#thesis is chaotic evil

[mytortoisegotstuckinatupperware]

#jokes on you #im being held hostage #the thesis would take me out back #and put a bullet in my brain #thesis is chaotic evil #humor #shitpost #lol #pls help #jokes #but I defend in a week #a sword?? #help #grad school #gradblr #graduation #academics

[lesbianphan]

speaking of allignment charts: I truly think the phandom is chaotic good as a whole. Cause we can do amazing things like that bday livestream, we can get together and do things that are so kind like every year there's the phandom gives stuff and it's so awesome?? but at the same time we are chaotic little freaks, we will meme stuff to death, we will be SO ANNOYING and 'lol random xD' to this day. I think this is essence of being a Dan and Phil audience member that is impossible to replicate. It's us <3

#phandom #phan #dan and phil #dnp #dapg #dnpg #I rewatched the video and they almost called us chaotic evil but we aren't we also aren't neutral at all #I think at our core our intentions are very good but we're all so chaotic about it #probs because they also are tbf #idk if people agree but that's my thesis lol

[charmwasjess]

25 for Sifo, please 😁

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Oh Ingata, you've unknowingly asked me to present my thesis on my favorite topic and I love you for it. (Okay, this could have been a two sentence answer, but it's me.) So I wrote you an essay on Sifo-Dyas, but I'm putting it below a cut to save everyone from my rambles on Sifo in the old EU and the greater meaning of his doom-ass storyline.

Apparently, I once casually mused to readalong back in the day (exactly how long ago? No need to worry about that!) that Sifo-Dyas must have been a pretty nice guy, what with him putting up with Dooku all those years. Oh sweet summer child. If only I knew then how long I would spend thinking about this idiot and their dynamic.

Back then, he was on my mind simply because of Dooku. In Luceno’s Labyrinth of Evil, Yoda takes some time to describe in length Dooku and Sifo-Dyas’s close friendship, “bound by the unifying Force,” and speculates what Sifo-Dyas knew about the lead-up to Dooku’s fall. That he was desperately worried about Dooku, that he thought Qui-Gon’s death was a breaking point for him, that Dooku might have been actively hunting down his killer's Master to fuck shit up, and this was about to be A Big Problem for Everyone. 

All of this was very interesting, especially back then, when Dooku was not a popular character and depictions of him having meaningful, positive connections in the Jedi Order were few and far between. I want to be careful here, because I’m not calling the EU/Legends bad - Dark Rendezvous has some of the most beautiful Dooku character work I’ve ever read. But compare, say, Jude Watson’s Qui-Gon in Legends Legacy of the Jedi outright calling Dooku “too cold to love,” as a Master, versus examples from new canon, where Dooku repeatedly and effusively praises his Padawans, casts their relationship as mutually loving, and even offers to get drunk and cry it out over Rael’s dead Padawan. Those present really different pictures. So Sifo-Dyas stood out to me right off the bat as unusual for being close with Dooku: a meaningful connection for a character who, at that point, didn't have meaningful connections. 

As for my impressions now, I think I have a soft spot in general for characters who seem to exist simply to die in a tragic, unescapable way, sacrificed to the narrative or for other character’s growth. In a way, Sifo-Dyas’s story is still certainly both of those.

But he’s so much more. He walks into Dooku: Jedi Lost as this vivid, funny, weird, fearless, chaotic good goofball of a character. Sith Dooku is breathlessly, affectionately describing him to Asajj Ventress (of all people) within the first few seconds of his own life story. That's crazy?! "I was born, I went to the Temple, oh, I MET THIS INCREDIBLE PERSON." Sifo-Dyas's first scene in the damn book is to make a silly little song about Dooku’s name and then telling him to "tell it to your face"?! And we’re not supposed to love him?!

I could go on. But here’s the heart of it for me with the character. The penultimate scene in Dooku: Jedi Lost, comes when he and Dooku are estranged, having been for years over what seems implied as a breakdown over an escalating series of visions that cast Dooku at the center of a world-shattering conflict. Yet, when Dooku comes to Sifo-Dyas for help, one last desperate get-the-gang-back-together, he won’t deny him. When Dooku suggests what Sifo-Dyas literally describes as “insane, the worst plan I’ve ever heard” (I’m quoting directly here), his answer is, again, directly quoting: “I’m in.” He never stopped saying that to Dooku. For all their ultimate ruin, it's sort of beautiful.

