#<< tagging for people who want sort of an update i guess

[iridescentpull]

In a more positive side / update, some of the ccs Mike teamed up with on the Hormigeo event showed their support to him!! [Context here]

Tweets under cut:

Team Mariwanos (TiroLoco and Tia Ren):

Nana:

Obsession:

Aldo (event organizer):

[On Aldo, he was the one who was nearby when the yesterdays situation happened. The moment he heard what happened, he pulled the clip to see with his own eyes and he was the one who decided to ban the guy straight away instead of going through the administration. Aldo has part to blame for this situation, since he invited the guys, but he did his best to navigate it correctly. Thank you Aldo, mi patrón 🫂]

[Clip if you wanna see]

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[caffichai]

Food Bank Fundraiser

Hi everyone!

First of all, I want to say thanks to everyone who's been leaving such nice tags/comments on stuff I've posted! It's been really encouraging (o^▽^o)

Anyway, I think we all know it's very dark days on the economic front for many of us. So as such, I'd like to help raise some funds for Food Banks Canada! In exchange for you making a donation to the food bank, I will draw a character suggestion!

I know this is not really the sort of thing I normally do or post here but... many folks are struggling to put food on the table right now, and the food bank is a source of support for many and provides an absolute necessity. I've seen many people struggling in my own city, and food security has become an even bigger issue than it already was in the last couple of years with the food bank struggling to keep up with demand. Of course, food security is an issue across the whole country that's putting a huge strain on food banks, with nearly 5% of the entire population making use of food banks monthly, and 23% of the population reporting food insecurity (CBC, 2024; Global News, 2024). Unsurprisingly, those who are already most disadvantaged suffer the effects of food scarcity even more (Statistics Canada, 2023). To make matters more desperate, Canada's food bank system is on the brink of collapse (CTV News, 2024).

I know this isn't going to something big enough to change the world or anything, but being able to make even a small impact for individual people is important too!

✨Incentives✨

Of course, I'm sure people aren't just in it for a reward, but rewards make things all the sweeter, right?

For those who want to contribute, I'll take a character suggestion and add it to a poll (depending on the number of contributors, it may be split up into multiple polls), and then I'll draw as many as I can from top to bottom ranking! If you contribute, please send me a DM with your donation receipt and your character idea! They won't necessarily all be drawn in the same style, and they'll be done according to how much time I've got. (I know that commissions are probably the biggest incentive, but realistically, I struggle to get them done quickly and they're probably not that affordable to everyone)

If you prefer SFW or NSFW, you can let me know (But NSFW will be posted to Cohost). If you make a bigger contribution, I'll reach out to you and ask if you wanna see more specifics/details in your piece. How's that for sweetening the pie? :3

For those who can't make a donation (which is completely understandable), simply spreading the post is also helpful, and I appreciate that greatly as well!

Don't forget that giving a donation allows you to get a tax break based on the amount donated as well!

Alternatives?

If you'd rather donate to your own local food bank, that's great too! You can DM me and send me a pic of your receipt and I'll still add your suggestion to the poll.

If you REALLY want a commission, you can also DM me and I'll do my best to fulfil it! I won't be taking commissions for this till/if there's at least a couple of items on the poll though. The proceeds will go to my own local food bank. The commission will be done later though, and may take some time to fulfil. I take payment only after starting.

When do we start??

I guess once there's a good number of poll options? I have no idea how long that will be, but rest assured I'll keep you updated!

Where do we contribute?

You can make your donation to Food Banks Canada! They really need it!

Alternatively, you can make a donation to your local food bank or equivalent charity.

Other Questions?

Feel free to send me a message or an ask! I'll get back to you ASAP. If I need to include more details or clarify something, let me know! It's my first time doing this!

TL;DR

I want to help raise money for food banks! Anyone who contributes to Food Banks Canada (or donates to their own local food bank or equivalent charity) can DM me with their receipt and give a character to add to the poll. Poll characters will be drawn in order of their ranking, as many as I can manage, over as long a period of time as I can manage!

No pressure to donate of course, I just figured this would be a fun way of raising a bit of money to help out, and allow us to donate more than what I personally can

Current Contributor Count: 13

Suggested Characters:

Imagine your beloved, obscure or popular character here on this poll list! Oooooooh, how lucrative :3

Total funds raised:

780.36$!!!

[luna-loveboop]

Wait...

It's November. It's November first. Yesterday was October 31st, so October is over. ...it's over. Is it over?

Inktober, artober, whumptober, flufftober, linktober, every tag ending with -tober that's been circulating for the past month... is it over? I don't know why it's just hit me but...

This matters. So I will try to get the message across, even though I'm not the best at it sometimes

Fanartists, fan writers, artists, fic writers, people making comics, every single one of you that has created art for the past month...

Thank you

This is my first October on tumblr. When I started seeing the "tober" tags, seeing the posts from artists with wips, saying they were going to make something every day to a prompt, making masterposts to update with each day, I thought "cool"

But every day this month, I have gotten on here and smiled.

And I don't mean smiled. I mean I smiled at least 20 times every time I got on the app because I saw all the art and fics. I got to see artists/writers connect stories through different day prompts. I saw people having the most brilliant ideas and creativity, flowing from their hands into their posts. I saw artists responding to continuous asks, telling them how amazing they are. I saw artists getting behind, and keeping going.

I saw Free. Beautiful. Emotional. Amazing. Original. Creative. Art.

Every day

I haven't committed to anything of this before, so I can't directly relate to what you guys were thinking and feeling. But I'm willing to guess; I think you probably enjoyed it, because most won't do such a huge project unless they enjoy it. I think you probably saw it as a challenge you were willing to fulfill, and an opportunity to grow and develop your skills.

... but I'm also willing to bet you did it for us. For people like me, who love art, but don't do this specific type, who are in fandoms, who love tracking and watching you art and sending you compliments, who take joy in your work. For the other artists (and writers!) who admire each others styles and love to learn from each other.

If anyone ever tries to tell me that humans are inherently evil again, I will strap them to a chair, pull up these posts and say look. Look at what these people did. Look me in the eyes and tell me these sorts of actions don't come from the most loving hearts. Tell me these people don't want to make others happy, that they aren't inherently good. And I will tell you you're wrong.

I have so much going on, yet somehow it slipped into my life that I was constantly looking at your art for the joy of it without me even noticing.

And how is it possible. That we have such a beautiful community of people here that we will share. And communicate. And exchange compliments. And literally do things and send asks solely for the purpose of making someone smile.

I'm almost crying by now. God I can't express it well enough! But I am so. So. Grateful

You guys brought me a month of joy! You gave headcanons, and art, and stories!

Even yesterday, Halloween, I was blown away. Because I had expected... I didn't expect anything. And then I log on and see people sending happy halloween asks, exchanging doodles of candy, and headcanons and gifs.

And some are still catching up to the schedule or whatever, and that's ok! But at the beginning of this post, when I was simply realizing it was November, I asked myself "is it over?"

Is it over?

... I don't think so. I've seen artists say they're going to continue and expand on a piece they made and especially liked this month. Some people are still continuing, catching up to a voluntary deadline. All those masterposts with your whump/fluff/link/ink tober art? I know many as well as myself will be going through, looking over your posts with smiles, catching up on some things they missed this month... it will continue in the people and artists I didn't know existed before, but now follow. In the skills and growth in creativity! In the community we've grown, and art you've made, and the art to come, at a normal rate like every other month, even if it's not October anymore!

But my artists, writers... thank you so much. I don't know if you guys know how valuable and amazing you are. How incredible it is that you exist! People say it's amazing we exist under a sky of such stars, but how incredible is it that you made a stranger on the internet smile every day! Your life is so. So. Valuable. I can't even express how grateful I am that you exist, that you somehow are selfless enough to share the most beautiful parts of yourself simply to create, and to create joy. Thank you so so much.

(And this applies to all artists, in any fandoms, not just mine. And I'm just as grateful to people who couldn't do something every day, or only one day! You still share your art, you're just as... incredible. You are incredible.)

Okay.

So I'm gonna do this, and if others want to do it in the reblogs that's great! I do not care at all about reblogging or likes, but I want to make the people that have brought me such joy some appreciation- I hope I can bring you even a smidgen of the light you have brought into my life. So I'm gonna tag all the artists/writers I know of/can think of that have done any sort of October challenge, all of you creators that have made me smile. If people wanna want to tag others in the reblogs or replies to spread love that's cool.

(Basically I don't know social customs or anything at all, so if you don't want me to tag or if I was supposed to do something different or something let me know I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)(if I like accidentally tagged someone who isn't an artist/writer or forgot someone I follow... sorry)

@skyward-floored @kikker-oma @adrift-in-thyme @blueskittlesart @zeldaseyebrows @smilesrobotlover @bahbahhh @soso-dedeck @lennsart @arecaceae175 @illcamp @breannasfluff @solarfire-art @26kabeuchi @cathianemelian @truffeart @scribbly-z-raid @uniquevoidflowers

To all the artists and writers out there: thank you so much!!! You are amazing and I'm glad you exist. Your life is precious, and you matter. Thank you so much for sharing your beauty with us, we love you too!!!!!

... yeah. Just want yall to feel loved... because you are. Again, thank you. Thank you so so much to my beautiful creators who create joy as well as art, who keep storytelling alive. Just... thank you.

:)

[nanamiscocksleeve]

CLOSED! Happy (early) holidays everyone!

I can't believe we're in November already! Thanksgiving is around the corner and Christmas is coming up next month! Made me really get into a festive mood.

In the spirit of sharing and giving, I'd like to introduce an online Secret Santa of sorts.

Please read the how to enter section before requesting.

Fic list

Info:

The event works the way a typical Secret Santa would. Each person participating will be writing one fic, but it will be for another person. I'm thinking 500 words minimum, no upper cap.

There will be a list that keeps track of who is joining. Each person that asks to join will give a brief description about the fic they want written (more info below)

People entering must be willing to write. You can't ask for a fic if you don't want to write one in return.

All genres are welcome, does not have to include smut if you don't want to.

Fandoms - Jujutsu Kaisen and Love and Deepspace

How to enter/Deadlines:

Inbox or DM me saying you want to participate with a brief description of the story you'd like written. For example, a message to me would look like "Hey Ray, I want to take part in the Secret Santa. My fandom is JJK and I'd like it to feature Nanami. Maybe some cute fluffy romance between him and reader." OR "Hi Ray, I want to join Secret Santa. I'd like Xavier from LADS, with some angst or a slow burn. Smut is ok but no rough sex."

Once you inbox or DM I'll update a list with your story description.

The last date to ask to join is November 25th. This is because I need a final head count for participants to match up a secret Santa to everyone.

Once this deadline is reached, I'll run all the participants through a random generator which will match up who gets who. I'll obviously be matching up participants based on the fandoms asked.

I will reach out to each of you separately to tell you who you're writing for. Check the list for the story description.

Obviously, do not tell the person that you're writing for them until you're ready to post.

When posting your fic, use the hashtag "ncs secret santa" and "merry ficmas" and tag me as well as the person you wrote the fic for.

The deadline for the fic to be published is December 25th (gasp! Christmas? Who would have guessed?)

If you are unable to partcipate, please let me know immediately so that I can update the list because I don't want someone to not get a fic.

Are you participating too Ray? Yes I am!

Merry Ficmas! Have fun ya'll!

dividers by @/ cafekitsune

@hesperisms @sassypossum @lazyjellyfish300

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 10

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: the best way to spend you Tuesdays is pissed at an old man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sleep for a few minutes here and there. The rushing traffic, the motion of the car, and the general unease of your circumstance wakes you several times over until you give up. You recognise the highway signs and sit up, rubbing your temples as you try to focus your vision. 

You gulp as you contemplate what’s ahead. You peek over at the man next to you. How do you explain this? 

You mull it over as you peer through the windshield and daze out at the license plate ahead of you. Kara isn’t easy to lie to and you’re a horrible liar. You don’t lie, you just don’t always tell her everything. You sigh and Andy shifts in his seat. 

“You alright, sweetie?” He asks, “we’re almost there. Can stretch our legs soon.” 

“She can’t know,” you say abruptly. 

He winces and shakes his head, “what do you mean?” 

“Kara. She can’t know... you’re a lawyer. My grandmother knows you. Or you’re an old friend of my parents. You’re doing me favour but in front of her we’re not... not...” you struggle to push the truth through your tight throat, “together.” 

