#I made so much content on it and yet restrained to post it for so long

[notmyneighbor]

resistance - doppel francis mosses x female reader

part 1/?

words | 4.4k

cw | eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter. post nightmare mode lore reveal setting.

summary | You work as a secretary for the DDD, a well paying job that offers you an extra sense of security and safety.

Until you meet a doppelganger on the run after work one day, an imposter that defies everything you’ve ever known about these monsters and makes you question whether the organization that employs you isn’t the real deceiver.

taglist | @jazminetoad @uhnanix @fangwh0r3 @zenxvii

ao3 link

You’d seen a doppelganger once.

Not up close; but nearby, from the balcony of your apartment. It had been raining earlier that evening. There were puddles of water everywhere, reflecting the light of the streetlamps, mirroring the clear night sky. A beautiful, peaceful scene, until you’d noticed the vans bearing the DDD logo approach the lone figure walking below. You’d instinctively stepped back into the interior of your living space, keeping to the shadows. The cleaners, as they are called, had blocked the doppel’s path with their trucks, with dozens of men clad in yellow hazmat suits. You’d heard boots splashing, shouting. Then silence. There is never any gunfire. You still don’t know how they dispatch of the replicants. But it is always neatly done. There are never any bodies. No lingering evidence. The suited men had departed as fast as they’d arrived. You’d stepped back onto the balcony to peer at the street below.

You could no longer see the stars reflected there, the pools of rainwater scattered.

***

The doppel’s eyes open.

He can’t see the faces of the humans that took him—they’re still encased in the hazmat suits that both protect them from being replicated and shield their identities. They’re standing a short distance away, hovering near the side of the room, making way for yet another human, this one not disguised, no gear encasing him. He approaches and immediately the doppelganger does not like him. There is an arrogant swagger to his walk, a cruel glint in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses. The replicant tries to move, testing his bonds, and finds he’s been completely restrained.

The cocky man wearing the loose fitting, unbuttoned labcoat reaches the captive doppel and rakes a hand through his dark hair. There is a badge on a lanyard around his neck, bearing the DDD logo and the name Dr. W. Afton. “You almost made it inside. You’re a dead ringer for Francis Mosses. So what did you forget? Missing documents? Bad forgeries?”

The doppel frowns, his struggles slowing as the man addresses him. “Neither.”

“Where’s his paperwork?” This now directed at the two suited figures. One hands him a clear plastic bag where the clone’s ID card and entry request had been confiscated and stored inside. The doctor snatches it from the gloved hand and extracts both items, studying each before tossing them and the bag on a steel table nearby.

“These are flawless imitations as well. So I’ll ask again: Why did you get caught?”

“I don’t know.”

Afton sighs. “Do you have any idea how much money has been invested in this program? How much time and effort, how much sacrifice? It makes the Manhattan Project look like child’s play in comparison.”

The doppelganger doesn’t understand what the researcher is lamenting. He has only a rudimentary understanding of human finances. He has no idea what project he’s referring to. But he can read body language well enough, and he recognizes the anger and frustration that is bubbling just beneath the seemingly calm exterior.

“Now we’re back to square one. If you can’t even infiltrate an apartment building, how the hell are you going to invade enemy lines? Damn near worthless,” the man in the labcoat growls.

The doppel grits his teeth, renewing his attempts at escaping his bonds. He doesn’t like humans on principal, and he especially doesn’t like the one standing in front of him, insulting his kind. He wouldn’t even waste time eating him; tearing him to pieces would be satisfaction enough. He tries to shed the human disguise he’s adopted to reveal his true form beneath, to have sharp teeth and claws at the ready, alarmed when he’s unable to do so.

The doctor smiles, and the doppelganger freezes again. It is not a friendly gesture. “You’ve been given a suppressant, so don’t bother trying to change back. As for the other…I understand now. You’ve got a temper. That’s why you failed. If you’d been able to control your emotions for a few moments longer, you would’ve achieved your goal. Well, that can be adjusted. Maybe you aren’t a complete failure after all.” He turns towards his two suited coworkers. “Wipe him, and then I’ll have the team make the necessary adjustments and we’ll send him back out.”

One of the pair nods in acknowledgment and Afton departs from the room, the hem of the oversized white coat fluttering behind him. The doppelganger doesn’t know exactly what he’d meant by ‘wipe’, but he has a sneaking suspicion, and it fills him with a cold dread. Memory erasure, perhaps. His artifically created mind once again a blank slate, a naked canvas to work on. He won’t remember any of this.

He’s trying to escape for a different purpose now, attack no longer his priority, but it makes no difference. Something metallic is shoved against the side of his neck, there is a hiss of sound as something discharges, shooting into his circulatory system, and then his vision goes dark, granting him passage into oblivion.

***

You’re working late.

You don’t mind as much as you might otherwise have, because you are earning overtime. There are more and more sealed documents for you to file every day; more and more people to contact. The doppels were spreading like a virus, in spite of the efforts of the organization you’re employed by.

By now the fear is something that still lingers, but people have grown somewhat accustomed to it, going about their daily routines. Just as life had gone on during the most recent world war. Beyond your control, so your only choice was to adapt to the new normal. To men leaving and dying to protect freedom, to preserve the lives of their countrymen. Waiting for an end. Hoping for victory. It wasn’t so different with the doppelgangers; it was just that the fight was on native soil now, with both doppels and humans fighting for survival and supremacy.

You don’t recall exactly when the government run organization had come into existence; only that the DDD had mobilized fairly quickly after the news of the replicants had spread. The details had always been vague on where the doppelgangers had come from, but the general consensus was that they’d invaded from another planet. You’re not sure you believe that, but it’s also difficult to accept that there are monsters capable of wearing the face of a friend or family member, so maybe that explanation was as good as any other.

Regardless, you’ve done your secretarial job for several months now, with the added bonus of residing in a DDD guarded building. There are no guarantees of safety, of course, but it does make you feel a little more secure. The building you work in is massive; you’ve never even seen most of its interior. You’re simply relegated to an office near the entrance, one that is openly guarded, with men carrying actual weapons. Another level of safety. You’ve never witnessed an incident, never seen any type of a break in, save one overzealous news team that wanted to come in for an exclusive scoop, but that had only happened once. You’ve since seen interviews on television, prerecorded, likely scripted. Stating facts that everyone already knew. Most things still shrouded in secrecy.

Still, the DDD is keeping you safe and at the end of the day that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? You stow the last folder and switch off the desk lamp. Your work is finally finished. It’s time to go home.

You nod to the guards on the way out as you exit the building, settling your handbag over your shoulder, your ID badge tucked away, car keys in hand. It’s a beautiful evening, the season just edging towards summer. You’ll need to switch out your wardrobe soon, exchanging sweaters and wool skirts for cooler blouses and flowing dresses. The employee parking lot is a massive affair, extending far past the structure you’ve just vacated. There are still a large number of vehicles parked there. The building operated around the clock.