That’s the impression that stands out the most strongly - not tragic doom or narrative foil - but the aspects of bravery and loyalty to the character. Someone who would have spent his whole life having visions about someone ending the world, and still show up for that person, and later, still come to them with their own problems. It seems very, very likely - he outright says it during a vision in the cursed book – that he knows Dooku is the person who will make all the futures converge into the one terrible timeline. But EVEN THEN, Sifo-Dyas would rather bring hundreds of thousands of lives into existence than take out Dooku. And whether you read that as friendship or something more, at the end of the day, it’s love.

#Of course this is all based on my reading of the supplemental canon and others might have different readings #And I’m not arguing that the clones were a great idea either #But it’s like Sifo-Dyas got told you have to go back in time and kill Hilter but guess what Hilter is your best friend #and he’s like no I’ll do some batshit crazy third thing because I’m the embodiment of living chaos #sifo dyas #star wars meta #dooku jedi lost

[ugh-yoongi]

favorite kpop group(s): tag game edition

tysm for tagging me @highvern, @cordiallyfuturedwight, & @hvseoks!

who is your favorite k-pop group?

bts, ateez, seventeen, the boyz

which member sparked your interest first?

bts: i'm pretty sure it was taegi? my best friend texted me this thesis-length primer and all i could remember later on were the ones named suga and v, lol.

ateez: mingi

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: kevin

who was your first bias?

bts: seokjin

ateez: mingi

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: kevin

who is your current bias?

bts: seokjin

ateez: seonghwa

seventeen: jeonghan

the boyz: younghoon

what makes them your current bias?

seokjin: just my number one boy. my comfort human. someone who is kind and takes care of others, who always tries his best and perseveres, who will be the first one to make a fool of himself to lighten the mood and make others more comfortable.

seonghwa: a lot??? like seokjin??? just a sweetheart. makes his little animal crossing sounds. isn't afraid to be himself. takes care of his members. insane duality.

jeonghan: chaotic. a schemer. makes his own rules and follows those instead. but also very sweet and subdued. takes care of his members.

younghoon: i honestly do not know how this happened. i went into watching content a staunch kevin bias and now i'm not. idk. maybe when i re-watched kingdom and he got in the water tank with sunwoo because he was scared. bee will say it's bc he's a leo.

who is your bias wrecker?

bts: yoongi; namjoon & hobi

ateez: hongjoong & mingi

seventeen: seungcheol, jun, & seungkwan

the boyz: kevin, chanhee, changmin, juhak

which members are you currently obsessing over that aren't your bias/bias wrecker?

bts: jungkook

ateez: yeosang

seventeen: mingyu

the boyz: sangyeon

when did you first discover this group?

bts: 2017. my best friend was into them first and sent me the mic drop mv. texted me the aforementioned primer. i kept up with them since then but didn't know kpop was... like this? like, the entire culture. was very unaware and thought it was just kinda like western groups.

ateez: 2019

seventeen: 2021

the boyz: 2021. it was either getting into them or seventeen and i went down the seventeen route first.

have you ever been to one of their concerts?

bts: twice as a group and d-day tour twice

ateez: three times

seventeen: twice

the boyz: no

what are some of your favorite songs by the group?

bts: best of me, blood sweat & tears, save me, ugh!, heartbeat, spine breaker, intro: never mind, intro: what am i to you, all of the cyphers, all of jin's solos, mikrokosmos, black swan, 2nd grade, the stars, spring day, autumn leaves, love maze, louder than bombs, 21st century girl, war of hormone. idk they have a massive discography how do you choose????

ateez: still here, twilight, say my name, hala hala, utopia, wave, wonderland, mist, answer, thanxx, fever, the leaders, take me home, dreamers, deja vu, turbulence, the real, don't stop, the king, cyberpunk, guerrilla, halazia, duna, matz, django

seventeen: fear, lie again, light a flame, super, i don't understand but i luv u, monster, lilili yabbay, trauma, highlight, march, ash, cheers, fallin' flower, don't wanna cry, my i, our dawn is hotter than day, good to me, getting closer, anyone, gam3 bo1, to you, run to you, 24h, a-teen

the boyz: ego, crying&laughter, no air, whiplash, b.o.y, bump & love, roar, breaking dawn, lip sync, eyes on me, d.d.d, drink it, echo, scar, 4ever, russian roulette, shine shine, tattoo, c.o.d.e, kiss me if you can, closer, levitating

no pressure tags: @the-boy-meets-evil @hot-soop @effortandmore @moni-logues @tbzhub & anyone else who wants to! do it and say i tagged ya :)

#this was rly fun! #i loved reading everyone's answers #good luck jess with your 500 biases #tag game