“Right, makes sense.” 

“You’re getting her off the hook. That’s all she needs to know.” 

“Got it,” he replies crisply. 

You close your eyes and cringe. You shake your head. This is humiliating. You’re negotiating with him for your own pride. You can’t imagine telling Kara everything. You know that creep I told you about, he owns me now. Ugh. The thought makes you want to hurl. 

“I understand, sweetie, you gotta ease into this. I think it’s better we keep it on the down low anyway,” he speaks over the steering wheel. ‘Down low’, is he trying to be hip? “Wouldn’t be very ethical for me to represent your friend based on our relationship so...” 

“Yeah,” you mutter. Ethical.

It’s more than that. It’s that you would have to say it all out loud. That you would have to admit that you are nothing. That even though you want desperately to say no, to tell him to go away, that you did over and over, that you have no ground to stand on. The only person that wants you in this world is him and that’s just pathetic. 

“How about once we have everything sorted, you spend the day with her? Catch up with your friend? I’ll be at the hotel, give you some space to get your head on,” he offers gently, as if he’s doing a favour. In his eyes, everything he does is generous. “I mean, who knows the next time you’ll get to see her.” 

That last part hits you like a kick in the stomach. Will you see her again after you go off with this man? You still don’t understand what’s in his head. What exactly does he have planned? Are you going to be his plaything? His dirty little secret? He’s an attorney, rather famous by Google’s metric, so can he really be flaunting around with a woman half his age? Less. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you agree flatly and cross your arms. 

Your stomach lets out a long growl, filling the silence. You turn your face to the window, embarrassed. He chuckles and reaches over you pet your arm. 

“Hungry? Me too,” he goads. 

“I’m fine,” you insist and lean away from him. 

He puts his hand back on the wheel and switches lanes as you approach your exit. He sighs and merges onto the ramp. You grit your teeth to keep from screaming. He knows you don’t want this but he continues to pretend like it’s so normal. You don’t know if he’s gaslighting you or if he’s actually delusional. 

“How about you and Kara go get lunch? I’ll venmo you some money and--” 

“Jesus Christ!” You throw your hands up, “I get it! I get it! You’re such a good guy and I’m the poor fucking girl who can’t take care of herself, but goddamnit Andy, let me think. I still have a fucking brain.” 

He sucks in sharply through his nostrils and juts out his chin. The quick glance of his profile startles you. His anger ripples hotly in the air and makes you shiver. Why did you say that? 

“I’ve already told you not to talk like that. Profanity isn’t cute,” he snips as he grips the wheel tighter, his knuckles paling. “I know you have a brain, sweetie. That’s why I like you. You’re smart.” He takes measured breaths as you hear the tenuous control in his timbre, “I’m not trying to control you, I’m trying to help. I think I’m being pretty nice. Hm. I could just drag you back onto the road without stopping, couldn’t I?” 

You look down at your lap and squirm. Something flickers inside of you. A memory itches in your head. Another car ride, another angry man, telling you what he’s done for you, telling you he’s done giving and not getting. Your cheeks pinch with the threat of tears. 

“Sorry, dad,” you choke out. 

“What?” He hisses and nearly swerves. 

“Andy,” you cough and sit up straight, “sorry, I was mumbling. I’m sorry. Alright. I’m stressed and I haven’t slept.” You shake as you make yourself say what he wants to hear. “I know you’ve done a lot for me and I’m not... I’m not good enough. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Alright? I’m sorry. I just--” You swallow and roll your eyes up, “I’m sorry.” 

He lets the silence hang over you. He slows as he joins the local traffic. You recognise the streets. You’re reminded of the convention and how it all turned sour. All because of him. It feels like a rotten sort of irony that you’re back there together. 

“Sweetie, we’re both exhausted and it’s been such a long road,” he says quietly, “I forgive you but you need to watch your mouth. It’s not pretty when you talk like that.” 

You flinch. What the fuck? You try not to let the frown break through and flare your nostrils. 

“I’ll do better,” you utter. 

“I know you will,” he declares victoriously, “you’re a good girl, sweetie.” 

You don’t say much else. As he pulls up to the station, you mentally prepare yourself. You wish you could tell Kara everything. She was always the best shoulder to lean on but you know that’s too dangerous. She would flip out. You can imagine her confronting Andy and getting herself right back into trouble. No, this is your problem. 

“Might take a while,” Andy warns as he gets out. He opens the back door and takes out his jacket. As he pulls it on, there’s a marked change. The full suit completes that attorney picture. “Did you wanna come in? You’ll have to wait in the lobby.” 

“That’s fine,” you shrug. You’re restless. You just want Kara out and safe. “Are you sure you can fix this?” 

“Trust me, honey. I do this stuff all the time. Bonds and whatnot. I know what I’m doing,” he assures you. Oh, he definitely is all too aware of what he’s doing. 

“Alright.” 

“This shouldn’t be too hard. First offense, young, hanging out with the wrong guy,” he checks his beard in the side mirror, “easy.” 

The way he talks to lightly about the situation makes you sick. Does he think so little of other people and their lives? Is that why he just demolished yours? You nod and look away. 

“Okay, let’s just do it then.” 

You follow him past the police cruisers and to the front door of the precinct. He enters with confidence, holding the door for you. He points you to the chairs along the wall and promises he won’t be long. You sit and watch him, arms crossed as he marches briskly up to the front desk, shielded by panels of plexi-glass. 

“Andy Barber,” he says as he gets his wallet out, “my client is here. She’s asked for her right to an attorney...” 

You shrink in the chair. You are small compared to him. Look at how sure he is. Of everything. Of himself. He has had a lifetime whereas yours is already over. You barely keep from breaking right there. You could just keel over and dissolve into a puddle of self-pity. 

Andy’s led behind the heavy metal door to the left of the desk and you turn your attention to the wall. You drift into a mindless trance. You don’t want to think. The time ticks by as you lean back, your head against the cold brick. 

The ambient noise of the station buzzes around you and fades into the background. The ceiling turns fuzzy in your vision and your body detaches from your mind. You just sit there, waiting. 

Your name carries across the lobby and you snap up, nearly tipping yourself out of the anchored chair. You stand up as Kara runs across the tiles and throws her arms around you. Andy walks calmly behind her, keeping a good breadth between them. 

“Oh my god! You saved me,” she releases you, her eyes tired and swollen. She’s still in her pajamas. You can only think of the chaos that consumed her the last day; of how frightened she must have been. “How?” 

“Uh...” you look at Andy then at Kara. “Family friend. I was so worried, Kara.” 

“You were? I was,” she squeals, “I can’t believe...” she stops herself and spins around, “Mr. Barber, thank you.” She scurries over to him and shakes his hand, “thank you so much.” 

“Well, you know, I owed her grandma a favour,” he smiles. 

“I know but... oh, I’m just happy to be out.” 

“Nothing at all,” he assures and sends you a smug smile. “Unfortunately, I do have to get back to my other clients, so...” he checks his watch. The way he plays his role so smoothly unsettles you. “You two have a good day. You got my number if you need anything else.” 

He struts off and you stand in uncertainty. Shit. You need to come up with a story. Ugh. Your purse buzzes as Kara turns to you and you reach into it. ‘Andy Barber has sent you money.’ Fucker. 

You exhale and do your best to smile, “crazy...” 

“Oh my god, you have no idea. It was so cold in there. They took my shoes!” She looks down at her fluffy slides, “or slippers.” 

“Jesus, Kara, that must’ve been so scary.” 

“Yeah, it was. I didn’t think... I... I can’t believe did all this.” 

“Er,” you glance over at the officers behind the counter, “let’s get out of here.” 

“Happily,” she agrees and skips past you to the door. 

As you come outside, she sighs and stretches her arms above her, “wait, how did you even get here?” 

“Andy drove me... but I have a bus ticket for the way back. Tonight.” 

The lies are too easy. You hate that. You don’t want to lie for him. 

“He’s so nice,” she says, “wow, I... I’m just still so fucked up about this.” 

“What about Calvin?” 

“Oh, he got out last night. His parents. Loaded,” she sniffs, “left me in there all by myself.” 

“Oh, Kar--” 

“Whatever,” she snarls, “I’m about done with him anyways.” You plod along, aimless as you follow her lead. “Wait, alright, wait,” she snaps her fingers, “girl, you never told me what happened with that guy.” 

You’re speechless. You don’t know what to say. Fuck. 

“The catfish? Some old creeper? Ew. Nasty.” 

“Right,” you murmur and clear your throat, “you know, I blocked him. Told him to get fucked.” That’s true, you did, it just didn’t work. “Ugh, the magic of technology, huh?” 

“Sure,” she says, “some men are so nasty. Most of them, I swear.” She huffs and yawns as she checks her phone. It’s all she has on her. “We can catch a bus on the next block. Oof, fuck Calvin, I’m getting me a sugar daddy. I can’t do this shit no more.” 

“Kara,” you groan. 

“What? Men don’t give a fuck. If I’m gonna get anything out of them, may as well be money,” she scoffs. 

“Kara,” you repeat as your stomach churns. You need to explain things, not the real things, but you need to give her a good story. She’s clever and you can’t leave the ends untied. “How about I buy us lunch?” 

“Oh fuck yeah, I’m starving,” she exclaims, “I couldn’t handle that shit they gave me. The egg salad smelled like feet.” 

“Mm, we can order to your place?” 

“Sure,” she smiles, “what time are you out of here?” 

“Bus doesn’t come til eleven,” you dart your eyes around. 

“What’s wrong with you? I mean, I know it’s been a weird ride but you’re not telling me something.” 

You stop by the sign for the bus. You look this way and that. Just say something. 

“I’m moving.” 

“Moving?” She echoes. 

“Yeah, um, my grandma, she’s kinda done with me,” you speak quietly, carefully, weighing every word, “I got a transfer to a different school and uh, they offered me a scholarship...” 

“Wow, you really sound excited,” she remarks dryly. 

“Well, it’s a big change,” you shrug, “I’m still... tryna figure it out.” 

“Of course. That’s huge. Is it far?” 

You nod. 

“Oh,” she hangs her head, “right. Yeah, that’s shitty. But good. Good,” she smiles and lifts her chin, “you need to get out on your own. Away from your grandma. It’ll be great.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you agree softly. “But I’ll miss you.” 

“Miss you too but I mean we’re already in different towns, so what’s a few extra miles,” she says, “when do you leave?” 

You stare across the street and your eyes glaze with tears, “tomorrow.” 

[moddymoon]

Introduction Update...

This is going to take a while to write I think:

Look at current introduction.

Add some stuff that currently gets frequently asked:

Sissy

Slave

Submissive

Switch

Add some stuff about parts that get missed:

Programming

Hypnosis

Trans

Plural

Tech

Security

Autism

Non-binary

Incontinence

ABDL

Add some stuff about contact:

I won't pay you.

I love talking if it's a conversation

Feel free to send me asks

Things not to tell a stranger on the internet.

That's most of what I want here.

Previous Introduction

I have an old introduction post from April 5th (that's not that old just over a month old, but it was probably a bit of a brief introduction. I'm just not very good at doing that, and at that time I had nothing that I could find in my backlog as to what would be considered to be an introduction, so I wrote something up quickly.

The first thing that we talk about there is plurality. I'm not really going to go much into it right here, because I plan on talking more about it further down, but yes, we're a plural system.

And oddly the next thing is our age, (which we keep getting asked about, so it means these people have not read the pinned post). I'm not going to repeat that (but I'm not removing the old post either).

In that it talks a bit about disability. Including neurodivergence, specifically autism.

The next thing I talk about is incontinence. Which sort of extends to ABDL stuff.

Then basically we say that people are free to contact us (there will be more at the bottom of this about that). So, that's just going over what I have already said.

Frequently Asked Questions:

Here's some questions I get asked and while some of these get asked in a combined form I'm going to break them down to the component parts...

Are you a sissy? (why is ### unsuported?)

I'm trans. I was assigned male at birth. I am non-binary. The "Are you a sissy?" type quiz things often will say that yes I am a sissy.

My problem? Well I'm not quite sure if that's an identity I fully would embrace, or if it's a "play" thing.

Are you a slave?

Briefly, if the answer to that is, "yes" then either you are someone closely associated with me and my role in that position, or you shouldn't be answering that.

I am interested in the submissive thing. I've explored lightly the idea of "slave" and would like to explore it further with the right person/people.

