry lab,” the teacher swiped her finger over a dusty table observing the thick layer of dust, “ As detention the five of you will be coming here to clean this place up every day after school. Spend as much time as you want over here to do so.”

“For how long?” Groaned Valentina.

“Till the day when not a speck of dust lies in this room.” I suppressed a scoff at her dramatics. 

“What about Kaleb?” Aidene asked, her tone suspicious.

“He will be mowing the lawns by himself.” With that she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Why are you here? And who are you?” Aidene asked, sending Roy an inquisitive glance.

“Roy Robinson, I forgot to submit my homework for the third time this week. And you?” He said with a smile, he outstretched his hand for Aidene to shake. She ignored it.

“Can’t believe your name’s an alliteration,” she let out a small chuckle, “Aidene Rayners. Kicked somebody in the gut.” Roy gave her a nervous smile, settling himself down on an unstable chair.

“That lanky wonky chair won’t hold Robinson,” Aidene taunted. As if on cue the chair creaked loudly under Roy sending him scurrying and tripping. The purple-haired girl’s body shook with the struggle of holding her laugh in. 

I watched as Aidene struggled to get a hold of her laughter. Her eyes glistened with tears. Her laugh was fire-like. Destroying everything else and leaving only one burning feeling and presence. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Valentina joined in too and Roy let out nervous huffs of laughter looking at the chair with disdain. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Anne. Aidene’s eyes darted towards her, the laughter dying out of her awkwardly. Something had happened between them, I saved that information for later. 

“Let’s get started. The faster we get over with this, the better,” Rayners grabbed a broom and handed it over to Brookes, “You can start with that side darling.” She waved towards a particularly dusty patch of the room. Valentina walked over dejectedly and the rest of us started to sort through the furniture. 

I dusted in silence and I swear I could hear the walls of the school whisper to me. The whispers were soft and muttering. Against my better judgment, I listened to them. The world spiralled out of my mind. The screeching of the tables being pushed disappeared. The muttering grew louder drawing me in. I strained my ears to listen, to understand. The muttering seeped through the walls like water trickling through gaps, cold and unstoppable. I tried to make sense of them but they only became louder, demanding. They seemed like senseless words strung together, but they made sense somewhere in the back of my mind.

There was a commotion in the back, but it seemed like it was coming from underwater. It was muffled and distant. I was about to ignore it but Valentina grabbed my attention.

“Penelope!” She yelled into my ear making me flinch. I broke out of my reverie and glared back at her.  

“You okay?” Her dark onyx eyes stared at me with concern.

“Just zoned out.”  

I looked around. Aidene and Anne had retreated to a corner speaking in hushed urgent voices, their heads close together. Anne snapped back at Aidene who looked guilty but overjoyed. Roy was playing around with a broken chair leg. The room looked no different from when we started cleaning it but the sun had gone down and the sky had gone dark. How long was I trying to listen to the whispers?

“Okay, guys!” Aidene clapped her hands together as she walked towards us, “It's almost dinner and I genuinely cannot push any more tables.” I could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

“Valentina, Penelope,” she threw us a glare, “both of you were no help at all.”

“I helped!” Valentina protested. 

“You gave up after carrying one chair,” Roy muttered. Aidene raised her hands, silencing all of us. I narrowed my gaze at her. When did she become the leader? 

“Guys,” Aidene groaned, “Dinner. I am hungry.” Her mouth tilted into a sharp smile, stardust sparkling in her eyes. She was excited about something. Anne was still glaring. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, both of them were good opponents. This would be a fun game. 

#Havenpoint #my writing #writeblr

[pathologic-the-musical]

special little tumblr exclusive: I re-recorded Twyrine Dreams of an Architect. Should sound a bit better, since I used a better mic and also a better piano and a bench that doesn't creak (as much) and I wasn't in a college practice room with people practicing other instruments distantly in the neighboring practice rooms.

Lyrics and stage directions (same as version 1) plus the dialogue bits that I didn't record are under the cut.

[Directly following previous lively song in The Broken Heart Tavern, everyone exits the stage except for PETER STAMATIN, who is passed out with his head resting in his arms on a table, a few empty bottles of twyrine around his head and a few more by his feet. He was there the whole time in the background of the previous song, in shadow, such that you wouldn't have noticed him unless you knew what to look for. Enter MARK IMMORTELL with a broom in his hand, as though he's going to clean up. He sees Peter, stops, and puts down the broom. He looks directly at the audience and puts a finger to his lips.]

MARK IMMORTELL (spoken):

Shh! The architect is sleeping.

[He wanders over to PETER and studies him.]

IMMORTELL (sung):

Dreaming.

IMMORTELL (spoken):

Poor fool. What can a man dream of, whose own greatest accomplishment is behind him and beyond his reach? To build a miracle, only to have its glory veiled from even you … Poor fool, he built the Polyhedron too late.

IMMORTELL (sung):

What haunts the dreams of an architect?

Spiral stairs, curving walls and windows so much stronger than glass!

Dreams that flutter, shift, and do not fade;

contracts made

to last.

But who’s to say, who’s to say

what this man sees, anyway?

[The lighting in the bar changes, turning from the dim, warm lights of the tavern to wavering, cold blue, like light coming through water. The hazy shadow of the Polyhedron stretches across the stage.]

Another town, another tower,

blueprints folded into flowers,

wall-less houses, doorless rooms,

the marble nest above them looms.

No one else sees them, no one can;

the twyrine dreams of a broken man.

IMMORTELL (spoken over instrumental interlude):

Oh, Peter Stamatin; he is a genius. Designer of the Polyhedron – an impossible building, a soul-catcher spiraling up into the heavens! But only children can go inside. And, of course, he couldn’t have built it at all without Andrey. Poor Andrey, clinging to what’s left of his brother. They can’t live without each other, certainly; but dying is never out of the question.

[Lights go back to normal bar lighting. IMMORTELL turns aside, picks the broom back up, and begins to sweep. Enter ANDREY STAMATIN, looking around before seeing PETER and jogging over to him.]

ANDREY (spoken):

Peter! Peter, wake up. Come on, old boy, pull yourself together.

[PETER does not respond as ANDREY shakes him lightly, and ANDREY sits heavily beside him.]

ANDREY (sung):

What do you dream of, now, brother?

Do you still remember chasing the fever of creation? Is the drinking to stop yourself from thinking-

yes, that’s how

you get to heaven.

But who can say? There’s no way

I could join you there, anyway.

[Lights change again.]

Half-built designs and impossible plans,

madness that pierces blighted lands.

Whether it’s genius, whether it’s plague,

I know I have no other way.

Just write out the blueprints, and I can build,

I’ll make sure our dream’s fulfilled!

[As they harmonize, the shadow of the Polyhedron stretches larger and larger. Andrey stretches his hand out towards its source; Peter is blanketed in the shadow.]

ANDREY AND IMMORTELL:

A hall of giants, a breathing house,

a mansion that’s turned inside-out.

The twyrine flips him upside-down,

but the Polyhedron turns us ’round.

No one else sees them, no one can;

the twyrine dreams… of a broken man.

[At the last line, PETER stirs, waking slowly, and ANDREY pulls him to his feet, leading him off stage. Lights down.]

#pathologic musical #pathologic the musical #pathologic