You finally reach your car and insert the key into the lock, momentarily distracted as you’re contemplating what you’re going to make for dinner when you get home, when you hear a voice, a low, masculine rumble, directly behind you.

“Go around to the other side and unlock the door.”

You turn to see a familiar face crouched down between the cars. The handsome, perpetually tired looking milkman from the apartment building you both live in.

Except it’s not him. Not really. You don’t need to see his ID card or entry request to know it. There’s a look in his eyes that his placid, real counterpart doesn’t have.

This is a doppelganger.

You glance past him back at the building. You’re nowhere near the entrance. No one else is around at the moment. You’re on your own.

You carefully thread the keys on the ring clutched in your hand between each finger so the jagged metal edges peek between the spaces, your fist tightening. Not the ideal weapon, but it was all you could come up with on such short notice.

“Sure,” you say, turning slowly. “I’m happy to give you a lift.” You attempt a smile, your arm striking out.

Utter failure. You’ve scratched his cheek, but that’s all. The doppel stands upright, looming over you, one hand absently touching the injury, the beads of ruby dotting his fingertips regarded for a brief moment before his eyes glare at you. “Don’t try that again, or I’ll kill you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You need me to escape.” It’s beyond foolish to try to barter with a replicant, but you’re feeling strangely brave. “I doubt you know how to drive a car.”

“I’m a fast learner,” he growls, grabbing your upper arm, and some of your bravado vanishes. “Unlock the other door, and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” You try to shake him off but his grip is like iron. You have no choice but to let yourself be maneuvered to the other side of the vehicle, completing his request.

“Don’t do anything but get behind the wheel. If you try to make a run for it to get help, I will kill you.”

“I understand.” He releases you, settling inside the car, and you loop around, hoping someone will make an appearance and come to your rescue. But there’s no one. Not a soul. You sit down and shut the door, slotting the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think? The apartments.”

You shake your head. “What is it with you doppels and that building? I don’t understand why it has such a rep—” You hear an alarm, audible even inside the car, your words abruptly halted. Your eyes meet the mimic’s.

“They’re looking for me. Drive, now.”

“They know you’re here?”

“Drive,” he says again, his fingers clamping on your arm again. “Or—”

“—Yes, I know,” you interrupt. “You’ll kill me. I’m going. I need my arm to shift gears.”

The imitation milkman relaxes his grip, allowing you to reverse the car out of the parking space and out of the lot just in time before you see a flurry of activity behind you: armed guards and men in hazmat suits, prowling around between the parked automobiles.

Francis’ doppelganger slinks further down in his seat, swiping absently at the cut you’ve inflicted, his eyes warily focused on the passing scenery outside the windows.

You debate about just going to the police, but again, you’d be gambling with time. You know how swiftly the doppels can kill. You’re not even sure if regular bullets would be effective. In any case, you’d probably never make it out of the car. Your only chance was behind you, growing further and further away the more distance your car traveled. So close. You’d been so close to rescue.

“So what were you doing lurking around a DDD facility?” You start to lower the driver’s side window, but his hand is gripping you again.

“Don’t touch anything. Just keep driving.”

“I was just trying to let some fresh air in.”

“Don’t,” he repeats again. You nod and his fingers drop from your upper extremity. “I don’t know why I was there. I woke up, and I escaped. I don’t remember all the details. I think I was given something to make me forget.”

You squirm in your seat. “Wait, you’re saying you came from inside the building? It doesn’t make sense. The DDD kills doppels. It doesn’t collect them.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “It’s like parts of my memory have been erased. I can’t remember how I got there.”

“How did you get out?”

“They didn’t check all the restraints when they were transferring me. One of them was loose. Pretended to still be knocked out. They believed it. That’s all I needed.”

“But the security. You couldn’t have just waltzed out.”

“That’s what they were expecting, yes. Guarding the doors. Not the roof, though. Stairs on the outside made it easy.”

“The fire escape,” you murmur. There had to be a rather sizeable distance between the top floor and the roof, but perhaps the doppels weren’t bothered by such things. It was clever, really. He was resourceful, if nothing else.

Your palms feel sweaty against the steering wheel. “So what’s going to happen when we get back to the apartments?”

He glances over at you. “What do you think? I’m going in.”

“And then what?”

“And then…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just stay there for awhile. Plan my next move.”

“I doubt Francis is going to want a doppel roommate.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about that. I’ll be staying with you.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy! I’m not going to harbor a fugitive doppelganger.”

“You can go about your daily activities. I won’t interfere.”

You’ve reached your destination. You park the car, killing the engine. “You’re not even going to make it inside the building without…paperwork,” you say the last softly as he withdraws documents that have been tucked into one pocket.

“You know there’s something strange going on inside that building.”

You hesitate. You’ve never doubted the organization you work for; and yet, this replicant, belonging to a species who exists solely based on its ability to deceive, seems sincere, as foolish as that sounds. They could be the words of a desperate creature, but they don’t feel like that. The dark eyes that watch you look guileless.

He could have torn you to pieces already if he’d wanted to. He could still do it right now, but he’s making no violent moves against you. So that couldn’t really be his goal.

Your surprise yourself when you nod. “There are going to be rules. Boundaries. I’m not going to walk out of the shower and have you perving on me,” you mutter.

His lips twitch, his features softening, reminding you more of the human he’s trying to imitate. “Believe me, I have no interest in anything of that regard. I’m simply looking for a place to shelter.”

“If the doorman doesn’t let you in…”

“They will.”

“You can’t go in there looking like that.” You dig a packet of tissues from your purse, handing him several. “You’re going to have to spit on it, try to scrub some of the blood…yeah, like that.” The scratches are still there after he runs the moistened material over his cheek, but at least it’s no longer streaked and spattered in crimson. “I guess that’s going to have to do. You ready?”

He crumples the stained tissues inside his fist. “I’m ready.”

***

The doppelganger knows the documents are going to pass effortlessly.

The real question is whether the doorman is going to buy his act. He has to explain the cuts on his face now. Any deviation of appearance is an immediate red flag.

You’ve got a bit of a spark in you that’s surprising, he thinks. He hadn’t been expecting you to try to defend yourself, as pointless as that activity had been. You might be employed by that hated organization, but you’re not completely blindsided by their authority. There’s a slight tinge of doubt, and he’s begun worrying that crack open a little wider.

You’ve already gone through, and now it’s his turn to pass inspection. He presents the documents and readies a smile.

“Out late, aren’t you Francis?”

“Long route today,” he replies, forcing his fingers to remain still, his claws sheathed.

“I hear that. Work hours get longer every day, but I don’t seem to be getting any richer.” The doorman slides the card back through the metal slot at the base of the window as the false milkman smiles indulgently. “What happened to your face?”