[dothwrites]

funeralia remains one of my favorite episodes for several reasons. one of which is that rowena flirts with cas who has a polite gay panic at the thought of being flirted with by an attractive woman. (but you can tell that he's definitely pleased by the attention) cas' "you NEVER go to parties" to sam is funny because it either implies that he definitely DOES go to parties and is shaming sam for not doing the same. or cas just DOESN'T go to parties and is STILL shaming sam for not going to parties. either way, it's cas being a bitch to sam, which is my favorite thing in the world

and then rowena's dance scene! ruth is KILLING IT and i love the idea that rowena just has her muscle boy to travel everywhere with her

"i'm gonna get a beer. you want a beer" "no" "i'll get beer" and then he gets cas a beer. and cas DRINKS the beer. peak husband behavior. i will never cease loving them. dean's "just don't get dead again" sounds (and comes off) like a very brusque dismissal but it reveals his VERY REAL fear that cas is going to die. the widower arc lives on because cas has never been that very obviously dead before. dean's still a little traumatized from it and he continuously implores cas not to do anything stupid etc. and to cas it sounds like dean just doesn't trust him or thinks less of him, but it's dean's way of pleading with him: don't die. i can't do that again

i love jessica the reaper. she's so perky!

dean is so proud of his shelf in death's library. and he should be! he's the specialest boy!

I love this conversation between naomi and cas. they're SO passive aggressive. well. cas is aggressive. naomi is just that horrible mother who is NEVER going to give you the validation that you want. naomi calmly nodding while cas lists out her crimes is PEAK BITCH behavior and i love her for it. "i'm sorry goes a long way" and then naomi just nods. UNREPENTANT QUEEN i love you for your many war crimes. they really did drop the "heaven is powering down" storyline didn't they? i think they mention it a handful of times in s14, but then... nothing! they sent dean winchester to a heaven that's powering down!

rowena's redemption arc was handled pretty well. she goes from completely chaotic evil to chaotic good and it's believable every step of the way. this scene, where rowena acknowledges that she was never going to kill sam and that she's changed... I JUST REALLY LOVE ROWENA OKAY

i'm fairly ambivalent on billie as a character (though i do LOVE her as death) but lisa absolutely KILLS this scene. she somehow manages to perfectly combine compassion with brutality and the end result is GORGEOUS. "sometimes life is unfair" and everything that follows is a masterful treatise on the nature of grief and how to deal with it and it came from thee supernatural. supernatural is a SHOW! "everything ends" otherwise known as the thesis for this show

THIS EPISODE! THIS EPISODE!

#doth watches spn

[jarognieva]

45, 41, 35, 28 and 23 for Micolash :>

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

I don't know if this counts as "psyche". But. I think I was inspired by his confidence. It's not that I'm not afraid of doing inhuman experiments now XD But you know. He's crazy and he doesn't hide it. He just do what he wants!

Also his character and his actions once again made me think almost philosophically about good and evil, the value of human life and whether "the end justifies the means". I am very curious how his sect functioned. Did a common goal drive them to do cruel things or is it just human nature?

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

I don't think so... I'm too shy to engage in discussions with complete strangers. Sometimes I would really like to do it, but my nature usually tells me to avoid it ;_;

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

Oh I can't count how many times! Unfortunately I don't write my thoughts anywhere and I forget them :c My thoughts are so quick and chaotic that I don't know how to put them into words...

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

The second option! I really enjoy seeing him with Edgar or Damian (but not only them of course!). I'm not even thinking about self-insert; I feel like I'm too cringe and not worthy - you know, low self-esteem etc, heh. Only one exception - when you draw me on your drawing for my birthday ♥️ It was so adorable! ♥️

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

I'm not sure if I properly understood the question but I try to answer lol. So. I have my own interpretation of this character but I'm very careful with making one clear thesis in the case of media such as Bloodborne. So I prefer to make questions without one "proper" answer.

I often wonder what prompted his fixation on Kos and ascension. Did he want to surpass others? Because he DEFINITELY didn't care about the evolution of all humanity. Simple curiosity? Or maybe he wanted to abandon a completely rotten humanity for which there is no future. I like to think it's mostly (but not only) the latter option. Yharnam didn't rot overnight. The entire society was corrupt, from those in power to the poorest. He figured he had nothing to lose.

As for my interpretation of this character - I still understand his curiosity, his desire to achieve his goal no matter what. it's really tempting to find out how it is to exist as higher being! Oh and by the way, I love the fact that he's probably the only character who actually has a good time xD (I had lucid dreams and I know it would be awesome to have own wonderful nightmare with your magic tricks and own skeletons!)