Chances are, if you're asking that, you're not going to be the right person.

I guess maybe if you've shown that you've read what I've had to say, and you'd like to confirm what my current status is, and make it clear, then I get it. But... I've not had anything close to that.

And as to whether I would... I'm already in a long distance relationship of some similar nature, and I'm OK with exploring with others, or more with that person in that direction.

Are you a submissive?

Yes, though... I tend to be more than just a submissive, and if you're asking that, then your sense probably isn't what I mean by that.

Here's the thing that I want to say, most people who have asked, don't seem to have a sense of this being a relationship that is built, and that is built on mutual respect and understanding.

If you're one of those people, then probably we're not going to get very far. And while it's not asked, it comes out of these above questions.

Are you a switch?

YES ABSOLUTELY... Part of that is not really being able to define things in black and white, but for example, the "Caregiver/little" role (the relationship mentioned above), overall I feel I'm more of a little, but I end up taking a Caregiver role more often when it comes to a relationship. And I'm fine with that.

Parts that have been missed

I want to write a bit about some stuff I think is missing overall here.

What about programming?

I ended up checking out the tag, "programming" in relationship to hypnosis type stuff, and ran into stuff like "Python" which I was, "dang I can get people talking about that too?" So yes I do programming, I'm not that great, some people have told me that I shouldn't (they might be right, but that's not a useful thing to say).

So yes, I do computer programming.

Hypnosis?

OK, as I just mentioned, I also am into hypnosis, and I guess a lot of other "mental health," or "psychology" type topics. I don't really want to go into detail, but it's relevant to just say yep...

Gender identity stuff...

I've mentioned it above, and probably will more so below. We're non-binary. We tend to present more feminine, than masculine.

What about the incontinence?

Yeah, I have some incontinence, I would say it's mostly urge related, but trying to figure it out, we've not really got a clear answer. Most of the time, if we're on top of things, it's more a matter of "barely making it to the bathroom in time" but there have been some seriously notable accidents... I might talk about them in private once I get to know you (or on some other platform).

But aren't you ABDL?

Yes, as I say often, "Why not both?" There's two things here... Many people who do have incontinence, actually discover that diapers can make their lives incredibly better, and they fall in love with being able to wear, and use diapers...

That literally makes them diaper lovers, and part of the community. Even if it's just really that they love what it does for them on a personal level.

ABDL does not have to be (and often is not sexual), and that's part of the reason that people don't want to associate with it.

And also, people think that ABs and DLs "must go together". Which also not true. Yes, I'm both, but you can be one, without the other (you can even be an AB, who has none of the DL stuff).

Communicating with me

OK, this is where I run into some stuff that I'm often not sure about... Not that I'm not sure about what people are doing, more about my response.

Will you pay me to be your ... whatever?

No, I won't. Especially not if you contacted me first. My following you is not contacting you. My messaging you, because you asked... Is not contacting you.

If you really are just looking to get paid, then save your time, go find someone else to contact.

Will you talk to me?

Absolutely, I love a good conversation. If it's a good give and take (and yes it can take a bit to get there) I'm all up for it.

I'm up for it also if it does take a while to get there, and even if you want to talk about stuff that I'm not really interested in.

If I say something along the lines of, "I won't answer that," or "I won't do that with you where we're at in our relationship." It's not that I'm saying no to the conversation. It's that I'm stating that that particular thing is not OK at least right now.

If you still want to talk, I'm still up to it. Just not in that direction.

Can I send an ask?

I've had some great asks, and I love them. If you want to do that, go for it. I don't know what sending an anonymous ask does on, well either end, but I hope that it will show up in your activity when I answer. So feel free to send me an ask. So far, I've answered every one I've got, on any platform. The answer might be "no I'm not interested," but I haven't had one that I'm feeling even the asking is not OK.

Do you have things you won't answer?

This is the "Things that you should not tell a stranger on the internet," section.

Yes, there's things that I won't answer, at least while you're a stranger:

Where are you located?

What's your age?

What's your sex? (these are what were called ASL questions, and while often asked, have never really been considered appropriate)

What's your real name?

Are you ??? when the thing being asked is a really complicated thing with no yes/no answer?

What is your phone number?

Can you contact me on x other platform (maybe, but most of the time I literally can't I've tried, and people have gotten mad at me for saying no)?

That's not the whole list, but it's enough for now.

Take care everyone... I wasn't sure I was going to get this in a form I was happy with, but here we are.

***THANK YOU TUMBLR FOR MESSING ALL OPPORTUNITIES TO PROPERLY FORMAT POSTS***

[topfsecret]

Dress to Impress Lana Lore: Why her?

Post Date: 1 November 2024

special thanks to youtuber callmehhaley for her video "SECRETS In The LANA LORE QUEST & Breakdown! *STORY EXPLAINED?* | Dress To Impress Halloween Update"

also thank you to youtuber izzzyzzz for her video "The Dress To Impress Horror ARG Explained"

For my thoughts on Nurse Julie from the Halloween Update, feel free to visit TopfSecret's Lana Lore Tag!

.

Why Did Agamemnon Choose Lana?

At first, it's easy to say that Agamemnon symbolizes the predatory people in the fashion industry. The early Lana lore cements this interpretation. Agamemnon's minions exploited Lana's sickness, roping her into a job so she can pay her medical bills, before trapping her in the whole Awakening business.

But the Halloween Update reveal that Agamemnon may have caused Lana's illness in the first place is... wild. It doesn't undo the above interpretation, especially with the shadowy cult stuff. But why Lana? Why not take someone who's already got a terminal illness? There's plenty of desperate people to take advantage of in this age of capitalism.

The song "Temptation" may have the answers. It's reaching a little bit, but please bear with me!

Let me tell you a story of betrayal Between two people unalike There was a goddess, who was immortal against a jealousy of a warrior and when the time came for a judgement There were more wrongs than a right There was no solace, no immunity banished from who he used to be

So, there's precedent in greek mythology of mortals being punished for wanting to surpass/being better than the gods, for example Arachne - being turned into a spider for defeating Athena in a weaving contest. There's also precedent of mortals being punished for cheating death (wanting immortality), as in the case of Sisyphus - doomed to push a boulder up a hill for eternity because he trapped Thanatos (personification of death) and prevented him from taking Sisyphus' soul.

So it's not a stretch to say that Agamemnon isn't a new figure. I can't say if he's literally mythological Agamemnon, but he could be? From wikipedia: "Agamemnon has slain an animal sacred to Artemis, and subsequently boasts that he is her equal in hunting."

ummm... yeah. That's punishment material, babey. A warrior (well, hunter) of sorts being jealous of Artemis' immortality... makes sense, but not quite.

Regardless, in my opinion, DTI Agamemnon is old enough to have been jealous of a goddess' immortality, trying to get it, and then being punished for it. I'm guessing his punishment is being denied a physical form, doomed to be a ghost forever (since he wants immortality so much). My rationale: he's seen as hallucinations and dark shadows in the Halloween Update, which is probably the earliest chronologically (since it talks about Lana's leaving her house and her hospital days).

He only got a physical form after sacrificing multiple souls (seen in the earlier updates), such as the Fortress Security Footage #1. It's not his "ultimate" form, though, which is why he keeps trying to get more sacrifices.

For the temptation in his heart His life was doomed right from the start He wanted more than what he got But it was locked away

Well, duh. Immortality is locked away from mortals for a reason. If his life is "doomed from the start", it could be that DTI Agamemnon is based on (or is actually) mythological Agamemnon, where his entire family has been doomed due to the actions of his ancestor, Tantalus.

Obsessed with immortality He wanted to live eternally Wanted to make himself a God and now he's locked away

This explains itself. He may have been locked away by the goddess that he was jealous of back in the first verse.

So he planned to sneak into the palace and consume what wasn't his he thought you made it, with all his malice but he was caught in carelessness

"Sneak into the palace" could have not been literal, because I have no idea what the literal equivalent is. However, a palace and a fortress can be equated in some way - which may mean that he's creating The Fortress to consume what wasn't his (souls of the innocent).

How about "He thought you made it, with all his malice, but he was caught in carelessness."?

Well.

This is where my speculation goes to an unhinged place.

Ready? Of course you are.

So: I think Lana may have been related to whoever goddess punished Agamemnon in the first place. Whether she's the goddess' descendant, or a reincarnation, or simply an unlucky mortal chosen for a quest, Lana Dress to Impress may have divine purpose.

That's why Agamemnon chose Lana as his main collaborator/pawn instead of other terminally ill young women (or others whom he thinks is easily exploited). He wanted to get revenge on the goddess that punished him in the first place, so he took it out on Lana.

I think "he thought you made it, with all his malice" means that Agamemnon has the impression that Lana made it (the Fortress) for him.

"But he was caught in carelessness" because he assumed wrong. In truth, Lana made the whole thing to stop him - at least at first, before he started influencing her. In the previous updates, we see that Lana made the whole Saudade/Coterie thing to stop the Awakening. It could've been a prophecy, or something driven inside her because of her divine heritage. Her obsession with ancient Greek mythology could be explained by her unknowingly reaching for her birthright/quest hints/etc.. (Although, that goddess would not be Artemis, I think.)

I think Lana made all that stuff to stop him and the Awakening as soon as she left the hospital. She thought she was free! She wants to, has to, fight back against him!

But of course, Agamemnon is still stalking her, waiting until the right time to influence her again, to make her work for him instead.

now the time came for a judgement and he pleaded for his life he would be banished, and stay immortal if only he sacrificed a few souls

The problem is, I still don't really know how these lines fit. "Stay immortal if only he sacrificed a few souls" wouldn't make sense if the gods didn't want him to be immortal as more than an incorporeal shadow/hallucination.

Maybe he knew, somehow, that he had to sacrifice a few souls to become immortal (not only tangible, but also having an Ultimate Form through the Awakening)? Did he know that innately? Or did someone else, a greater force, tell him? I really don't know. We probably need more information.

If you're a bigger Greek mythology nerd than we are (which is probably the case - do let us know if I missed some important part of the Agamemnon mythological lore.)

Thank you all so much for reading!

.

To see more Dress to Impress ARG thoughts:

TopfSecret's Lana Lore Tag

[appleflavoredkitkats]

let's talk abt c!fundy, as a whole:

i don't really know what i want the flow of this post to be. i don't really have any goals in mind, but i really, really, wanted to talk about c!fundy. i don't think i can intellectually cover his storyline arc by arc because, well, i don't actually think i'm capable of doing that in excruciating detail (especially for l'manberg and nlm) but. oh my god i need to talk about him. and my experience i had backing his character up ever since the pet wars.

takes about fundy as an underrated character only became popular around the time manberg ended. a big contributing factor to this is that dsmp recap and update accounts on tumblr and twt only started thriving by that time. so basically, a lot of pre-end of manberg stuff done by cc's who weren't tommy, wilbur, or quackity tended to be ignored, because nobody realized there were more pov’s to consider.

and tbh! as much as i was a bitter fan last 2020, i do want to acknowledge this isn't the fault of the fans. but of course this doesn't come without repercussions. a good portion of people only realized fundy was a spy for pogtopia only when he revealed it to wilbur. this comes as a surprise to me at that time because fundy confirmed as early as eret's election results stream that he was going to pretend to be a traitor.

but okay, that's well and settled. but i guess the bigger issue back then i grappled with a lot as a fundy fan was that many people described fundy's eventual reverence to schlatt and his “disownment” of wilbur to be out of nowhere or uncalled for. as someone who has paid attention to fundy to a tee ever since the pet wars, there is so much little things that occurred that built up fundy's dislike towards wilbur.

for one— wilbur's absence and belittlement of the pet war fiasco. although i'll give it that the pet wars is more of an exploration of fundy's character, especially as a friend to others, rather than something that proved wilbur's neglect. the elections was really where things start becoming finicky. from the mix of tommy saying fundy “would have been exiled from l'manberg if he weren't wilbur's son” (which caused him to create coconut2020) to him not siding with wilbur in the election debates, expressing his feelings of exclusion within l'manberg. there are so many moments, expressions of frustrations for how belittled he feels in the eyes of wilbur and tommy.

and, well, i think this is explored very uniquely in manberg, but in a more subtle way. yes we know about the disowning and the charged exchanges he and wilbur had, but i think that. his relationship with schlatt is one of the more undervalued things about manberg. we know about all the rampant dadschlatt headcanons with tubbo, but oh my god, i need more people to see that it is literally canon that fundy saw schlatt as a father figure and schlatt viewed fundy as his son.