“Oh,” he says. “One of the new houses on my route has a very unfriendly cat. I made the mistake of trying to pet it. Won’t try that again.” He gives a self deprecating chuckle and the doorman winces in sympathy.

“You gotta be careful. You never know these days. Thing could be rabid. Don’t even need to worry about the doppels; got enough trouble with everything else. Cats,” he mutters, pushing the buzzer to grant the doppel entrance. “Hope you have a good evening, Francis. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”

“Will do. Have a good one.” The doppelganger walks casually through the entrance and sighs when the door shuts behind him. You’re waiting by the elevator, arms folded across your chest, looking nervous.

“You made it through,” you whisper in what sounds like a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I told you. Now let’s get to your apartment before we run into anyone else.”

You press the button to call the elevator and the doors slide apart. The doppel follows you inside. You reside on the top floor, at the end of the hall. He glances down the length of that corridor while you fumble the key in the lock. At last the door opens and he ducks inside, heaving another sigh of relief. Safe, for now.

You set your handbag down on the living room couch, watching as he walks around the apartment.

“Sure, make yourself at home, have a look around. Geez,” you mutter.

“It’s small,” the copycat observes, noting there is a single bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen in addition to the living room.

“It’s all I need. I’m single.” You sound a little offended.

The replicant twitches aside the drapes covering the sliding glass doors that lead onto a narrow balcony. He peers similarly out of all of the windows.

“What are you doing?” Exasperated, now.

“Checking for points of egress. In case of an emergency.”

“Oh.”

“It’ll do,” he declares, tossing the milkman’s cap on the kitchen counter and scrubbing his hair.

“Glad it meets with your approval.” You pause. “I could have ratted you out to the doorman, you know. I might not have survived, but he would’ve been safe behind the barrier. He’d have called the DDD.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Your lips part but you seem hesitant to speak. “I don’t know.” You inhale deeply. “So, about those rules.”

“Yes?”

“My bedroom, off limits. You’ll sleep on the couch. Or hibernate or whatever you do. I don’t know.”

“Agreed.”

“No answering the phone or the door. No using the stove. I don’t want you burning the place down. And you can’t make a lot of noise. I don’t want anyone knowing you’re here.”

“I don’t want anyone knowing I’m here, either. See how neatly our goals align?”

“Whatever.” You drum polished nails on the counter. “You can’t go in the bathroom when I’m in there, either. I’ll be locking the door.”

“Fine.”

“Do you even take showers? Bathe?”

“Of course. We do everything you humans do. Nearly.”

“Right.” Your fingers still. “Well, I don’t know, I guess that’s everything I can think of off the top of my head. I’m going to make dinner. I don’t know what you eat.”

“We have preferences, as I’m sure you do. Meat is obviously most favorable,” he says, his grin wolfish. “But anything will suffice for now.”

“Fine.” You reach for your apron, tying it around your waist before washing your hands. You begin rummaging around in the cupboards and regierator, then turn back to face him. “You’re not going to just stand there and watch me, are you?”

“What else am I supposed to do? How am I going to learn?”

“I’m not a culinary instructor.” You glare at him, then sigh. “You can cut vegetables, I guess.”

“You trust me with a blade?” He raises an eyebrow, then laughs at your expression, an honest gesture of amusement. “That was an attempt at humor. I’m not going to use a knife on you. My claws are likely much sharper anyway.”

“That wasn’t funny. And that’s not reassuring.” A strand of hair falls loose across your cheek as you arrange things on the counter, and he impulsively reaches for it, securing it behind your ear. You look sharply at him. “New rule. Don’t touch me. Ever.”

“Alright,” he agrees.

***

The doppelganger is not, as it turns out, a fan of vegetables.

He makes short work of the meatloaf, though, and even seems to enjoy the dessert you offer, a piece of the cake you’d made the evening before.

You’ve never had a visitor to the apartment, not once. This is the first time the other chair across from yours has been occupied. There’s a definite tension between the two of you. You don’t trust your guest, but you suppose he doesn’t really trust you, either. You’re natural born enemies, both capable of causing each other's demise, just in different ways.

After dinner the doppel surprisingly helps you clear the table and tidy the kitchen. You wonder how much of it is just a game to him; a kind of self challenge to better imitate natural human behavior. You offer him the use of the shower first but he politely declines, insisting you should indulge before him. It’s more than a little nerve wracking, knowing that creature was on the other side of the door, locked or not. You knot your robe tightly over your nightgown when you’ve finished washing. You don’t have anything clean for him to wear. Something you’ll have to try to figure out tomorrow.

You drape a sheet over the couch and tuck a spare pillow into a fresh case from the linen closet, adding a throw to the end in case he needed it. You have no idea, absolutely zero clue why you’re even doing this. It was so, so dangerous.

You hear the doppel’s footsteps in the hall. He’s wearing just his undershirt and briefs, and you look away, cheeks flushing. “You’re all set up. I’ll shut the light off on my way by.”

“Thank you.”

You blink. Gratitude. Not something you’d expected. You’re more baffled than ever. This replicant defies everything you’ve ever known about the doppelgangers.

“Goodnight, Francis. Do I call you Francis? I don’t…” Suddenly you’re backpedaling, thinking you’ve made an error, possibly insulted him.

But the doppel doesn’t seem upset. “Yes. That’s who I am, now.”

You stare at the smudged undereyes and the crooked nose, every detail of your milkman neighbor so perfectly replicated. “That’s who you’re pretending to be,” you clarify softly. “Make sure you keep that cut on your cheek clean, so you don’t get an infection.”

”Wouldnt that be preferable? If I met my demise, without you even having to lift a finger?” You frown, remaining silent. “You look better like this. Natural, without all of that paint on,” he murmurs, his hand lifting and then dropping sharply as if he’d needed to remind himself about your rule not to be touched.

”There’s nothing wrong with wearing makeup. It’s expected. Professional,” you add.

”If you say so. I still prefer this instead.”

”I’m not doing it because you like or don’t like it. That’s irrelevant.” You don’t know why the comment is making you react so strongly.

The imposter shrugs. ”Of course.”

The sudden silence stretches and you turn away. Even after you’ve shut the lamp off, you feel his eyes watching you retreat down the hall.

***

You wake up thirsty.

You lean over and switch on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting at the clock. Only one in the morning. You still had a long night ahead.

You try to swallow. Dry as the desert. It’s no use. You need a drink of water.

You shift the top sheet and swing your legs over the side of the bed, then rise and pad over to the door, trying to turn the lock silently, keeping your footsteps stealthy. You don’t want to wake the doppelganger up.

You’re able to find your way in the dark, keeping a hand on the wall, then feeling for the kitchen counter, fingers automatically shifting to count the cabinet doors until you reach the cupboard with the glasses. You softly open the door and lift the faucet, filling the glass. You’ve just taken your first sip when you hear the doppel’s voice from the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I needed some water.” You enter the other room, finding the milkman’s clone standing in front of the sliding doors, one edge of the drapes held back, peering outside.