(Link for ask game here)

#bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #micolash host of the nightmare #ask game #sry for so chaotic (and late) answer ;-;

[fluffy-papaya]

legit tho, i think scar's fatal flaw is that he. okay stay with me here i will explain this in a sec but i think scar's fatal flaw is that he trusts too easily

because scar is. okay claps hands. scar is a lawful neutral. this is so much more interesting than so many people think because okay. 

 essentially — lawful, in dnd terms, has never meant ‘follows the law.’ it can certainly mean that for some characters, if that’s their personal law, but lawful just means a set of rules that the character has decided to follow. laws of society, laws of personal nature, all lawful means is a set of rules that is followed. this is very commonly misconstrued in the case of lawful good and lawful neutral. lawful means 'follows a set of rules,' not 'follows THE set of rules.'

 let’s say a character leaves a bag of gold on the shelf everytime they go to the market. a lawful good character would leave that bag of gold because they believe it is the right thing to do, even if it goes against greater societal rules. a chaotic good character would leave that bag of gold because it goes against the greater set of societal rules. they’re both doing this for a good reason, it is just how they feel personally connected that defines their alignment. morality determined the good to evil scale, and connection determined the lawful to chaotic scale.

scar’s connection to his alignment is his connection (or lack thereof) to people.

scar. scar right. he's a heart on his sleeve, trusts too easily guy, because he genuinely believes people will always want to help him, or that he's in the right. flowers, friendship passes, the fact that he thought his creeper explosion was an accident. but, because he's following this own set of rules he made up for himself, no one can trust him in return. no one gets the rules when they play scar's game, so no one wants to trust what he's selling, and its so interesting, because scar is a guy with genuinely good intentions, but no one believes him. he's kinda like impulses* anti-thesis or something.

*(impulse's anti-thesis in the fact in that they share the same character (good intentions, no one trusts them) but get played entirely differently)

#goodtimeswithscar #3rd life smp #3lsmp #thanks rob for asking for fatal flaws and getting two whole paragraphs in return <3

[obscureaestheticist]

Dark Con & Succession War Characters as Players & GMs

Ging: Derailing god. Knows a pirating / rom site for everything. Adores Pathfinder and 3.5e but runs games as if Tomb of Horrors was just easy mode. Pariston: "It's what my character would do :)" Lamentations enthusiast. Leorio [current arc]: Channels the power of thesis block to destroy hordes of bandits. Cheadle: Strategic player who looks on in despair at their chaotic and extremely violent comrades. T-T Mizaistom: T-posing human fighter that somehow keeps pulling off the most significant moments in the campaign. Beyond: That one tiktok friend who cosplays as their character for each session and runs campaigns like theatrical wrestling performances. That vocal training has gotta be used for something! Muherr: Army vet, seen a lotta stuff, but runs the most heartfelt and hopeful campaigns you'll ever play. 7th Sea Gm. Steiner: Sweetest guy you know, writes the most terrifying mysteries ever. Pure unfiltered neurosis expressed through Call of Cthulhu and World of Darkness. Kurapika [current arc]: 3rd life-changing trauma this week "Sure! I can make it for Friday!" Melody: In it for the deep pan crispy lore. Makes the maps out of love. Can't play an evil character the save their life. Has mountains of Solo-RPG journals of wonderous adventures. Hanzo: Falls into the habit of down-to-Earth friendly characters that sling death threats and "comedic violence" at everyone to the point of awkwardness. Shall avenge every minor NPC the gm forgot to name. Basho: Doesn't own a single rpg book that doesn't also double as an art book. Bill: "That game from Stranger Things?" Theta: Evokes awe from fellow players for her RP skills. Greater knowledge of in-game politics than the actual DM. One Ring and Game of Thrones RPG enjoyer. Tserriednich: Tonight's Session - The GMs Barely-Disguised Fetish ... Kult & Drakar och Demoner for life. Benjamin: WILL apply real military strategies to your game regardless of setting and character. YES! He will bring diagrams! YES! You should be concerned! Twilight: 2000 nut. Zhang Lei: Chill. Enjoying the vibes. Simply awaiting the fruition of his diabolical schemes to spring into action... Once every other player is done with their wacky flumph hijinks. Camilla: Dungeon Bitches & Mork Borg. Throwing hands. Fuck everything else. Fireball isn't enough. Stay away from the loot. Halkenburg: Heart of gold, but tries waaaaay too hard to help the fantasy world he's meant to just be smacking trolls around in. Kacho & Fugetsu: Supports queer indie ttrpgs and are currently trying to figure out where to store all the gigabytes of pdfs. Hinrigh: "Yes, this is a rip off of all my favorite anime characters and I love them :D" Zakuro: Too shy to speak up, didn't realize they missed 5 turns. Lynch: Screw politeness, fists are all you need to ask questions. Morena: The "Nice Girl" Oito: "I just hope the game contains no foul language. Do we need a console?" Woble: The group mascot