that dynamic is so unexplored. the way fundy first started as a traitor, then almost got caught by schlatt with schlatt telling him that. he hopes fundy can be someone he trusts to make manberg great. man to man. schlatt has continuously raised the ranks fundy had in manberg, makes him tag along in different events. fundy made the schlatt throne and the decorations for manberg.

fundy gave up being a spy because he thought schlatt respected him more than wilbur. then, schlatt killed some cats during the festival and blew it all. i think, on one hand, it's funny this is all it took. on the other, fundy has shown to have massive reverence for the pets that exist in this server. the pet war especially, where it's not only fungi who he avenged but beelloon and niki's fish and farm animals and his own endermen. he himself even couldn't kill skechers. he was upset in nlm when tubbo accidentally killed his fox.

and again, wilbur's absence during the pet wars spoke loudly to him, so when he sees wilbur in schlatt for the first time, he drops him.

there's also sort of a meta angle with fundy being sidelined as a character. i always mention this in my own posts, but yeah. i believe cc!fundy mentioned during manberg that it was hard playing a villain because his views plummeted. and i also find it interesting that cc!fundy didn't stream a lot of pivotal moments in the dsmp during nlm, like schlatt's funeral and the butcher army fiasco. he wasn't even present during the disc war finale.

i can never in my life assume whatever cc!fundy wanted for his character, but i remember, before las nevadas was announced, i came to terms with realizing that i cannot control whatever cc!fundy wanted with his character. if he wanted to step away from the dsmp then i supported it, because if he didn't find himself having fun doing all that, or he thinks not a lot of people liked his character despite his efforts, then i get it.

doomsday isn't my favorite fundy moment. it's subjective, and definitely a hot take among the fundy community, but to me letting go and breaking down felt like a low hanging fruit for him, because genuinely i didn't expect it. there's no build up to it. not in the neglect department, no, fundy definitely has been traumatized enough. but i feel like the manner in which this was expressed felt too angry to be in character— which, tbh, is bold of me to say because who am i to question cc!fundy's character decisions. but genuinely there wasn't a lot of streams in between that and other emotional beats to warrant a heavy breakdown like that.

ok, before i get skewered, what i'm saying is that i think doomsday tends to overshadow everything else fundy did because a lot of fans really wanted some kind of villain arc like that from him. and as cool as the “i want to make them cry” thing is, i don’t think fundy breaking down angrily like that and giving up on everything is representative of his entire character, especially when we see the larger picture with las nevadas and his reunion with wilbur.

fundy is emotional, but not angry. he gets angry at wilbur for almost leaving during their reunion, but he pleads immediately after. he yelps “what the fuck?” at quackity when quackity belittles his achievements, but he pleads “i don't know what to do” softly when quackity compares him to l'manberg fading away.

fundy's character hopes easily, gets attached easily, which is why his breakdown to me feels like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit. to be fair, i can't expect all things in the dsmp to be executed perfectly! and if it weren't for las nevadas, doomsday would've probably been the finale for fundy's storyline, and it makes more sense to view it that way.

but imma just say, thank the fuck it wasn't.

my most favorite thing about fundy would be his consistency, especially with what kind of baggage his character brings within every arc. i think the las nevadas episode that showcases how quackity manipulated him into joining establishes exactly what fundy’s character is in essence.

when quackity compared him to the fading buildings in l'manberg, we got it. we got the confirmation i wanted on what his character is supposed to be, and that is— principally and representatively, he is l'manberg. wilbur's definition of what l'manberg's supposed to be. originally, l'manberg prided itself on peaceful unity that didn't rely on minecraft pvp as a source of power, which is the complete antithesis of the entire cycle of violence we observe in the dsmp later on.

of course, wilbur lets go of these ideas being realistic after they win, then completely gives up mid-pogtopia arc, because to him, l'manberg is a manifestation of his ideologies succeeding. if it doesn't, then l'manberg is nothing. so what does it mean then, in this case, if l'manberg was something wilbur promised to fundy?

well. to me that means wilbur succeeded. fundy is l'manberg. let me explain.

fundy, like tubbo, was present in all iterations of l'manberg. he was close to every single president, usually one of their backups whenever an event occurs. this also happens with las nevadas. he becomes blindlessly devoted to someone if they give him a lick of attention, something wilbur never gave him, but more importantly, his presidents promised him safety and prosperity. when he and schlatt fought before schlatt died, fundy mentioned he sided with schlatt until he ruined plans with manberg.

this is why he also believed in nlm, in las nevadas. he believes in the upturn of cyclical violence in the dsmp, unconditionally and devotedly. he created flags for manberg and lnv, hell, even gogtopia, and he as a dutch also inspired l'manberg's flag. while i also don't think he fully embodies the idea of peace (he is a prankster after all), he definitely embodies how that pacifistic mindset is viewed or treated in the dsmp.

which explains how he dies, i suppose. he dies diving into the l'manberg crater, after cutting ties with wilbur. it's metaphorical in one way, and sad in the other. on one hand, it makes sense. if the embodiment of l'manberg and its principles cut its ties from wilbur, especially considering that the dsmp ends a few months later without ending the cycle of violence, of course they would die. they would disappear.

it would explain why cc!wilbur explains the scene as fundy wanting to get as far away from wilbur as much as possible, not to end it all.

on the other hand, it's sad because… if your entire character is dependent on that toxic connection to nationalism, l'manberg, and wilbur, then, what are you? a few days later, fundy donates the schlatt sword he holds dear and calls an “heirloom” away to the museum. he stands in the rain and disappears from the dsmp forever.

sometimes i wonder what fundy would be, independent of l'manberg. to be okay with being alone, with not involving himself in countries with big plans of power.

it's a hard thing to figure out because we never see fundy after that moment. even before those moments, fundy defined himself always from the way he gets belittled. even the fact that he is a prankster gets roped into this, because he is often made a punchline to other characters like schlatt, phil, tommy, and more. no one takes him seriously. if everyone treats your existence as nothing but a joke, what part of you, then, is real?

we never got to understand what fundy's dreams mean, in the end. we've only seen two instances of this, although in the stream where he finds out wilbur is alive again, he mentions having multiple dreams seeing wilbur. i guess what i can offer is that fundy having such a useful power such as prophetic dreams just proves how he has no one to report things to.

it's like greek myth's cassandra. he's gifted with the skill of knowledge and foresight that he literally cannot use because no one takes him seriously. theoretically, he could have predicted dream's escape, charlie's death, but if he has no one he could trust, what's the point?

fundy’s so much more than what people see him as, inside lore and outside. his entire character explores what it means to be sidelined, to constantly question your worth because of other's input to the point you become it. and when we finally get the catharsis of him letting go, he becomes… nothing. he disappears.

it's sad to see fundy's storyline end this way, but as a fan, i think it felt complete. it felt right. a friend once told me closure is a luxury in the dsmp and fundy is not exempt from that. i'm happy cc!fundy was able to at least tell us a complete story like that, and i'm happy to have met so many fundy fans throughout my entire time here.

he's a great character. i'm happy that he at least exists and prospers in our eyes.

[the4n4juggalo]

redoing this because i accidentally deleted it lol

hiya, my name is anon! with the help of my friend em and another friend on the inside, we expose predators on edblr and report them to our predator masterlist.

to be clear, while we are pro-recov, we donot post ed content we only really post when we find another predator. which you can find from our #whoop whoop tag (cos, thats the sound of the police, and i guess we're the police?)

you can report a predator by going into our inbox or by going into our dms, preferably with screenshots. it means a lot to us to see this community come together to help people and this account wouldn't be what it is without yall so i am eternally grateful to everyone who even interacts because it really boosts the blog to those who need it

outside of that, if you ever have just any questions in general, hit us up in our inbox. it'd be interesting to get to know each other!

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p.s. if you are ever dming or just generally interacting it's me (anon!) who'll respond. em doesn't own the account and also doesn't rlly look at the dms cos it'd be kinda weird if you're dming and you dont know who it is your talking to, so im the one who does all that

btw, im deleting all the ignorant comments on here, im not gonna correct yall or block yall, im just gonna delete them bc aint noone got time for that

if you twist my words to turn this post into me being an asshole i will not bend over backwards so you understood what i very clearly said

[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)  

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow. 

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit. 

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.” 

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.” 

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported  jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer. 

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him. 

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already. 

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.” 

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.) 

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?” 

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before? 

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting. 

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something. 

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop. 

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.” 

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response. 

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse. 

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know? 

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips. 

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet. 

[pistachiozombie]

Hello friends, I have been gone for a while but I plan on posting more soon. In the meantime here are some updates I guess?

So firstly I'm not really associating myself with fandom communities anymore, for my mental health sake. I'm just going to personally enjoy 'thing' , do my usual art posting, and talk about it with my closest circle. Cause honestly trying to belong in places that are cliquey and biased is exhausting. Granted, I met some amazing people and I don't mind being friendly with folks who are in fandoms though.

I want to make it clear I still love the fandom content, just not (most of) the fandom communities. I am okay with drawing and getting commissions of things from xyz fandom.

Somewhat related, I decided to make Bofur his own character for post-hobbit journey specifically (SitS: Lavender Skies) and is now going to go as Boru Wetherbee with some similarities to Bofur but at this point it's heavy inspiration. It's also his name in my Satyr Glades AU. I'll be going back and re-tagging everything appropriately.

I sort of feel bad for 'tainting' him and changing him into something he really isn't amongst the fandom and movies. I've gotten enough hate to realize that i've been blacklisted/muted cause they were tired of seeing it on their search. Not to mention some of the s\mut i have produced elsewhere that may appear in search that could offend. Anyway he will be his own character in my original au, their story being a primary focus.

I'm also still working on Resident Evil oc stuff so I hope the handful of you who follow for that will look forward to it ~

Thanks to those who stuck around and will continue to~

[whoawardwinchester]

A Winchester Chronicle (c5)

Please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging. It fuels the creativity and lets me know you're enjoying my hard work.

Summary: Y/N returns to the "Supernatural" set, where the director welcomes her back and introduces new health policies to support the cast and crew. Filming for the "Monster Movie" episode showcases the undeniable chemistry between Y/N and Jensen, captivating everyone on set. Despite her recent challenges, Y/N feels a renewed sense of belonging and purpose. The chapter ends with a hopeful outlook, highlighting the strong bond and trust between Y/N and Jensen.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Content Warning: (subject to change per chapter as this series is written) rough sex, reference to PCOS and Endo, arguments, tension, angst and physical violence. Smut, fluff. Readers are advised to proceed with caution due to these themes and scenes.

Rating: 18+ for the whole series.

This is a work of fiction. There is no hate for anyone in real life.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series, just let me know! Also be sure to tell me how I'm doing or request anything related to Jensen/Dean!

Taglist: @nancymcl @perpetualabsurdity @hobby27

Masterlist

Chapter 5: Has reference to Episode 5 'Monster Movie'

You lie in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. Pain still radiates from the surgery site, but it's dulled by the medication coursing through your veins. As you stare at the ceiling, your thoughts drift between Dee and your mother. Just as you begin to lose yourself in the haze of it all, a familiar face appears at the door.

Jensen steps into the room, his presence immediately soothing. He approaches with a tentative smile, concern etched in his eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, pulling a chair up beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You try to muster a smile. “Better, I guess. Still a bit out of it. Did you sleep well?.”

He nods, taking your hand in his. “ I guess. I had some issues with my room key. I’ve been worried about you. We all have. Jared said the set’s not the same without us.”

His words bring a lump to your throat. “I miss it too. But... things have been so overwhelming lately.”

Jensen squeezes your hand gently. “I know. And I hate to add to that, but I need you to come back. I mean how is Dean going to survive without Raven? ” He joked.

You look at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. “Jensen, I don’t know if I can go back. Not yet. There’s so much I need to sort out, especially with my mom and everything that happened with Dee.”

He nods, understanding. “I get it. You need to take care of yourself first.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you reflect on his words. The set had always been more than just a job. It was a second home, a family. And yet, the turmoil in your personal life made it hard to see that clearly.

“Jensen,” you begin, your voice trembling, “I need stability. I need to know that things will be different, that Dee won’t be an issue anymore.”