“You shouldn’t do that. What if someone sees you?” You switch the lamp on and he drops the curtain, his gaze now focused on you.

Suddenly you realize you’ve neglected to put your robe on. You’re only wearing a sleeveless nightdress, the material thin and flimsy. You fold your arms in front of you, taking random sips of water, trying to act casual.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because you are incredibly noisy. I could hear you in the other room down the hall.”

“I was trying to be quiet.”

“And failing.”

You can’t help but feel a bit insulted. And it’s silly, really. You aren’t the uninvited fugitive alien-monster-thing staying in someone’s home. “Well, I’m going back to bed now. I won’t bother you again.”

“I didn’t say it bothered me.” He pauses. “Your heart rate is elevated.”

“What?”

“Your pulse. Fast, like this.” He begins tapping rapidly against his forearm, mimicking the rhythm.

“You can’t possibly hear that.”

“I can,” he insists.

You swallow, finding your mouth is dry again. “I’m going back to bed now.”

“Goodnight.”

You think you hear him tapping again as you shut off the light.

Or maybe it’s just the echo of the real one, throbbing in your own ears.

[formulateez]

mission failed (TEASER) | op81 + ln4

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader x lando norris

genre: filthy smut with a hell of a build up summary: the last time oscar and y/n had their fun, lando had to hear all of it. out of playful retaliation, he tries to fuck with them as a joke, but it backfires and he ends up literally fucking with them. word count: definitely something over 4-5k words, it's not exactly finished right now note: for the sake of the plot, oscar and lando share an apartment in monaco and y/n has been friends with the both of them for quite some time now :D

warnings: 100% nsfw, threesome, lots of making out, oral (m and f receiving), just barely any mxm but its not really the focus here, someone gets restrained for a moment, use of pet names, definitely more but i have yet to actually reach the smut part! i also haven't decided if i wanna make it a dp fic or not... :P requested?: no, but @/ay7ton's reblog gave me the inspo for this fic so i felt inclined to write it bc who wouldn't wanna get tag teamed by landoscar :D

extras: dividers and banners made with template from @/cafekitsune !! gif is from @/oqiwans !! // also!! if anyone would be interested in being in the taglist for whenever i get to posting this fic, feel free send me an ask or a dm!! <33

Oscar listens closely for the sound of the door locking, almost guaranteeing a few moments of privacy. You could feel Oscar almost tense up, looking over to your left to glance at Oscar. Before you could have a chance to speak, Oscar's lips already found themselves on yours.

Despite your eyes widening, you don’t hesitate to return the kiss. It’s gentle yet still heated, leaving shivers trailing down both of your spines. Almost as if neither can get enough, the kiss deepens, and Oscar moves to softly push you onto your back.

Oscar's hands roam your body with familiarity, while your hands find a slight grip in his hair. Your hearts nearly pound in unison as you both knew that Lando could walk into the living room at any moment. The both of you fought to keep your situationship a secret, but the adrenaline from the risk of getting caught brought too much excitement to pass up. You find yourself consistently peeking at the bathroom door, almost bracing for Lando to interrupt the moment.

Oscar's lips softly graze your cheek as he starts to trail kisses down your jaw, making their way to your neck. You lightly grip Oscar's hair, silently warning him to not leave any visible marks.

Oscar’s lips briefly tug into a smirk before he softly whispers, “Pretty girl, you know pulling on my hair like that is just going to make me wanna mark you even more.”

You rolle your eyes as you tug him down by his hair to connect your lips again. Both of you were momentarily distracted and didn’t notice that the shower had just shut off.

Panic flashes through Oscar as he hears the door unlock, and he abruptly breaks apart from you. You almost didn’t want that moment to end, and you found yourself wishing that Lando would occupy himself just a little longer. You couldn’t help but want to steal a few more kisses from Oscar. With the way Oscar's final glance towards you appeared, it seems as if he thought the same. The both of you quickly situate yourselves and return to whatever you both were previously doing on your phones.

Oscar debates in his head before opening his mouth to speak. “I had fun watching those two Transformers movies with you earlier. I used to think the movies were kinda corny but they’re fun to watch with you.” You felt a slight blush creep onto your cheeks as a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you contently sigh, “I had fun too, usually people don’t really enjoy my taste in movies.”

Oscar returns your smile before taking a step towards you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Gently grabbing your waist, his voice drops to a low, intimate tone. “Speaking of which, I was thinking we could continue that fun in my room. Free from the worry of Lando wondering why we’re taking forever to clean up.”

[dduane]

I just saw from your comment on the shrinkflation post that you’re also lactose intolerant with IBS. So listen. This weekend I made Nutella-stuffed chocolate chip cookies, and in doing so realised Nutella is a HUGE trigger for me. It’s been years since I ate it so it came as a total surprise. And the cookies were Amazing, so this is just crushing.

Anyway I see your post and I think, you’ve probably been doing this a while, I’ve seen on other posts that you like chocolate, perhaps you have also encountered this issue and have found a Nutella replacement that’s actually good?

Help me Obi Wan.

I wish I could be sure to be of some genuine help here, as IBS seems to be one of those Every Person Their Own Test Tube things. I may get good mileage out of a strategy, but yours may seriously vary.

Re: chocolate: I don't seem to be bothered by it as such. It's the associated milk content that seems to cause me the most problems, so I watch the package labeling closely for that—and fortunately EU package labeling as regards allergens and triggers is, by and large, very good.

I've been using the Monash University FODMAP method of helping to control IBS, but am surprised to find that its associated app doesn't seem to say anything about Nutella. (Which strikes me as a bit weird, but I may be searching incorrectly.) ...Casa de Sante (which is a third-party site that sells "gut supplements") suggests that Nutella is low-FODMAP due to containing fairly low amounts of known triggers. So, all right, that's nice.... but I'll still take that assessment with a grain of salt, as these are people who want to sell you IBS-adjacent supplements.

Here's where things get complicated, though. I do occasionally have a little Nutella (or the non-branded version of it that we get from our local supplier of baking goods, Kells Wholemeal.) And because I carefully restrain myself, I haven't as yet had any problems, because I always take a lactase supplement—a.k.a. Lactaid or similar—along with them. Because lactase is (relatively) cheap, and spending two or three days swollen up and in pain from having gotten careless with myself is not.

As regards the branded stuff, though, there's a problem. European Nutella and US Nutella are not the same animal... and the US version of Nutella is apparently disquietingly cagey about its labeling. It's apparently difficult to tell whether the portion size of the Nutella you're ingesting has enough skimmed milk powder and/or whey in it to set your lactose intolerance off.