#spoilers #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh headcanons #headcanon #help i've been rewatching the whole series #succession war arc #dark continent arc #kurapika #terror sandwich #tserriednich #hinrigh #leorio #ging hxh #pariston hxh #cheadle yorkshire #mizaistom #kacho hui guo rou #fugetsu hui guo rou #hxh spoilers

[langdhon]

*kicks open the door* i've said it before and i'll say it again: your michael is actually stinky and needs a bath in some holy water.

No but seriously, you've taken this rather static character ( i say static loosely simply because of the ahs writers inability to give depth ) and turned him into this dynamic thing that has these different facets in his life. he doesn't treat everyone the same. you highlight certain points of his character that are defining and core elements to his person and you stay consistent with those specific points while still showing his capacity for change ( to a point. he's the antichrist. his end goal doesnt change )

WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. the fact that you explain how that end goal remains his purpose rather than just slapping it down as "well.. he's the antichrist" no. you point out his beliefs and how they align with that goal while also making this conclusion separate from his father. he comes to that decision on his own and you don't shy away from that.

I love the work you've put into michael and how you've really claimed him as your own. <3 I could go on and on about all the things I love about your portrayal because there is SO MUCH but I gotta limit myself or else I'll be writing a ten page thesis on my love for Ava's Michael Langdon

||| beep beep, how's my portrayal?

ANDY PLS I'M GONNA SCREAM— you shower me with so much validation and now another whole wall of text I'm-! All the things you say there, I can't stop nodding while reading because it's all just what I want to put out there. Yes, he is what he is and always will be. No, he's not immutable because he lives and everything that lives, even hecking plants, changes throughout life. While I believe the core stays the same in most of us. Plus, in various scripts the antichrist as a concept has so much range; he's not the pure evil figure who goes around only doing the worst shit. Is why I hc he's on the chaotic neutral side with a chaotic evil tendency as he gets older. He's meant to be relatable to some degree, to lure certain people in on his side while still being an incarnation of chaos and destruction/new creation. The whole point of his existence is to get people to embrace their nature. What I love about the season's writing is how he cries a lot, but you can see that many times it's not genuine. But lots of fans obv. fell for the manipulation.

I want to shine a light on more sides of his person, but never let people forget that he is still That Bitch. Michael did horrible things and he is not sorry for 9/10 because it's his nature and he has the power to act beyond human standards, so he does. He's an asshole but he can be the a super fun guy too. Charming, mean, hilarious, scary, understanding, challenging. Chaos. It makes me so effing happy to read that you just... you GET how I want my portrayal to be perceived !!

And yes, it's important to me that he'll have his own reasoning while accepting his purpose— a first hand motivator behind the purpose which, broken record alert, he could've ditched with all the power at his disposal. But the world is fucked and he has the chance to get it fuckeder [ha, new word] in a way he likes and everything except the VIP lounge has to go. Renovation purposes. I do adhere to canon with his og timeline, yes, but as you said, the writing was lacking. I think it has to do with how they had to focus on Michael finding his path and getting to the whole apocalypse plan, because if they'd focused on his life beside that? It'd have gotten another season lol. Anyway, working with bare bones gives me all the freedom to do with him what I want, development wise. NOW I RAMBLED I'm sorry but everything you said there just hits home for me. I'm incredibly honored you think so. 😭

tl;dr you're correct, he's a stinky who needs to bathe in holy water while every now and then, he has a point

#SAVED. #now I sob myself to sleep bye #positivity #ravenskeeper

[emberkeelty]

Continued from this.

The Earthshakers call the Fatebinder a follower of the Scarlet Chorus. At this point, she can't even argue.

Instead, she just keeps spiraling!

Hey, remember how she went through all that trouble to spare your worthless life? Yeah, she really doesn't know why she bothered! You know what will definitely make her feel better? Killing things!

How much time did any of this even buy her?

Really? You're surprised she needs a drink?

Lantry was two-timing his guild on orders from Nerat for decades. No wonder he's always on so many drugs now, after that all blew up in his face.

This isn't fun anymore.