He leans closer, his expression earnest. “I’ve talked with Dee. She will never apologize, but she told me in not so great words that she hopes we enjoy each other.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a small sense of relief. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Jensen smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Of course. Get some rest.”

His words resonate deep within you, offering a glimmer of hope. As you lie back against the pillows, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to the place you love, surrounded by people who genuinely care for you.

As the days pass slowly in the hospital room, Jensen remains a constant presence by your side, his unwavering support a source of comfort. He spends hours talking to you, sharing updates about the cast and how the director is driving him crazy, reminding you of how much you’re missed.

“Enough about the set, for now. Can I ask you something?” Jensen climbs into your hospital bed to hold you close to him. “Of course.” You say, shifting to embrace him, wincing a little. “Careful. You don’t have to move.” He supports you more. “Why did your mom say that your husband wouldn’t have stood up for you?” He asks, dropping his chin to the top of your head. “My husband was great, truly. But he wasn’t one for conflict… unless it was fighting with me.” Your eyes saddened as you said it. You hated putting him down, especially since he couldn’t be there to defend himself, but you could never not be transparent. “He did everything my mom asked of him, even if it meant crossing boundaries in our relationship.” “Why did you stay?” He asked, raising your chin up to look at him. His eyes were studying you now. “I couldn’t go home. I knew it then and I should've known it this time. I had no money of my own, no support, and three kids who depended on me.” You said embarrassed. The weight of your words made your stomach sink. “It was actually a fight we had the night the accident happened.” He was silent, unsure of what to say. All Jensen could do was embrace you with his body as much as he could. “I think he was on his way to take the kids to his parents’ house. He just packed them up after we all went to bed and left…” You added. The memory pushing at your throat distorts your voice. “Why? Over a disagreement?” Jensen asked. “Because my mom put it in his head that I was only homeschooling because I wanted to take them from him, even though we both felt that homeschooling was right for all of them… They struggled with ADHD, just like I did. I was happy to give them more of a chance to learn at their own pace, to embrace their “superpower” instead of shutting it down like my mom did for me.” You said, getting angry again. “‘Shut it down?’” He asked. “She sent me to this boarding school in Europe in the middle of BFE. It looked sketchy in the pamphlets, but I agreed to go just to get away from her. I thought the distance would have helped but it was only worse over there. There were a total of 5 girls, and they abused us all. When I called to come home, my mom obliged, but began telling me how selfish I was. Everything was always my fault, speak when spoken to, don’t go outside, don’t go out with friends… It was so bad, I found myself wishing I was back at that boarding school.” You rambled, sitting up, in pain. “The physical pain was easier to heal from.” “Shhhhh. Let me get a nurse.” Jensen got up, concern dawned on his face. A nurse came in and asked you about your pain, adding, “Sorry I’m late, miss, we are short staffed tonight.” She administered some medicine in your IV and left. The effects hit almost immediately. “Lay back, babe. Forget everything. You’re safe.” Jensen helped you down to your pillow, stroking your hair from your face. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was, “For as long as I live, You’ll always be safe.”

The next afternoon, Jensen steps out to make a phone call. When he returns, there's a determined look on his face. He sits down beside you, taking your hand. "I talked to the director," he says. " He said that he can accommodate your absence in the face of a medical emergency, funding and filming won’t cease, but you’d have to agree to come back."

“I still don’t know yet. I don’t even have an end date from here.” You said, taking his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

The hospital staff come and go, checking your vitals and ensuring you’re comfortable. Each visit reminds you of the support network you had back on set. The betrayal by Dee, the harsh words from your mother—it all feels like a distant storm, getting to know Jensen and him understanding your background makes you feel like you can move forward. Now it was just about getting out of the hospital and finding the right time to tell Jensen you’d try again even though you weren’t completely sold.

Late one night, as the hospital falls into a hushed silence, your mother arrives. Jensen is asleep in the chair beside your bed, his hand still entwined with yours. Your mother's presence fills the room with an oppressive tension. She approaches your bed, her expression cold and disapproving.

"Y/N," she begins, her voice low and sharp, "You better not be thinking of leaving once you’ve healed. You need to realize what a mistake that would be. If you continue down this path, you can forget about any inheritance. You’ll have nothing."

Her words cut deep, reopening old wounds. You feel a mix of anger and despair, the familiar sting of her disapproval weighing heavily on you. Before you can respond, Jensen stirs, his eyes fluttering open. He takes in the scene, his expression darkening as he overhears your mother's harsh ultimatum.

"Mrs. Y/L/N," Jensen says, his voice firm as he stands from his chair, "I think it’s time for you to leave."

Your mother glares at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. "This is a family matter. It’s none of your business."

Jensen stands, placing himself between you and your mother. "Y/N is my family. She doesn’t need this right now."

Tears prick at your eyes as you watch the confrontation unfold. You feel a surge of gratitude for Jensen’s unwavering support. "Jen," you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside, "I’m going back with you. The only mistake was ever thinging I still possibly have a home here. My home was buried 14 months ago…” “No, you do, it’s wherever we are, together. And a happier home; a SAFE home, it will always be.” He places a hand on your thigh, as he looks from you to your mother.

Your mother’s expression falters for a moment before hardening again. "You’re making a mistake," she hisses, but she turns and leaves the room without another word.

As the door closes behind her, you let out a shaky breath. Jensen turns to you, his eyes softening. "You deserve to be happy, but are you absolutely sure about your decision?"

You nod, feeling a sense of relief and determination. "So do you. I… have never been more sure about wanting to be with someone in my life than when I was with my kids. But are YOU sure you want to be with me? With these… problems?" Doubts creeping into your brain about your physical insecurities, as you motion toward your IV. “It’s a lot, Jen. And it’s not going away…”

He smiles, his hand finding yours again. "I don’t know how I’ve lived in my life without you. Every day since I saw you walk into that casting call, I’ve thought about you. You are my happiness.I’ll call set tomorrow with the news."

He kisses your head and lays beside you, both drifting to sleep.

A week later, a doctor came to see you. “Good morning Ms. Y/L/N. I have great news, you get to break out of here today.” He said writing down some last vitals and smiling at you and Jensen. “Oh thank God. If I stayed any longer, you’d be treating me for bed sores and boredom.” You joke, sitting up. The nurse, Doctor, and Jensen all laughed. “I just need to see your incision site and ask you a few questions and then we can get you the discharge papers.” The doctor said, putting on gloves. “Okay. Hey, Jensen, could you go grab some coffee?” You asked sheepishly as you laid back preparing for the doctor to lift your gown. “I’m sorry Miss, the Cafe doesn’t open for another hour.” The nurse said as Jensen nodded at you, silently understanding your request. “I can still step out.” He leaned over to kiss your head before he walked out of the room. Everything looked great and went so smoothly as the doctor checked you over, asked about your pain, and if you had support at home. They got you discharged within the hour. Jensen secured a car and you both made your way to the hotel. The hotel lobby buzzes with quiet activity as you and Jensen step inside, the warmth of the interior contrasting sharply with the cool Seattle night air. You’ve never been in a place as fancy as this. Jensen guides you to the front desk, his hand reassuringly placed at the small of your back. The receptionist greets you both with a practiced smile.

"Welcome back, Mr. Ackles," she says, handing over a room key. "Here is your extra keycard for your lady friend."

Jensen nods, taking the keycard and offering a smile in return. "Thank you.”

You follow him to the elevator, the anticipation between you crackling like static electricity. When the elevator doors close, Jensen turns to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and affection. "I’m glad you’re here," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. He pulls you close to him, his lips crashing into yours. You drop your bag and wrap your hand around his neck, and kiss him back.

The elevator dings, interrupting the moment as you reach the third floor. You both chuckle as an old couple clears their throat to replace you on the elevator. Jensen leads the way down the hallway to room 312 taking your hand, sliding the keycard into the lock. The light flashes red. He frowns, tries again, but the result is the same.

"This has been happening a lot here," he says, his tone exasperated yet controlled. He leads you back to the front desk, this time taking the stairs. “Oh no. It’s not working again?” The receptionist asked. Jensen nods. Moments later, she returns with new keycards, but they too fail to unlock the door.

"This is ridiculous," Jensen mutters, running a hand through his hair. You both go back to the lobby where he waves the keycard at the receptionist, “No workie…” He said sarcastically. She calls for the manager. The manager, a middle-aged man with a harried look, follows you and Jensen back to the room. He tries the master key, but it also fails.

"My key no work, the door is no good," the manager says apologetically. "I have maintenance come in morning and, uh, break it down."

Jensen, visibly frustrated, turns to the manager. "So, you're saying the door has to be broken in and you can’t do it until morning?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Cool, stand back." Jensen steps forward and, with a swift, powerful kick, forces the door open. He grabs his bags from the room and turns to the manager. "We couldn’t wait until morning. Please get us a new suite with working keys."

You watch in awe, your heart racing. There’s something undeniably attractive about his take-charge attitude. Your face flushes with heat as your body tingles with lust. The manager stammers an apology and scurries off to arrange a new room. Jensen turns to you, a sheepish grin on his face. "What?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "That was... impressive." You tucked your hair behind your ear, shyly. He picks you up on his back and grabs both of bags. “What are you doing?” you whispered in his ear. “I can’t have you tired yet, princess. The day has just begun.” He swaggers away following the manager. 

Within minutes, you’re settled into a new suite, the door securely closed behind you. The room is spacious and elegant, a perfect retreat after the chaos of the hospital and the confrontation with your mother. As soon as you’re alone, the tension that’s been building between you and Jensen snaps. He pulls you into his arms, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. He pauses, looking at you. “I wasn’t thinking. Are you ok? Do you need anything? I should have thought…” He looked concerned and apologetic. “Jensen.” You interrupt him. “I’m fine.” You put a finger to his lips to get him to stop talking. “The only words that should be coming out of your mouth is...” You ran your hand down to his pants, firmly grasping his erection. He groaned, his eyes flashing to your hand and back to your face. “THAT.” You bit your lip in reaction. 

He took no time in removing your clothes and you removing his. There was no gentleness in his demeanor, but you knew that if he went to far, he’d stop immediately. You had no care about your insecurities tonight. All you knew was that you wanted Jensen and you wanted him now. “Jen…” you began, placing your small hands on his shoulders through a break in kissing. “No.” He looked at you sternly. “No words, remember. Show me.” He picked you up and you entwined with fierce kisses again, moaning at the feeling. You leaned back toward the bed, as he still held you, catching yourself on your hands. He lowered you in sync with your movements and you pulled him on top of you. He spread your legs with one swift movement of his and was teasing you with anticipation. You couldn’t wait for him. He wanted you to show him, you were going to show him. You locked your right leg over his left and flipped him over, climbing on top of him. It was no easy feat, but you were determined. He growled at the sight of you on top, immediately caressing your body. He worked his way from your hips to your breasts, sending goosebumps all over. You took his hand and pushed it to your throat, lightly squeezing the sides to set the pressure. He sat up looking at your face, as you slid his cock inside you. A gasp escaped your mouth and you reared your head up at the length of him completely inside you. He brought your face to his by guiding you with his hand still on your neck. He nipped at your lips and then licked the side of your neck down to your breasts that were now fully bouncing as you gave into the pleasure. “Jensen. I’m… about to… BABE!” you screamed, wrapping both hands around his at your neck for stability as you rode out the orgasm. He took it all in. When you finished, he brought you closer to him again, face on his. His strong hand is a little more firm on your neck now. “You shouldn’t have come yet. You’re not done, baby. You’re going to come all night for me.” His voice was a deep octave. You felt tingles in your gut all over again as his green eyes pierced yours. You wriggle under the grasp he has on you, smiling seductively. “So are you.” You whispered, biting your lip. The night becomes a blur of silent words and shared rough intimacies, the outside world fading away as you explore the depths of your connection. The first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You lie nestled against Jensen, your heart full and your body pleasantly exhausted. You just opened your eyes glancing at the clock, remembering that you have a flight to catch in just under an hour. “We’re going to miss the flight!!” 

You scramble out of bed, hastily dressing and gathering your things. Jensen moves with equal urgency, his usual calm demeanor momentarily replaced with frantic energy. "We’re cutting it close," he mutters, glancing at his watch.

You race to the airport, the minutes ticking away too quickly. The security lines are mercifully short, but the gate was a hefty run away, and you make it just as the staff begins to close it. You both flash your boarding passes, breathless and relieved, and hurry onto the plane.