My advice to you would be this (and as usual, you know what advice that costs you nothing tends to be worth... But anyway): don't eat Nutella without taking a Lactaid or similar first. Two reasons: (a) To cover your butt. (b) To help act in establishing a basis for any further diagnostics you need to do. If you have some Nutella after having taken lactase, and still have internal trouble afterwards, then it's a fair bet something else in the stuff is triggering the IBS side rather than the lactose-intolerance side of the equation. That soy-based lecithin, for example. I'd be a bit suspicious about that. (Soy, unfortunately, is one of my own triggers. I can still have tofu, but only so, so carefully.)

...And then, after that, act accordingly to what you've discovered. One thing about my intolerance that I do know: it's come and gone without warning* over many years—sometimes receding into the background completely, suddenly getting much worse without apparent rhyme or reason. So an amount of lactose that once wouldn't have troubled you very much might now be one that you have to watch out for. Or else you simply exceeded what is now a wise portion-control amount for you when you got into those cookies.

(sigh) It's the imponderables associated with handling this problem from day to day that are the most annoying aspect of it. I'm not wild about the wariness with which I have to approach a lot of foods these days—not least because this is Ireland, and in this historically heavily-dairy-based culture, food processors will sneak milk into any damn thing without warning. :) But you do what you've gotta do to get by... which means that, outside of the house, I don't put anything in my mouth without having the lactase pills nearby.

Anyway: hope this helps!

*It also doesn't help that my earliest attacks happened before lactose intolerance was widely recognized as being a problem for a significant portion of the planet's population.

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[johnny-slaughter-me]

— “ 𝐌𝐚𝐦𝐚'𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐲. ” | Johnny Slaughter x Female Reader.

Oneshot. Based off this post by @abundance-of-fic-reblogs.

Notes. English isn't my native language so typos and grammar issues are likely.

Warnings. This fic is sfw. Canon kidnapping, cannibalism and gore mentioned, along with arranged marriage and children.

Enjoy. I hope you enjoy the content. Much love, Cherry. 🍒

You were supposed to be just another victim. You and your friend group's car broke down and the only sign of life near by was the rundown gas station. Luckily- or so you thought, it was still open and there was and older gentleman working the counter.

It became a blur, you don't even remember how you ended up tied in someones basement. A loud rev of a chainsaw woke you up followed with a scream that sounded like it belonged to one of your friends. You panicked trying to break free from the ropes restraining you from leaving. A scream escaped your lips as you felt a firm hand on your back. "Now, now, no need to be so scared, darlin'. Be quiet, and I'll take you to a safer place." The man said. He picked you up and carried you over his shoulder. Despite not knowing who he is, you didn't resist, too scared to disobey. Johnny doesn't know waht came over him. He initially went there to grab you and bring you straight to Leatherface's lair, where you'd be met with the same fate as your friends. But when put his hand on your back and that small yet terrified scream escaped your lips he look into your eyes. For the first time Johnny didn't feel the desire to kill, no, he desired other things. And now here he was taking you to his shed. He dropped you down and made up a little corner for you, "hide here for now darlin', should be safe. I'll come check on you. But don't you dare go away they're out there and I won't be able to help ya'." The man, who you'd later come to know as Johnny, said; leaving you behind.

Time wasn't as kind as you'd wish, you never got to go home. Instead Johnny had managed to keep you as his "girlfriend" meaning he's family dinner directly harmed you. You spent most of your time in his shed, he only let you in the house if he was there with you. You could even tell if he had locked you in his shed everyday because of some twisted fantasy or because he genuinely thought his family is out to get you and did it as a means of protection. Anything was possible with him, or his family. You couldn't even begin to understand them and why they behaved the way they did. Nancy, Johnny's mom, scared you the most. You definitely thought she was plotting your murder. She never spoke to you, but she would and continues to speak of you, even infront of you, and it is never kind things she has to say about you. Johnny would sometimes argue with her, but it was never necessarily to defend you, but rather his decision for wanting to keep you. "You are my boy Johnny, I know you better than you know yourself. She is distracting you away from the family." Nancy scolded him during dinner, with you and they entire family present. You kept your head low and ate quietly as you did every night. Not wanting to give her anymore reasons to kill you. "She's nothing but trouble, you could find even whores who will provide what she does and more. You can do better my boy, I don't want you settling down for something like that when you can do better." Nancy insulted you once again, "I think she's nice and pretty!" Sissy randomly said, you turned to look at her, no one in the family had ever stood up for you except for Johnny. You smiled at Sissy as your cheeks got a bit pink, but then you heard Nancy growl under her teeth so you quickly lowered your head and pretended to not exist anymore. As Nancy was about to talk some more shit, the older man from the gas station that you visited before being kidnapped, spoke: "as long as Johnny doesn't spring no love child around here, she don't bother us. If he gets too distracted imma smack that Johnny boy of yours in the head!". Suddenly, Johnny stood up, his eyes lit up and he made his way towards you. Resting his hands on your shoulders, you looked up at him, you locked eyes for a brief moment before you followed his gaze towards Nancy. "Mother." Johnny said, "I know you are looking out for me but there's just some needs of mine you can't fulfill. If you really love me you won't be mean to the woman I choose now, would you?" Nancy took a breath before starting to say, "of course not Johnny, I love you and am so proud of you. You are my bo-" but Johnny cut her off before she continued, "then ma', how 'bout I marry Y/N, and after she'll become part of the family, we can give ya' a mini Johnny? You can help raise him! It'll also keep the family going ya' know? We always gotta put family first, but Y/N is family, let her be your family too!" You nearly choked on your food as he spoke, sure you too have been intimate already, it was one of the reasons he kept you alive. You've accepted the fact that you are never going back home, and this is your family now, but aside from Johnny only Sissy really made any efforts to make you feel welcomed. Nancy looked at Johnny, she gave a thought to his words, he wasn't wrong. The family eventually needed to grow, you and Johnny would be the perfect ones to do so, and unlike Johnny she was now to old to raise a child all on her own, but motherhood- no matter how twisted her version of it was, did fill in the void she tended to feel. She walked up and extended her hand out to you. You shook it, feeling safe to do so since Johnny was right at your side. "Welcome to the family." She said, "I can't believe it! We are going to have a wedding! Can I help with making the dress?" Sissy said with puppy eyes and excitement you've never seen her express before. Everyone seemed excited and welcomed you to the family.

"Congratulations, you are now Y/N Slaughter." Johnny whispered in your ear that night when you both rested in his bed. You just looked into his eyes, as twisted as this relationship was, you have grown in love with this man. Maybe life won't be too bad afterall, you thought to yourself. You gave Johnny a peck on the lips and whispered "goodnight, hubby." Then closed your eyes and curled up besides him.