TGEK's LP describes the Chorus route as being a story about the folly of thinking evil means can be used to achieve anything but evil ends. That's accurate enough for a one-liner summary, I think, but what I'm getting out of this is something a lot less... dualistic. After all, the rebel path still sees you using some evil means, albeit less than usual, and if you play your cards right there you can achieve ends that are, if not unambiguously good, at least pretty clearly better than the alternatives. For a time, anyway. But that's another point where I differ from TGEK, and that's a whole separate thesis.

More to the point... what exactly does it mean when I say that the Scarlet Chorus is evil? That sounds like a stupid question, I know. Their atrocities aren't hard to list, since they keep them on full display. Just on the face of it, they are obvious, almost generic Chaotic Evil. But that's exactly the trap! Compared to the Disfavored, they seem honest about what they are, and in a way, that can be freeing. "This is war. Try to enjoy it," as Verse says. Besides, many of their more obvious transgressive tendencies are things that a certain kind of person might find outright appealing.

But there's a deeper darkness that, as usual, traces all the way up to Kyros. There's a reason Nerat is a many-faced monster of flames and voices, and as with all Archons, the reason for his existence impacts everything he touches. When he says that he's loyal, not only does he mean it, but he means something very specific by it. Like Bleden Mark and unlike Tunon or Graven Ashe, he knows exactly what Kyros really is. Unlike Mark, he's fully committed anyway. Kyros doesn't stand for anything at all beyond her own power, so true loyalty doesn't mean following her laws or fighting for her glory, but rather being subsumed by her every whim. As below, so above. Nerat's own soul got eaten a long time ago.

Most everyone has something they hold sacred, something that it would shatter them to violate. Sure, the specific thing that broke Nerat was a violent betrayal of his blood family, but that's just flavor. Verse loved her Fury sisters and is a wreck about what she did to them. Fireweed was fiercely proud of her connection to the Beast tribes, and now she's gone and used it as a profane bargaining chip. The Chorus will get you where you live. Like Kyros herself--the truth of her that Nerat sees--it demands nothing less than complete self-annihilation.

In the end, Fireweed does more or less get what she wanted.

And yet, it kind of feels like a farce. A bad parody.

Really? That's the word you're going with?

It... could be worse. Quite a lot worse. She did what she could, right? And who's to say there was ever a chance it could have been any better?

(There was. She missed it two years ago, back during the conquest, when she was pettily abusing her power as a Fatebinder to work out her grudge against the Disfavored. She murdered the Queen of Apex because the Chorus thought it would be funny and the Disfavored were against it. The transgressions that don't matter to you can still alienate you enough to bind you into committing the ones that do.)

#tyranny

[grayintogreen]

For the OC ask game: Ashley!

✏️ PENCIL

❇️ SPARKLE

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

Ashley in true pretentious bastard fashion was very much created from me being exposed to a lethal amount of Brennan and having recently remembered the Harry Lime Monologue, which is the thesis statement of his character.

For those who haven’t watched The Third Man, I’m referring to what’s basically a third of Orson Welles’ screentime but this quote in particular:

“Don't be so gloomy. After all, it's not that awful. Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock. So long, Holly.”

This is how I justify a lawful evil paladin following a chaotic evil god- Ashley believes that chaos breeds beauty while also believing that when the world becomes too corrupt it has to be wiped clean.

❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?

As a nepo baby pretending at being poor on purpose, Ashley doesn’t have a lot of material possessions he values, but he does prize the Blade of Broken Mirrors. He killed a lot of family to get that.

OC ASK GAME.

#my asks #ask game #life in the margins of the redemption

[madamhatter]

having to handle unruly child servants or chaotic evil servants

send  me  this  or  that  questions  for  my  muse  / accepting. make  them  funny,  make  them  personal,  make  them  embarrassing.  anything  that  you  want,  just  make  them  choose!

With great hesitance, Sophie stares down at the folded piece of paper. She presses it between her thumb and index finger, careful not to crimp it. Lighter than a feather was that paper in her hands, but her body stiffened, locked to place like Atlas bearing the heavens on his shoulders.

A simple game is near-lethal to Sophie; disclosing personal opinion, no less partaking in vulnerability stretches thin her defenses. Brave is the face she places on, trying her most damn not to squirm at the thought.

Whoever convinced her to be in this position must have some unnaturally powerful gift.

Taking one deep breath, Sophie unfolds the paper. Her eyes narrow, scanning over the scrawled writing. The very question that will unhinge or hinge her composure is….!

Her brows crease. 'This question makes it sound like one is less hassle than the other.' 

"Well, this is certainly a way to start this," sighs Sophie.

"One may see that the child servants option is better than the chaotic evil servants," expresses Sophie with her hands flat and pulled away, adding visuals. "However," her hand close in distance," the reality is that these options aren't exclusive," she emphasizes as her palms then touch and clasp together.