Once you’re seated, you exchange a look with Jensen, a shared giggle that speaks volumes about the night you’ve had. The plane takes off, and as it reaches cruising altitude. You catch Jensen looking at you out of the corner of your eye and you tuck your hair behind your ear and you pretend not to have noticed him. “What are you doing to me… woman.” He whispered playfully shifting in his seat. “Whatever do you mean Mr. Ackles?” You joked back. Doing it again, this time looking him in the eyes. He brought you in for a kiss. "Meet me in the bathroom in three minutes." You said through closed teeth, just low enough for only him to hear.

Jensen’s eyes light up with a mix of surprise and excitement. He nods, and you make your way down the aisle, trying to appear casual. A few minutes later, he joins you in the cramped bathroom. “Well, this seemed like a better idea before I saw the condition of this place.” You said glancing around the small bathroom, disappointed. The toilet cover was cracked, toilet paper strewn about, making the whole thing feel dirty. “We should wait.” You added. Jensen looks around, equally as disappointed, and then picks you up. “Well, at least let me help you.” He said lightly scratching down your back as you hang on to him with your legs wrapped around his waist. You no longer cared about the state of the bathroom. “MMM, no. Let’s do this.” You both started kissing frantically without much room to manuever, when a jolt of turbulence makes you both slam against the door. It breaks open and you both fall out, Jensen breaking the fall but causing loud crash none the less. Everyone turned in their seats to see what happened. He helped you up saying loud enough for others to hear, “Oh, I didn’t realize there was someone in there. Excuse me.” He winked at you. You played along. “No worries. Be careful, the seat is cracked.” You added as you headed back to your seat, your face filling with a little twinge of embarrassment. He went back into the bathroom for a few minutes and met you back at his seat, taking your hand in his as he sat down. “Are you ok?” He asked, chuckling. “Yes. My dignity isn’t, but I’m fine.” You giggled, putting your forehead to his. “Are you?” You added. “I’m perfect. Tired, but perfect.” He said leaning his seat back a little. “Get some rest.” You kissed his forehead and put in your headphones, leaning back, as well. The plane touches down, and you both disembark, the exhaustion of your sleepless night tempered by the excitement of returning to the set. Some of the familiar faces of the cast and crew greet you with smiles and hugs once you get there, welcoming you back with genuine warmth.

The director gathers you and Jensen for a brief meeting, his expression serious but kind. "Welcome back, Y/N. We’re glad to have you with us again. We’ve made some changes to ensure everyone’s safety and well-being. Let’s make sure we take care of each other."

“I’m truly sorry for all of the trouble I’ve caused. I promise you’ll never have any issue like this happen from me again.” You said, taking the director’s hands in yours. “I’m just glad you’re well. It’s all forgotten now. Are you up for filming a little today?” He said tapping your hands with his. “Let’s do it!” you said, already walking toward the costume trailer.

You step onto the set of "Supernatural," after hair and makeup, the familiar sights and sounds greeting you like old friends. The hustle and bustle of crew members setting up equipment, the quiet murmur of actors reviewing their lines, and the comforting smell of coffee wafting from the craft services table—all of it feels like coming home.

Jensen walks beside you, his presence a steadying force. He catches the eye of the director, who nods in acknowledgment before calling for everyone's attention.

"Alright, everyone, gather around," the director says, his voice carrying a note of authority mingled with warmth. The cast and crew form a loose circle, their expressions curious and attentive. "First, I want to welcome Y/N back. We're thrilled to have you with us again."

A wave of applause and cheers erupts, filling you with a rush of gratitude. You smile, nodding your thanks as the director continues. "We’ve made some updates to our policies to address medical emergencies on set. It’s important that we take care of each other, so we’ll be conducting regular health check-ins and ensuring that emergency contacts and medical information are up to date for everyone."

The crew murmurs their agreement, and you feel a sense of support and solidarity wrapping around you like a warm blanket. This is a family, you realize, one that looks out for each other no matter what. The set is transformed into a black-and-white homage to classic horror films for the Season 4, Episode 5 shoot, "Monster Movie." The atmosphere crackles with energy as you and Jensen prepare for your scene. You adjust your costume, a vintage outfit that makes you feel like you’ve stepped back in time, while Jensen, dressed as Dean, exudes a rugged charm.

The director gives the signal, and the cameras start rolling. Dean has just been drugged and taken to ‘Dracula’s Castle’, bound to a table after changed into a traditional Oktoberfest outfit. Dean: Oh, come on. (He wakes up glancing at his situation. Looks around studying the room with worry on his face as he find a large portrait on the wall of a woman.)

Dracula: (entering the room) She is beautiful, no? Bride number three front he first film. She never got the acclaim that she deserved. (He walked to her portrait, stroking her face on the wall.) Which is why I chose her shape, her form to move among the mortals unnoticed, to listen to the cricket songs of the living. (He looks at Dean)

Dean looks confused as he takes in his words. Dracula: That is when I discovered my bride had been reborn in this century. Dean: (chuckling as Dracula looks at him in a how-dare-you way) I can’t get over what pumpkin-pie-eyed, crazy son of a bitch you really are. (Dracula walks creepily at him, clearly offended.) You’re not Dracula! You get that, right? Or even if you think you are Dracula, what the hell is up with the Mummy?! Dracula: (Closer to Dean as he finished his question, punches Dean in the face.) I AM ALL MONSTERS! (holds a hand up in defiance, glaring at Dean. Dean shakes his head as he takes the punch) Dean: Life ain’t a movie you sorry sack of…. (Dracula punches Dean again.) AAH. Dracula: (glaring at Dean) Life is small, meager, messy. (Walks away) The movies are grand, simple, elegant. I have chosen elegance. (holds out his cape to either side of him) Dean: (looking at him like he’s stupid) You think “elegance” is really the word for what you did to Marissa or Rick Deacon or any of the OTHERS?! Dracula: (wraps his cape like a bat) But of course. It is a Monster Movie, after all. Dean: You do realize what happens at the END of every Monster Movie? Dracula: Ah. But this movie is MINE. (Dean looks worried again) And in it, the monster… WINSSSS.The monster get the girllll. (Walking creepily to switches on the wall) And the hero, he’s… electrocuted. (Laughs evilly) and tonight, Jonathan Harker, you will be my hero. (Reaches for the switch)

Dean: Wait, Wait, Wait, Wait. (Chuckles nervously) (Dracula continues reaching slowly, watching Dean as he grapples with getting free of the table in anticipation of being hurt) (Doorbell rings and Dracula stops just before he was to grab the switch) Dracula: Please, excuse me. (He opens the door and Sam is there dressed as a Pizza Delivery man) Good evening. Sam: Uh… (looking at Dracula concerned) Pizza Delivery (holds up some pies in reference) Dracula: (looking smug) Ah, you’ve brought a repast. Excellent. Continue to be of such service and your life will be spared. Sam: (Pretending to look annoyed, chewing gum) Uh-huh. (walks into the room to set down the pies and keep distracting Dracula) That’ll be $15.50… (He turns so that Dracula can’t see who sneaks into the ‘Castle’ behind him)

Dracula: (looking concerned at the pizza) Tell me.. Sam: Yeah? Dracula: Is there garlic on this pizza? 

Sam: (monotoned and annoyed) I don’t know. Did you order garlic? Dracula: (looks disgusted) No. Sam: Then no. Look mister, I got four other deliveries to make. You wanna just pay me so I can go? Dracula: Of course. Yes. But I have a coupon. Scene cuts to Dean still bound to the table. Dean: (still trying to break out notices that someone is coming back, thinking it’s Dracula)

Raven is holding up a gun, stalking down the staircase into the room, after scanning to see if it’s clear, she lowers her weapon and races to Dean, who looks relieved at the sight of her. Raven: Well, this is kinky. (She winks and starts pulling at his constraints)

Dean: Oh, thank god. Just in the nick of time. That guy was about to Frankenstien me. (realizes what she said) Wait, really? (they stop trying to break him out and look at each other seductively) 

Raven: (continues to break him out. As Dean stands up.) Remind me later to buy you a suit like this, handsome. (she looks him up and down) Dean: SHUT UP. (he points at her as she chuckles and hands him a knife) Raven: (imitating a song as he walks toward the door) Talk dirty to me. Dean is supposed to keep walking and Raven follows him out, but the piece of improv that you just did, set Jensen ablaze. He turned back around and scooped you up so fast, you didn’t know what was happening. His mouth met yours as he backed you both up to the table he was just on, feeling you up in the process. The scene pans over to the doorway where Sam is standing in his Pizza outfit, holding up a gun. Disgust creeps on his face as he sees what’s unfolding. Sam: AHEM. (he clears his throat)

Raven and Dean turn around and stand quietly. Sam: Raven, you were taking too long, let’s go. (he motions towards the door) Dean: Always a cock block, Sammy. (he pushes him a little as he stalks by, Raven following apologetically behind him) Sam: yeah, well it’s certainly not on purpose, Dean. Remind me to drown those visions from my brain, later. (He says as he trails after them, cutting the scene).

The intensity of your combine improv moment was so electric, that it drew everyone’s focus. The crew watched in rapt attention, the connection between you and Jensen so vivid it’s almost tangible. You can see it in their faces, the realization that this is more than just acting—this was chemistry in its purest form.

"Cut!" the director calls, his face splitting into a wide grin. "That was fantastic! This is chemistry, folks!"

The crew erupts in applause, and you share a look with Jensen, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you’ve forged. It’s more than just a professional connection; it’s something deeper, something that resonates with every word and gesture.

As the day winds down and the set begins to clear, you take a moment to help clean up.Jensen comes up beside you, his presence comforting and steady. "You did great today," he says, his eyes full of warmth.

"Thanks," you reply, feeling a swell of gratitude. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. "So, kinky, huh?" He smirks.

You laugh. “Yeah, about that… Want to go finish what you started?” You pulled him by the shirt closer to you, swaying a little. “What I started? If my memory holds true, you started it on the plane this morning.” He said, thinking and laughing. “I mean, if you don’t want to…” You shrugged, playfully pushing him away. “Just say that.” You turned away from him. He wrapped you in his arms from behind as you squealed a little. “Jensen!” His voice in your ear, warm, and comforting. “I certainly didn’t say THAT.” And he picked you up and walked to his trailer. “But, I don’t know that I’ll last too long tonight.” He chuckled. “Me, either.” You agreed. Both laughing as he shut the door. 

This is your home now, and with Jensen by your side, you’re ready to face whatever comes next.

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 05

"Thanks for letting me stay." "Thanks for staying."

Tagged: @roryculkinluvr Let me know if you want to be tagged in these updates.

SATURDAY, 2:15AM

Y/n looked at herself in the dirty mirror of Clyde's bathroom. The shirt he had given her fell to about the middle of her thigh. She silently wished she had at least worn shorts today so she would be more comfortable sleeping with something on her legs. When she walked out of the bathroom, Clyde had tossed a pillow onto the couch.

"So I can't guarantee the last time I cleaned the sheets but I did just wash the comforter so you should be good to go." Y/n looked over to the bed and realized he was giving up his bed for her.

"Clyde, I can't take your bed. The couch will be fine." Y/n tried to argue but he laughed.

"Trust me, the bed is much safer to sleep on than the couch. Especially if you have your legs exposed." Clyde took in the sight of you in one of the oversized band shirts he kept laying around the apartment.

"I guess I'll take your word for it. I'll make a mental note to burn my jeans once I get home." Y/n teased. Clyde had changed into soft pants but kept the same shirt on. He walked over to the door and made sure she was watching when he locked the door.

"Are you feeling safer already?" Clyde asked running his hand through his hair.

"I should be asking you that. Sorry about the whole...mauling you thing." Y/n could feel the heat in her cheeks and Clyde laughed.

"Mauling me? You sat on my lap. That's hardly grounds for public shaming." Clyde shrugged it off plopping back down on the couch. Y/n sat next to him, feeling much more exposed now that her legs were bare.

"I guess thanks for not holding it against me. I don't do this a lot...ever actually. I haven't spent a night away from my apartment in years, let alone with a guy I met at a club." Y/n explained seeing Clyde smile.

"You don't go home with guys who aren't even in the band to get high and have an impromptu date?" Clyde teased.

"No this is very out of the ordinary. I'm usually working my ass off or visiting my dad." Y/n confessed.