[catatonicreality]

Anti woman society

The creator I'm currently completely obsessed with is Medusone, who made long detailed, well elaborated videos on the Depp v Heard case. Today (20th Sept 2023) she posted on her YT channel a new, "shorter" but no less pointed video about the newly unsealed court documents. I call the unsealing of the court documents by the Johnny Depp stans an ongoing public harassment of Heard aided by the silence of content creators that jumped on the band wagon last year and failed to follow up. After the verdict was read many just moved on, despite new developments in the case, case in point post verdict settlement prompted by Amber's appeal.

Now we have a new band wagon, the accusations against Russell Brand. The knee jerk reaction on so many sides is "trial by media" and "why come out to the media and not report it to the police?".

Amber tried to go about this quietly. As Medusone points out in her video, they literally forced her to re-live her SA on the stand while her testimony was broadcast. Amber was against cameras in the court room. Amber didn't want any of her suffering to be publicized and broadcast, Johnny Depp did. His lawyers wanted the cameras in the courtroom,...to humiliate her. Amber never sought out publicity about her divorce, she followed the NDA after the divorce. She obtained a restraining order against him. She went to the police, she did what she knew how to do, best to her abilities and mental state and taking in account that he's an insanely well known person and she's virtually a nobody in comparison. So all I can say about the public's reaction to the Brand accusations is: fuck all y'all who expect victims to act a certain way after being abused and letting abusers off the hook because the victim wasn't perfect. Do you know how insane that is?!

The four women approached the media because they instinctively knew all this, yet here we fuckung are. No matter how much evidence is produced nothing will be enough for most of society short of a gruesome video of the assault and even then many would find a way to put this on the, in these cases female victims.

This society hates women, plain and simple.

[planet4546b]

signoise questions!!! feel free to ignore as many as u want, sorry there are so many i am just very 🙇 (emoji of person leaning on folded arms and looking interested if it doesnt load right- just looked this up and it is actually a person bowing??? i have always parsed it as like a more restrained :eyes: emoji. huh) abt all of the parts its very cool!!!

-decade: have u read the city & the city by china mieville? whatre the inspirations for this if u have any off the top of yr head? was this like a rogue architect (i am thinking of the cartographers without borders post about a flat and level kansas watch out for the 900ft cliff bisecting kansas city post) or was it an official govt project or something?

-twins: i really like the name lariat for a city thats v cool also since theres a bunch of plays, are they all extant in their entireties or is it like a classical texts situation where we have fragmentary records? im really interested in the mixed media part of signoise & how different parts might be told, are u thinking of adding video or audio or anything?

-bell expedition: SO interested in how a caver becomes "disgraced." excited to see a bunch of cave content about the mar.

-pareidolia: a) VERY cool name i love it b) are u going to make the photographs they take?

-pepper's ghost: i dont have a specific q about this one i would just like to register my extreme excitement to see what happens w it.

& i guess just a more general q, do u have a rough idea of what media(s) each story is going to be in? also i am really really liking the name choices youve made for places etc.

i misread bowing as bowling and my confusion about that emoji only grew. but ozzy hi!!! thank you for the questions im gonna try to hit all of them :D

1. i HAVE read the city and the city (really enjoy it) although it ironically inspires a different city on the map (primary and meridian, which is where the playwright stuff mostly takes place). decade’s primary inspiration is pretty explicitly superstudio’s continuous monument, as well as a handful of other postmodern avant- garde architecture concepts, like constant’s new babylon. visually also something like blame, though i have yet to actually read blame i know not by reputation alone. the vibes of it are actually very much that pefectly level kansas post LMAO

decade’s architect is a supercomputer (also known as decade) that produces the plans that the people then construct (also very invisible cities, i’m just blanking on the name of the city itself that’s constantly building). a lot of decade’s story is pure mystery for this reason: how did they build a supercomputer? how and why does it create its plans? what is it building for? why is it that the only records of the city are from decade itself, and next to no records from its citizens exist? what was their form of government, who did decide to build, who led this project? much to uncover!!

2. mairzy finch was a relatively minor playwright during their life, and had one play that really became well known and four or five other less known ones. the bulk of their history is about a massive series of plays that are in fact fragmentary and were all found after their death and are being ‘completed’ and published by almas verrier. so there is a lot of classics to it in how those plays are reconstructed, published, and continually found (and the controversy around all of that), though this is not a project that gains a lot of scholarly attention, its pretty much only verrier and samira that are interested at all.

i would absolutely LOVE to add audio especially to these plays, within my ability as a single creator. although i will likely needle my sibling who used to act to get notes on things like stage and audio design (the entertainment interlude in kentucky route zero is a HUGE inspiration here).

3. quite simply, eric has previously led groups in which multiple members died, and while it is generally understood that that’s a bit of an occupational hazard, the general caving community has concluded those specific deaths could have been avoided if eric was not pushing the group to fuel his own ego. Oops! and glad you’re excited for the cave content because ohohoho so am i!!!!

4. my favorite thing about the name pareidolia is that when i’m researching other things i ALWAYS run into this word and go oh cool and go to its wikipedia page and forget one of the first images on the wikipedia page is a cave formation LOL. and yes i almost definitely will be!! i will at minimum be recreating them via digital art, but i have So many cave photos i can use various ways, and im thinking about getting some cheap ass camera to print physical photos as well. i have in my mind what his most famous photograph is and im so excited to recreate it GAH

5. i’m also SO excited about this one so glad to hear it!!! these two are characters that are close to my heart but have been at the fringes of signoise’s main story for a while, getting to spotlight them is super exciting for me. and there’s some weird late game plot developments with them that are fun. they also are the mechanism for my favorite Samira Realization and a catalyst for her downward spiral. woohoo!

6. the mixed media aspect of signoise is BRAND new and a lot of that i’m still brainstorming to figure out what’s even possible for me to do, but what i do know is the general format for each:

playwright: play scripts and academic papers (possible audio recordings/set plans)

decade: architectural plans, radio transmission transcripts

bell: interviews with bell and everett (god i would love so bad to make and photograph minis for specific cave scenes here)

pareidolia: photographs, research notes (?) i need…something else here but im still figuring out what (largely photo manips and limited animation. hopefully via physical camera)

peppers ghost: radio broadcast transcripts (i have the least wiggle room for other media in here i think, iltheres too much of it to be voice acted via just like dragging in family and friends and it’s pretty limited to radio. but i’ll find something im sure)

and thank you!!! naming things is difficult (the like…7 hours i spent trying to find names for all the new characters. god.) but i have quite a bit of fun with it. i like sounds ^^

[noirofhyrule]

Have a tea?

Hell yeah I'm back

Time to post sum cringe

WARNINGS: I'm so cringe I'm sorry I don't have a beta reader to stop me to do this bullshit. The title doesn't even make sense on the writing lol Fluff asf. Little mention of nsfw stuff at the end. Do you want a next part with nsfw? Bc I will

The calm of the night enveloped them in a soft embrace, where they both watched the sky shine. The moon bathed them with its faint and mysterious light, illuminating that place that now meant so much to them. 