"If I decide to spend even more time with the children, something I have already done outside of Chaldea, that doesn't exclude the avatars of destruction, madness enablers, and mass-murderers in the lot like Jack the Ripper and Van Gogh, to provide some examples."

"Despite mentioning my experience and the alignment's reputation, the Servants that are Chaotic Evil are much more manageable," she nods. 

"I apologize if that is any offense to them and the madness-inducing ways. They are much more forward in their intentions and personalities, leaving little room for any miscommunication and lack of clarity."

"In the work environment, they are wonderful. It is when personal space is involved that may bring some conflict. But, we are all working here as terminal coworkers until," she waves her wrist, "we resolve all of this."

"Meanwhile, while the child servants are the most eager to help, I admit that same curiosity that wants them to come to understand things can be quite distracting." She sighs. "Voyager and Taisui decided to spend a scouting trip mission exploring the 'fun sand' that ended up being a pond of quicksand that almost swallowed us whole after I had to jump in to save them-" 

Sophie stops speaking in a moment, glancing to the side. Despite the near-death memory, she isn't that distraught by the image. Instead, her mind seems to overwork in thinking about the topic.

'The child servants already have an advantage over me. Even I get distracted from my work and contribute to the trouble if they know how to twist my arm. Do they even need to twist it to get my help? I practically keel over like a weak-willed person with a brain of pudding if their happiness is on the line.' 

The seamstress shakes her head.

"To conclude, I would rather handle the Chaotic Evil servants because of our circumstances."

Sophie Hatter manages to grasp the game, but it seems that she feels it appropriate to provide thesis's length of a defense for her option.

#( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks ) #( verse: night air ; silver traces ; boundless breadth ; betwixt self and unknown ) #[ tysm for the ask!! :D ]

[babylonianx]

"In the beginning is a thesis statement, which can be paraphrased, here's is the story of God's creation of the Heavens & The Earth. The focus is on the creation of the material world -- The Heavens & The Earth. God: This standard Hebrew term of diety, Elohim, is in the form called the plural of majesty or the plural of intensity. In the contrast to the ordinary plural (gods) the plural means "the fully of diety" or God - Very God" Even though the word for God is plural, the verb was created is singular. It means "to fashion anew". This oft-used word in the Bible always had God as its subject. Here it means that God renewed what was in a chaotic state. God changed choas into cosmos, disorder into order, emptiness into fullness. The Heavens & The Earth mean, all the creation or the cosmos. The two words without form.... void express on concept - choas. The Earth had been reduced to this state it was not the way God had created it darkness is the pontent biblical symbol of evil & wrong. The deep is a term for the secret places of the waters, this term sounds enough like the name of the Babylonianxo goddess tiamat To remind the ancient of the babylonianxo story of creation to which the story stands in dramatic contrast. All these images together potray choas, disaster & devastation. Form the portrait of utter ruin, God brought an orderly creation. The Spirit hovering like a mother stork might hover her nest - a portent of life to come from the dark. Murky depths of the choas below (the spirit is described as a dove in Matt) 3:16

[whoknowsyourfuture]

So, Just Saw the new Indiana Jones Movie

For spoiler free-

It was a fun movie, had some good callbacks. Much more action than I remembered the other movies having, but I haven't watched them in a while, so grain of salt with that. There wasn't a lot of character building or b-plots, but again I haven't watched the previous ones in a while, so. Spoilers and discussion under the readmore!

Ok, so immediately, I'm not super psyched with the intro. As the movie is written, it's somewhat necessary to get a background, but I think there were ways to get around having to introduce entirely new friends and enemies. Literally just make Indy have had an oops baby with one of his previous love interests, or, in the case of Elsa from the Last Crusade, a kid with his dad. Does that make sense with the timeline? Who knows. Or, because I love Ke Huy Quan, bring him/his kid into it for the inciting incident. There are tons of ways to have used extant characters and avoid the uncanny valley Young!Indy. As it is, the plot we got is Fine, I Guess. Very much 'bad guys have this so we got to get to the next place before them' but surprise! They managed to catch up without knowing where Indy and Co. are going in an unlikely quick fashion. Like yeah, they're going west instead of east in the Mediterranean, but there's a whole lot of west that they might have gone to and the bad guys were in a little boat🙃.