"You seem a little young to be a workaholic." Clyde wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to know what she liked, what she hated, why the hell she had given him the time of day and how he could get her to stay.

"Paying for an apartment and trying to keep my shit a float has been a bit more challenging than I'd like to admit. I wasn't really prepared to support myself at 18 but when you drop out of school and have no where else to go, it's kind of the only option." Y/n didn't like to talk about her home life. She hated when people showed her any sort of pity. She was in control of the decisions she made.

She dropped out of school to take care of her dad. She moved into a shitty apartment with a roommate in order to save money to afford his care facility. She could count on one hand how many people she trusted and confiding in Clyde didn't make a lot of sense to her either but she just felt like she could openly be herself with him.

"Hey dropout twins, let's go!" Clyde held his hand up for a high five and y/n shook her head meeting his hand.

"I'm not sure that's the thing we should have in common but I won't leave you hanging." Y/n laughed.

"Maybe it's not. We both seem to like live music. I don't want to get into favorite bands just yet because I don't want to lose this feeling I currently have." Clyde put his hand over his heart.

"Hey! What makes you think I like shit music? I happen to have a very eclectic taste in music." Y/n defended but Clyde put his finger to his lips.

"I'm not doubting that but we've had such a great first date, why chance it with the possibility of you liking Nickelback?" Clyde joked earning a playful slap to his chest.

"How dare you. Now I'm truly offended. I think I'm going to go see if Johnny will give me a ride-" Clyde reached out and grabbed y/n's hand.

"No no...if you approach Johnny without pants and ask for a ride, you'll definitely get more than you bargained for." Clyde seemed genuinely worried she was going to actually leave but instead she plopped back down next to Clyde, closer than before, him still holding onto her hand.

"If I had my pants on, I'd consider tasering you just for insinuating I was a Nickelback fan." Clyde softened and held your hand between his own, bringing the back of your fingers to his lips.

"My apologies. Thank you for resisting the reoccurring urge to taser me." Clyde's smile was intoxicating. She just wanted to feel his lips pull into a smile against her own.

"You're just lucky you're cute." Y/n tested seeing Clyde blush. She could feel a yawn crawling up her throat as she turned away and Clyde stood up, pulling her by her hands.

"You need to sleep. We can compare playlists tomorrow over breakfast...stale bagels or donuts?" Clyde asked leading her to the bed. She sat down and he tossed her a blanket.

"You know how to spoil a girl." Y/n grinned laying back on the comforter. It smelled of coconut shampoo and cigarettes. It wasn't an awful smell which was surprising. Rarely did she ever find herself surrounded by band guys who smelt halfway decent. Clyde jumped over the back of the couch and let out a heavy sigh.

The two of them laid in perfect silence, trying not to breathe too hard or start snoring randomly. Y/n moved around under the blanket trying to get comfortable and not get caught checking over by the couch where Clyde laid, one leg dangling over the back, arm stretched behind his head. Clyde felt tense. He hadn't ever just had a girl spend the night with him. Snow, Lola and the rest of their friends were different. None of them really looked at him the way y/n seemed to look at him, or flirt with him. He didn't want to make things weird or fuck this up. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to want to stay because of him, not because she was hot for one of the guys.

"Clyde?" Y/n broke the silence.

"Yeah?" He sat up to see her sitting up in the bed.

"Would you be completely opposed to just laying in the bed next to me? I just...its a big bed. There's no point in you sleeping on the couch and I don't want to wake up freaking out in a strange place." Y/n explained and Clyde shook his head.

"Yeah of course. I just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Clyde walked over to the bed and laid down next to her carefully. He let her keep the blanket over herself and put his hand up when she tried to offer it to him. He laid on his side facing her and she smiled at him.

"Thanks for letting me stay." She said softly.

"Thanks for staying." Clyde returned equally as soft. The light in the room was dim but they could still see one another clearly. Y/n reached over and pushed some of Clyde's hair off his face and noticed his hearing aid for the second time this evening.

"How do sleep with your hearing aid in? My grandfather never kept his in to sleep. He said the slightest noises startled him." Y/n brushed her fingertips over the piece and Clyde brought his fingers up to hers.

"Um...I don't usually sleep really well anyway so I just don't bother taking it out." She was right. Clyde never took his aid out when he was sleeping in the apartment. Anyone could just sort of bust in and he never wanted to be caught off guard.

"Have you tried taking it out to sleep? Maybe that's why you can't sleep well." Y/n suggested.

"I used to at my Dad's but not here. You never know who'll sneak up on you." Clyde tried to joke but y/n scooted closer.

"The door is locked. I'm a light sleeper. Why not just taking it out while you have someone here to watch your back?" Clyde was surprised at her offer. No one really cared this much about his lack of sleep, let alone his comfort level.

"No pressure of course. I just...I want you to be able to be as comfortable as I am." Y/n didn't want to push Clyde into doing something he wasn't comfortable with but to her surprise, he leaned over her and removing his aid placing it on the nightstand next to her. She felt the trust he was putting into her by taking his aid out. She put her pinky out and Clyde laughed locking his pinky into hers.

"I gotchu." She mouthed. Clyde laughed shaking his head.

"I'm partially deaf, not completely deaf." He reminded laying back down. The silence that grew between them was so much more peaceful now. Y/n could feel the mattress moving whenever he moved, which wasn't a lot but after a while she could hear his soft snores. She peered over his shoulder and saw his mouth hung open, hair covering his face and his elbow as his arm stayed tucked tightly under his head. She glanced at the clock on her phone that barely had 20% charge on it and saw that it was 3:10 AM. That was the last thing she saw before she passed out, snuggled into a fuzzy blanket and a soft pillow that carried Clyde's scent into her dreams.

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

[thegalaxysedge22]

After Ever (Chapter 5)

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pair: sylus x MC tags/tw: violence, kidnapping, drink spiking, allusions to SA (it doesn’t happen dw), MC makes dumb decisions…repeatedly word count: 4.3k song rec: lilith by halsey a/n: guess who we're meeting hehe PSA ALWAYS KEEP AN EYE ON YOUR DRINKS!!! NEVER DRINK ANYTHING YOU HAVE WALKED AWAT FROM important: if you want to follow this fic and updates but don't want to follow me bc im annoying (understandable) check out the tag #after ever fanfiction also if anyone wants i can start a tag list

I made it, Kore thought to herself.

Standing on the outskirts of the N109 Zone, she had never been so relieved to see crumbling buildings and a street littered with potholes. The journey there had been long. Normal forms of transportation could only take one so far. The dense fog and wanderers that surrounded the N109 Zone like a moat made it difficult for just anybody to enter the city, and without the proper guidance of a local Kore had been stuck traveling on foot through the thick fog and tall grasses of the open fields.

The entire 15 mile trek had been nerve wracking to say the least, the threat of wanderers and criminals was high and had kept Kore on edge the entire time. In an untold stroke of luck, Kore somehow had managed to avoid all wanderers on the perimeter, which was shocking considering how much she had been warned about them. She just hoped that her luck wouldn’t run out now that she had made it into the safety– well, relative safety– of the old city.

In spite of the countless warnings not to go to the N109 Zone, Kore’s drive to find out the truth about what happened to her family as well as the Aether Core in her heart had driven her to come anyway. She knew that if she were to spread the knowledge that she was in possession of an Aether Core that she would end up in contact with the people responsible for what had happened to her, and if she was extra lucky she would meet Sylus, the leader of Onychinus. 

Her surroundings, despite being what she had expected, still shocked her. Everything from discarded furniture to abandoned cars covered the sidewalks, spilling out into the streets. The road was so full of debris that even if a vehicle managed to get through to the N109 Zone, it would struggle to navigate the outskirts of the territory - effectively leaving people trapped and isolated.  Needles littered the ground so much so that she had to watch her steps. Never had she ever seen something like this.

But for now she needed to change. She had been wearing her Hunter’s Association uniform in anticipation of fighting wanderers, but now that she was in the N109 Zone that uniform would surely stick out like a sore thumb.

Just last night Xavier had told her what he knew about the N109 Zone, albeit begrudgingly. He had informed her that she couldn’t just waltz in wearing her uniform as people there did not like the Hunter’s Association, as well as the locals’ tendency to open carry weapons.

Kore started to scout out nearby buildings, finding one near the border that clearly had used to be an apartment building of sorts. She took off her backpack happily as her shoulders had been aching for the past several hours. Setting the bag on the ground she rummaged through its contents finding her “incognito” outfit, which in reality was just a normal outfit with gun holsters, and quickly put it on.

The finer details of her plan may have been underdeveloped so to speak, even though she had combed through them multiple times, but she knew what to do next. She took a map she had printed out of her backpack, one of the very few she had been able to find, she then compared her location to her next objective. After spending a few minutes memorizing the way there while grabbing whatever supplies she might need, Kore decided to return later that night to sleep and left her excess gear hidden in a cabinet.

. _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ .

Navigating through streets in a place you’ve never been to without a map, relying only on memory of a street view map from decades earlier turned out to be a bit difficult. Kore was stuck at an intersection trying to remember which way to go. Her sense of direction had never been this abysmal before, her only solace was that the street signs were either demolished or so covered in graffiti they were impossible to read.

A crow squawked as it landed on an electrical wire in the alleyway above her, snapping her focus back into the moment. Right, it was a right here, Kore thought. She went right. As she grew closer the buildings surrounding her went from being in various stages of decay - windows boarded up and what she assumed were gang signs spray painted on every vertical surface - to buildings that clearly were still in use. Hints of light started to illuminate the street, showcasing the businesses that still remained, a convenience store, a liquor store, a mechanic’s garage, and even a tailor. Even though the sun had fully set a half hour ago, she saw a few people who were roaming the sidewalks off to who knows where. 

This was different from the N109 Zone she had read about, this wasn’t some dilapidated place with violence on every corner, it was clear that this was still a community that people cared about. The streets were much cleaner than they were prior, swapping the furniture for cigarette buds and the occasional scrap of cardboard.

After walking a few more blocks the increasing sounds of chatter let her know she was close, but what solidified the fact she had made it was the sign outside of the free standing building, The Nest.

The Nest was a bar deemed to be neutral territory by the cartels, even though it was technically run by Onychinus. The limited reports suggested that if there was a perfect place to plant information about an Aether Core this was it. Of course she couldn’t just walk in there and announce that she had one of the most sought after possessions in the entire zone on her body, even if it was in her heart. No, she had to be a bit more discreet than that.

Kore stopped for a moment and took a deep breath then pulled the door open. Inside she was met with the looks, and smells, of an old bar. Men were scattered throughout the room, she could count on one hand how many other women were in there. Kore does her best to match the mannerisms of the other patrons, however, it was clear to them that she was an outsider. She was a new face that nobody knew.

She took her time strolling over to the counter. Taking a seat, she waved down a bartender and got herself a cheap beer. Kore keeps her head down but listens intently to the chatter across the bar. Most of it is nonsense, drunk men drabbling on about nonsense. Some were clearly discussing something to do with the cartels, Onychinus’s name was even brought up a few times. However, what caught her attention was talk of an upcoming auction, in her research Kore had found out that these auctions were often places where protocores would be sold.

Bingo, she thought, if the aether core was going to be anywhere, it would be at that auction. And if not at least she will be one step closer to finding it. With any luck Onychinus would be there. Before she could close in on more information a conversation nearby peaked her curiosity.

“Did you hear? Sylus is back?” a random patron gossiped. Her ears perked up at the name.

“Sylus? From Onychinus? I thought he left for good, didn’t Sherman take his place?” his friend responded.

“Well, he’s back and I heard he is going to take Sherman and his men down at the auction. Also- I also heard,” the drunk patron hiccuped, “I heard that he found one of them aether cores while he was away.”

“An aether core?” Kore said out loud.

“Yes missy, an aether core, I didn’t even know if they were real, they are so rare.” Both men turned to her as he spoke.

“Well they can’t be that rare if I have one,” Kore joked, regretting it immediately. Clapping her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, she whispered “Oh shit, I was not supposed to say that.” Zayne had warned her about letting that piece of information get out and it was not like she could blame the drink she hadn’t had a sip of for her slip of tongue.

The eyes of the two patrons she was talking to went wide. She could also tell that she had pulled the gaze of a few other people nearby with that. Realizing that she had fucked up big time, Kore quickly went for the exit. 