Ghost remained silent, immersed in his thoughts, his eyes lost in the stars that populated the night sky. He sighed deeply, It was too beautiful a night now that he thought about it, for, without knowing yet how, it would end up becoming the most memorable date of their lives. 

Wynter smiled a little at seeing him like this, to lower his gaze and took a folder with some papers he already knew, where upon opening it he signed it with his pen and immediately looked at Ghost with a smile. “Here”. She handed him the folder with the papers she had already signed before and he accepted them, reading what it said, signing them instantly. Wynter decided to move a little closer to him and watch Ghost, hugging his arm, leaning on his shoulder as she watched him sign the paper with the pen she had given him a couple of months ago already. 

It was a marriage certificate. They had decided to get married, although money was no problem, they didn't have enough time to have a formal wedding, they couldn't really afford it either, after all, their relationship was in secret, or almost. Perhaps the others on their team already knew about it, but they had never mentioned anything. And yet, deep down, it mattered little. What really counted was the bond in their hearts, because even if their love had to be kept secret, it was no less pure or precious. 

“For better or for worse, in sickness and in health…”

Ghost spoke as he handed her back the marriage certificate, content, crinkling his eyes slightly, it could now be her completely. 

She completed, approaching him with a dazzling smile. 

“To love and to cherish, together until death!" He smiled, taking the wedding ring box. 

Simon gently took Wynter's hand and stroked the back of her soft skin, feeling a comforting warmth. A smile tugged at his lips as he placed the ring on her ring finger, then Wynter proceeded to take the larger ring and then Simon's hand, placing the ring on it, gazing in wonder at the bliss that this simple act seemed to fill her with.

The difference in size between their hands was quite remarkable, Simon found it a peculiar grace. Wynter stroked the scars he had on his knuckles and the back of his hand from so many fights he had been in, she had always thought he had very beautiful and strong hands despite his dangerous job.

Once the two rings were on, they intertwined their hands for a moment, fiddling, making Wynter smile.

Simon looked at his now wife with eyes bright with pride. Wynter returned the look, with a heap of happiness on his face to Riley, who thought he didn't deserve it, he was happy too, and smiled beneath his mask, crinkling his eyes and sporting a grimace that the girl loved.

With restrained shyness, Wynter brought her hands up to Simon's face and brushed his cheek, caressing it gently. “You must kiss the bride," she whispered, feeling the light warmth of his mask under her thumb. 

Ghost wasn't going to lie, actually that caress had made him tense, Wynter didn't usually approach him to remove his mask, usually he was the one who took it off. Nevertheless he nodded, giving her permission. 

She smiled, carefully lifting the cloth up to see his face lovingly. For Wynter, she had always seen Ghost with the eyes of a lover, just like the first time she saw him without a mask, that time Simon felt so scared and helpless, scarred by the scars of the past, yet eager to show her his true face, he wanted to see her reaction to the scars on his face, to his messy blond hair, even his hazel eyes and slight stubble of days old beard. 

Once they managed to connect gazes, Wynter smiled at him, looking at his face, keeping it tucked away in her most selfish memories and thoughts where she knew his beautiful face. 

He contemplated her eyes narrowed in a smile, the small mole on her chin, and eventually, her lips. “Finally can do this”.

He reached up to cup her cheek with his huge hand, gently pulling her close and kissing her. It was a different kind of kiss. The first kiss that felt each other's lips, without a mask to separate them, full of love and passion, where they knew they could face any difficulty together. 

And that is how they both managed to overcome their fears, being now husband and wife. Simon was no longer afraid of being able to love, to raise a family or to feel loved.

Wynter could help him heal, become human again. 

The kiss continued between them, never having experienced such a craving for mutual need, body heat that quickly became addictive as their skins rubbed together. Simon's hands began to run up and down Wynter's body, caressing her body, learning about her figure, looking for the places that made her sigh, and the places that made her feel comfortable with him. 

“Simon…” she mumbled between kisses, sighing, moving her kisses up his cheek, his nose, his brow and his hundred. Simon loved to feel her soft, awkward kisses, maybe he was getting used to it, but he loved to feel spoiled by her. 

“Wynter." he answered in a deep voice, deeper than usual, with a calm tone as he caressed her waist with his thumb, delighting in her natural scent, so exquisite.

“Congratulations, you're a married man now." The girl exclaimed with a chuckle, looking at him with too much love and genuine illusion. Things that Simon thought he had lost over time.

“Congratulations Mrs. Riley," he kissed Wynter again. It was a necessity, her lips were soft and warm, feeling unable to stop himself. He adored feeling her warmth on him, unable to believe that a woman as beautiful and loving as she was could turn out to be just as bloodthirsty. 

She smiled a little blushing at being called Mrs. Riley, it was a feeling of love she couldn't imagine ever feeling. 

“Thank you so much”.

Excitedly, she looked at the small picnic they had set up and sat down a little more next to him, taking the small cake she had bought hours before. “I want to cut the cake! Do you want a slice?”

Simon nodded, as Wynter took the knife, and he calmly helped guide her hand to cut the first slice, as was customary at any wedding. 

Wynter laughed a little as she took the puff from Simon, as she did as she handed the piece of cake to him, making her giggle as he smiled a little ruefully. It was too corny for his taste, however, as long as he could see her laugh like that, he could get used to it. 

They settled on the floor, lying together under the blanket. Wynter leaned against Simon's shoulder, and he wrapped her in his arms. There was no darkness or loneliness that could keep them apart anymore; just the warmth of their bodies pressed together and the night breeze caressing their faces, as close to each other as their hearts.

They talked and exchanged laughter, promises and kisses under the moonlight, savoring the happiness of this union that, only a few hours ago, seemed impossible. Their hands intertwined naturally, and eventually, their lips, but Wynter shivered from the cold. 

“You're freezing" Simon said, taking off his sweatshirt so he could give it to her, "I don't want you to catch a cold on our wedding night”. 

Wynter chuckled, stepping aside to look at him. “Always such a gentleman with me, aren't you?” He joked, sometimes Simon was so gentle that he forgot how they shouted at each other on the battlefield.

He just smiled, kissing her forehead. He took her in his arms and carried her to the truck they had arrived in, but not before returning for the picnic things. 

Once they reached the base, Simon put his Ghost mask back on, stealing a kiss from Wynter first. 

“Hey!" Wynter let out a laugh and took his hand to pull him towards her so she could kiss him again, albeit with his mask on. “It's not fair, I wanted to feel more of you”.

“That can be fixed”. He gently stroked her hair, it was obvious they weren't done with the night.

“What are you mea-oh-...” A heavy blush painted Wynter's cheeks as she now knew what he was referring to, looking slightly away.

Simon held his breath, watching her. He knew she reciprocated, however, they had never crossed that line. Perhaps her nerves had gotten the better of her at the last instant. 