Also, this movie felt a lot more brutal. Pretty much all of Indy's friends who helped in this movie ended up shot, and a lot of innocent bystanders, even when the Nazis are still pretending to go along with the CIA, which. Given this movie takes place in 1969...😬 Yeah, I'm not considering them the good guys either. Which brings me in to how they did Mason dirty, y'know, the only WOC in the cast. Obviously the main thing is they just offed her, which, Nazis. So, technically makes sense, but given the turmoil of the time in the setting there could have been so much more done with the character. Because as it is, she's kind of ineffective. She doesn't tip the rest of the bad guys off to where Helena went, but she's still going along with everything even after they've killed innocent bystanders! I don't expect CIA to care, but if you're going to go that route, either make her properly evil, given she would have been recruited to infiltrate black rights organizations (which her actor even brought up according to Wikipedia), or make her have a crisis of faith in the CIA and give her something to do except die! She's one of like 5 POC with substantial lines in the movie, if we exclude Helena's mob BF, and the only woman! There was so much potential! And that's not the way I would even fix her character. I'd have her be Indy's TA, be sus of Helena and her whole thing bc she's heard Indy's stories and go 'someome you have history with shows up trying to find a mystical artifact with ties to the Nazis!?!?! You're getting in trouble and I'm not grading your finals alone!' Literally nothing else in the movie really has to change, although I would just to make a proper b plot. And so she doesn't die, bc this is the happy version. Since it seems like they're trying to set Helena up as the next Indy, it would have been cool if there was a duo with the two of them, his goddaughter and his student, or, given that Helena is kind of chaotic neutral to evil, they could have played off against each other and had a cat and mouse thing. And kiss

So, yeah, mostly just griping about how the characters could be more interesting - wait I forgot, when Indy wanted to stay in Greece it would have been way more impactful to have someone he properly knew going why the fuck do you want to stay? Mason the TA going 'you're coming back for your students mfer, that's who! I still need you to sign off on my thesis!'

Anyways, it was a fun movie, just go in with lower expectations than the first three. Hope Mads is having fun with his villain era, it was cool to see some of the previous cast come back even if they murdered them 😒 I do have to admit I like the horse scene even though it's less than believable. There's some cool Easter eggs with history and the earlier movies, and I fully expect them to make the next one about the lance of Longinus.

#indiana jones and the dial of destiny #indiana jones 5 #indiana jones 5 spoilers #indiana jones dod spoilers #hope those cover it #not that i get into anything that would ruin the movie really #except the last bit i guess a tad

[wendimydarling]

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj​ and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira​ for betaing! 

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death. 

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.” 

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already. 

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet. 

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me. 

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls. 

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker fan fiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fan fic #august walker smut #vampire!august #non-con tw

[citizen-zero]

Thinking about how the Minotaur was considered a monster because of ancient Greek ideas about human superiority over beasts, so anything that was half human but half beast was either a monster (and thus evil/chaotic) or else depicted as less refined or savage (like satyrs or centaurs).

And look at how mortals are punished in the most commonly told versions of the myths. Medusa was given snake hair. Atalanta and her husband were made into lions. Artemis turned a man into a stag and had him killed by his own dogs. Io was turned into a cow. Minos was given donkey ears. So on and so forth. So there’s a clear trend here where becoming more animalistic is a bad thing and a sign that someone has fucked up. I think the only instances where animalistic traits are shown positively or neutrally are when it’s the gods doing it—like Zeus becoming a swan or a bull. Notice how these are beautiful or sacred animals.

Anyway, it’s interesting to contrast that with ideas about the Minotaur I’ve seen lately with the popularity of Hades. I think it’s interesting that a modern audience looks at him the way we look at anyone else—as someone shaped by their circumstances and not by any inherent qualities. Like, what would he have been if he’d been raised like any other son and/or not confined to the darkness of the maze? What if he hadn’t been treated like a monster from the outset?

I think it’s very interesting seeing how views on a mythical figure can change over millennia and I think it’s interesting that like…it’s likely not a totally new phenomenon, but we’re seeing more retellings of old myths that take a fully and unabashedly sympathetic view of old monsters and villains. It’s like the story of Medusa—I’m sure sympathetic versions of the story existed in the ancient past, but the most common telling is ultimately still the misogynistic, demonizing one.

Also the fact that more people are openly monsterfuckers these days and it’s not seen as a huge taboo and allegory for people’s repressed horniness like it used to be. Although tbh I think sympathetic views came first, because from what I’ve seen it’s often (not always but often) not just about fucking the monster but also like having a committed and loving relationship with the monster. Liking the monster for their personality and not just the dick/pussy/etc

God now I really wanna deep dive research this because this feels like a thesis topic and I think it’d be really good

#personal #erika's blog and bar #greek mythology