Paranoid, and probably for good reason, she kept checking over her shoulder as she walked. She took four left turns to see that she wasn’t being followed. Although the coast seemed to be clear it was not enough for her. 

She ran towards the nearest building, climbing up its stairs to its roof top, the entire time scolding herself for letting that crucial part of information slip. It was times like these that her hunter’s skills came in handy. The streets were much easier to navigate from way up there, it was more similar to the maps that she had studied back in the city.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop she slowly made her way to where she had left her stuff earlier. She even jumped right next to a crow, sending it flying. Eventually she arrived at her destination. The first thing she did was check that all of her stuff was still there (it was), then she checked the time on her Hunter’s Watch.

The damn thing didn’t seem to work out here, but at least it still functioned as a clock. It was more than late enough in the evening to justify going to sleep, deciding that this was as good of a place as any. 

Kore stripped down to her undergarments, turning her clothes into a makeshift pillow before pulling out a thin blanket from her bulky bag - that was definitely not suited to be a pillow, too lumpy - and bunkered down for the night. 

It must’ve been nerves that were keeping her awake into the early hours of the morning, but the noise certainly didn’t help. For a place so abandoned it was much noisier than Likon City ever was at night. Wind whipped through the alleyways and into the broken windows of the building, and the animals in the N109 Zone clearly must’ve been nocturnal with the rate they are scurrying about. She tossed and turned for seemingly hours before finally being graced with unconsciousness.

. _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ .

It was nearly midday when Kore awoke, but you wouldn’t be able to tell with the lack of light. Having had some time to think about over the night before she had decided, perhaps foolishly, that it was okay that she let information about having an aether core slip. With any luck, something she was praying for, word would have gotten out about it and the people that she was looking for would come and find her. At least, that was the plan…

Outside was clouded in overcast, it was just another dreary day for the N109 Zone, something that seemed to be typical to the area. Anxiety started to bubble up in the pit of Kore’s stomach, a fear of no one taking the bait or a fear of not completing her mission were to blame, but she wasn’t sure which one. 

Luckily, her half-baked plan seemed to be working. Practically as soon as Kore had entered the Nest she felt a cold gaze following her every move. On her way there a thought had struck her, and when she walked in to see a bartender drying cups she was relieved.

Immediately she made her way over to the barkeep and plopped down in the stool in front of him. He looked up at her leaning against the bar and asked what he could get for her. She told the man to only give her non-alcoholic drinks, but to serve them in a pint glass - he didn’t even bat an eye at the unusual request, she wondered if this was a common tactic in the N109 Zone.

While downing the non-alcoholic beer She was doing her best to play it cool and seem non threatening and clueless, and also drunk. If you must fight, it is best for your enemy to underestimate your abilities, her grandmother’s words rang true in her head. She was ordering her third pint of beer loudly, hoping that the empty cups would put whoever was watching her at ease and draw them out. 

Eventually the person watching her emerged from the shadows and she had to resist the urge to smile in triumph. The man came over to her and sat down next to her casually, ordering a drink. He turned to Kore with a smile that she assumed was supposed to be charming but it came off more as revolting. His appearance overall unsettled her, he looked scrappy and sinister, there was something evil in the depths of his dark eyes.

For whatever reason, the man decided that his best course of action was to flirt with her. As he spoke she couldn’t help but wonder if there were different beauty standards in the N109 Zone because she could not see this working out for the man ever any other way, which she felt bad about thinking as soon as it crossed her mind.

The conversation between the two continued its flirtatious path for a while, too long for Kore’s liking, before the topic of the protocore trade was brought up. The man insisted that he was a well known seller- despite looking ragged in a dingey bar- and he was looking into buying more of the rare kind. 

It was then that Kore’s pint had run dry and he jumped at the chance to buy her a drink, a potent cocktail. The bartender raised an eyebrow seemingly asking if that would be okay with her, a nice gesture certainly but Kore was still a bundle of nerves and worried that he would blow her cover. As covertly as she could she signaled back that it was okay, the barkeep shrugged and made the drink then and there, sliding the cocktail across the bar to her.

Kore took a few small sips of the drink holding back the urge to wince from the strength of the alcohol. The creepy man looked very pleased with himself now that she was drinking it. Deeply concerning to her, but she needed to play along. Before she could dwell on that any longer the unnamed man said what they were both waiting for.

“Have you ever heard about aether cores?” he asked, finally bringing up the topic that 

“Don’t tell anyone this,” Kore said, forcing her face to blush. She leaned in closer to the man, “but I actually have one.”

Out of all the creepy smiles she had seen that man make all night, the way he smiled upon hearing that was the most haunting. Before she could dwell on that image, mother nature started calling and she excused herself to the restroom.

Her entire journey there she kept an eye on the person she left behind and saw him fiddling with a small vial nervously. The bartender must've seen that too because he took her drink and pulled it close to him, keeping it in his sight and out of the creep’s reach.

In the bathroom she tried to calculate the next best move. If he offered to take her somewhere she wasn’t sure what would happen. On one hand he looked weak enough that she could take him in a 1v1 if it came down to that, but on the other there is always the risk of more people being involved. She also knew that he likely had ties to at least one of the cartels and she needed to climb that totem pole to get to her target, so going with him might be the fastest way for her to gather intel, however, she couldn’t decide if she could go through with that.

Hands on the sink, she stared herself down in the mirror for quite some time. She couldn’t lose her nerve now, it was much too late for that. Besides, she had always been the type of person to just wing it and so far it hasn’t failed her yet. Kore possessed an incredible gut instinct and had all of her life, it frequently saved her when she was out in the field fighting wanderers. She just had a gut feeling that she would come out of this alright, well mostly, all she had to do was listen to her gut. With one last reassuring glance in the mirror, Kore walked back into the bar.

On her way back to her seat, Kore spotted the creep she had been with all night leaning far across the bar when the bar keep had his back turned to the man. She knew what he was doing. This isn’t good, she thought to herself. 

Forcing herself to plaster on a fake smile, Kore sat back down, the bartender sliding her back her drink. The drink that she watched get spiked. Looking back between the man and the drink, the wheels in her brain turned, weighing the consequences of her next actions.

“Something wrong?” the man asked, an anticipatory smile adorning his face.

“It’s nothing,” she waved him off. Stupidly, she refused to let go of her earlier resolve, Kore eyed the drink with skepticism before throwing it back. She tried to be mindful of how much she consumed but the alcohol from earlier was clouding her judgment.

Whatever he put in there hit her hard and fast, she barely noticed her leading her out of the bar and towards a car. She could feel the rain coating her face outside. With each step she was dragged along for she could feel herself sinking more and more until she eventually collapsed on the street. . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ .

Her head hurt. Kore’s thoughts were all jumbled as she came to. She found herself trapped in the back of a musty trunk with her hands tied. Everything is hazy and confusing and it felt almost out of body but different, as if the body she was out of wasn’t even hers to begin with. 

Just as she was about to pull the emergency release latch, the trunk opened on its own accord. It was dark enough out that her eyes didn’t need much adjusting to understand the picture in front of her. Looming over her was the man from the bar, the one who spiked her drink. He was now wearing a dark baseball cap, as if he believed that would hide his identity should anyone come looking.

She recognizes where she was at, the kidnaper stopped outside of an old abandoned graveyard. How thematic, Kore thinks, if this is my end at least I won't have to go very far. 

The man yanked her out of the car, and she crumpled to the ground, unable to hold her own weight. She had made a dangerous miscalculation. She had grossly underestimated whatever drug the man slipped to her. Realizing, finally, just how dangerous of a situation she was in, Kore started to panic.

What is this man going to do to me? What has he already done? Oh god I’m fucked. This was a bad idea. I should've listened to Xavier or pretended to drink what he spiked at least. 

The man, seeing his victim squirm like that, smiled dementedly. Crouching down to her height, waving his gun in her face he said, “Don’t worry princess I ain’t touch you yet. I got no time for that now. Now hand over the aether core and this will all be over.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a trail of thick black smoke appeared, closing in on them. The man looked as if someone had struck the fear of god into him, as if he knew what was coming next. 

“Kidnapping Onychinus’s prey without letting us know…” a disembodied voice trailed off, “...That’s not exactly polite now is it?” The voice taunted. Kore’s kidnapper was rapidly turning his head at every faint noise he heard.

“She’s ours,” another, slightly similar but distinct voice said, “We called dibs a long time ago.”

With that, two figures emerged from the smoke… that was now also red? Kore was confused, she must’ve been seeing things. As the two silhouettes came into view she noticed odd bird looking masks covering their faces. 

“You know, you’re pretty bold for releasing information about the aether core in the nest like that,” one of them started, addressing her.

“Explains why boss is interested,” the other one finished the train of thought. Creepy. 

“I see… Sylus sent you,” Kore’s kidnapper said, putting on a brave face, but with the way his voice was quivering he wasn’t fooling anyone. He trained his gun onto the two of them, going back and forth between them. “But the aether core is MINE!”

Just like that the man was lifted in the air by the oddly colored smoke, his gun falling to the ground.  His fighting was useless as it only seemed to anger the smoke, if that was even possible, and it slowly enveloped him.

What the actual fuck is going on here? Kore thought to herself.

Another figure bloomed from the smoke. This was of a tall man with white hair. The two guys from earlier were nowhere to be seen. This new man approached her with slow and steady steps. Kore knew things were out of hand and worse yet she could feel consciousness slipping away from her.

Oh fuck, I am not as in control of this situation as I thought I would be. Desperate, she reached for the gun that fell pointing it at him. This man had the audacity to laugh at a gun pointed at his head.

“Is this how you greet a new friend?” he asked, his voice low and dark. The mystery man reached down and plucked the gun from Kore’s weakened hands. Fuck, this drug is affecting me a lot worse that I thought, Kore thought bitterly to herself.

Kore, who was fighting tooth and nail to stay conscious, glared up at the man. A head splitting pain wracked through her skull as they made eye contact, the man grabbing ahold of her upper arm and pulling her to her feet.

“You-you’re here for the core too, huh?” Kore slurred out. 

“What else would I be after, Kitten?” the man asked with a sick smile. 

Black spots started to appear in her field of vision and Kore knew she wasn’t going to last. The last thing she heard was a shot ringing out as she fell to the ground and her eyes fluttered closed. . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ . _ .

When she was asleep like this, her child-like innocence on display, it was clear to Sylus that she was the same girl he had known growing up. Her features were more angular now and her hair was darker than he remembered, but this was definitely the same Kore.

Her once sickly pale skin now showed healthy signs of sunlight, he was glad to know that she had been able to truly escape the hell they grew up in, but that didn’t stop the bitterness deep in his gut. After all this time he wasn’t sure why Kore and Caleb got to escape while he was left behind.

He had never been close to her when they were younger, no, he had been closer to Caleb instead. The pair of them had been nearly inseparable during their formative years whenever they were allowed to interact with one another. A strange mix of emotions had overtaken him over the past few days, it made him antsy and irritable.

On occasion he had spent hours sitting at her bedside and staring at her in disbelief. Other times anger had consumed him so thoroughly that he could not stand to look at her or even be in the same wind as she was. It was in those times that he had the twins watching over her.

Sylus had always wondered what had happened to Caleb after he left, and to a lesser extent Kore too. When he got word that Josephine was the one who took them in, he decided to spare her from his wrath, deciding maybe she wasn’t so bad afterall. The others had not been so lucky.

There was also the matter of the unusual attraction he had felt towards the sleeping woman, it was like a magnetic pull that he hadn’t experienced before. He knew that she was also the unwelcoming recipient of an aether core fragment, but couldn’t help but wonder if they shared parts of the same core. There was only one way to know for certain, they had to resonate, but there was no way to do that while she was unconscious, so for now the answer was stuck in a waiting game.

He wondered if she had any memory of him or if she knew about the aether core planted inside of her at all. He wasn’t sure how he would react in either case. Would he be happy that someone else could relate to his suffering? Would he be sad that she was cursed with remembering too? Would he be bitter if she didn’t remember him at all or would he be relieved that she had been spared the memory of their traumatic childhoods?

He sat at his desk, toying with a paper weight, lost deep in his thoughts when Mephisto alerted him that his next victim had arrived. Sylus let out a bored sigh before following the mechanical bird into the throne room. He had always found it to be a bit tacky, but it was important to keep appearances up if he wanted to accomplish his goal.

a/n: did you guys see that one coming? also i don't really proof read so lmk if anything sounds insane pls

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