After a long silence, Wynter turned her face toward him. Her cheeks burned, her eyes shone with emotion. “Yes," she whispered at last, squeezing his hand tightly.

[outofangband]

Morwen and Aerin scene from a longer fic (can be read without the rest though)

cw: implied/background abuse and captivity

“You should keep these for yourself,” Aerin says quietly but she does not protest as Morwen finishes crushing the leaves and adds them to the steaming cup.

“I have no need of them now and these grow unrestrained in my garden,” Morwen says, “You are in pain. You do not hide it well.”

This is not strictly true. Aerin has been concealing this pain for days now and is well accustomed to hiding others. She has been using her arm normally, despite how it exacerbated the wrenching of the joint. But it seemed that when she crossed this threshold, her ability to hide her suffering left her. She pulls her shawl more tightly around her. She has not worn clothes that truly feel her own in well nigh a year. She has not felt her own for that time either.

The steam coaxes forward her tears with more urgency. The scent of it coated her nose and mouth. It was too hot to hold but she reached for the mug anyways, feeling the roughly formed clay of the Nen Lalaith beneath her burning fingers. Morwen watches her for a moment, then lays one hand atop of hers, just briefly, and she sets it back down again.

“I am sorry.”

“For what do you apologize?”

Aerin makes a movement between a shrug and a shoulder. Her shaking does not abate after and once more those words find her.

This will never end, not until I do.

She has thought this again and again since that day she was first brought before him but it is the closest she has yet come to saying them.

She does not, though the words are half formed. Nor does she think Morwen will have any answer. There is no answer that is both honest and kind. Aerin knows she has come closer to death lately than she has ever done before, close enough that she tries with an almost desperation not to consider that end, and which she dreads more.

She blinks away more tears. She cannot weep for this or she would not stop.

“I will stay up, if you want a few minutes. I could not sleep myself.”

Morwen looks exhausted truly but Aerin does not doubt her words. She does not want to accept but her own tiredness is weighing on her and she knows she will not have long before she has to return and when she does, she will have no sleep.

Aerin takes one of her hands and links her fingers through Morwen’s, looking at her for permission to remain like this. Morwen gives her a swift nod that almost makes her smile even if it does not.

Perhaps she does sleep. She does not dream but her world blurs in a way that lessens the sharpness of her pain and coats her sadness in something hazy, if only briefly.

She stands again before she is truly awake, the blanket that is not hers falling to the ground. She cannot speak as she walks to the door. If she does not restrain herself before she returns she will pay for it dearly. She wants to think it would be worth it. She does not know.

(Morwen watches Aerin leave, pulling the frayed edges of her shawl more tightly around her. It had not been made for warmth but anything that she might use to cover herself was welcome.)

Note: the flow is definitely a bit rushed, this is party of chapter five of with slander for a blade and it’s a bit out of the style of the previous chapters, it’s almost an interlude. Anyways it definitely needs some work still. There are a few paragraphs at the beginning I didn’t end up including because they needed more work

I have lots of thoughts on Morwen and herblore, I’ve been doing so much research for a few fics

Second Author’s note: I have a post here that goes a bit into Aerin’s first meeting Brodda and I’m writing it in fic form but it’s been taking awhile

Third:: I hope this is ok, I’ve been feeling so bad about my content lately and unfortunately it’s made me an even worse empirical judge of it

[oswlld]

oswlld's monthly wrap up: march

note: i am trying something a bit different this year, so bear with me as i figure out how i want to format this. i wanted to spend more time sharing what i consume, beyond what i rb, and put my thoughts in one place. these posts are okay to rb

--

When We Cease to Understand the World, Benjamín Labatut [started 02/24, finished 03/14] What an outstanding example of blurring the lines between fiction and reality. I am content in never knowing what’s real and imaginary in the lives of these people. May we never forget that for every new idea challenged, there is a real person with real emotions and motivations behind it. 4.25⭐️ in storygraph. — No Stopping Us Now: A History of Older Women in America, Gail Collins [started 03/03, finished 03/30] This book makes some strong points, but comes off weak in its execution. By having it be told decade by decade, it becomes hard to follow along when so many names and events are being tossed around. Without a firm thread tying all the themes together, the achievements ended up feeling lackluster when it should leave you feeling a sense of pride and hopefulness. 3.25⭐️ in storygraph (I rounded up, but it feels more like a 3.15)

23.5 Degrees, GMMTV [started: 03/08, ongoing] What a breath of fresh air!! With my busy schedule, I managed to catch the first two eps and I’ve loved every minute of it. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, while still keeping a tight grip on its sense of identity. The series soaks up every aspect of its space theme like a sponge. Content specifically made for me, tysm! As much as I have tried refraining from consuming more high school settings, I couldn’t help but be enamored by what I have seen so far. I have paused this series for now, but hopefully I’ll be caught up before the end of April. I should be able to watch it live on Fridays in May. Until then, I will miss them dearly! — Always a Witch, Netflix [started 03/28, in progress] At this time, I have only seen episodes 1-5. So far, it’s a very straight-forward series. I am restraining myself from calling it predictable, because there are one or two things that really turns some tropes/themes on its head. But all-in-all, I am still waiting for this show to grab me. For a show that checks all the boxes that really makes a core jessi show, a series with time travel, magical realism, and found family, it has yet to completely sweep me away. Time really got away from me this month, but I will finish this series sometime in the next two weeks. We shall see if the latter half gets better.

Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour (Taylor’s Version) [watched 03/15 thru 03/18] I have seen this live and did see the original film in theaters last year, so this experience was more of a rewatch. This time around, my parents wanted to watch some of it with me so we made a whole evening of it on 3/15 so that was really neat. I will be traveling a lot in April and will be taking an audio copy of this to keep me entertained. — Oscar Nomination Season [started 02/17, ended 03/24] All of my initial reactions of what I managed to cover this Oscar season is in this post. Some of the strongest categories I have had the pleasure of covering this year were the Best Documentary (feature), Best Production Design, Best Live Action Short, Best Documentary (short), and Best Animated Film. I have several more films to tackle later this year, but my overall impression this Oscar season was just alright. One or two films have hit an extremely high note for me, but no worst of the worst.

BEYONCÉ, Beyoncé [relistening] During the pandemic, I really got into waching YT reaction channels reacting to full albums. One of my favorites is HTHaze and he is only beginning his listening journey through Beyoncé’s discography (yes, for the first time!) His reaction to Beyoncé’s self-titled made me want to relisten to it in full for the first time in years. I tend to only revisit a few songs through the years, but I do love going back to albums after time has past to recontextualize everything all over again. I’ve had my longtime faves from my 20’s but in my mid-30’s, the songs that hit harder now are: Pretty Hurts, Haunted, and Jealous. — Bewitched, Laufey [first time listening] The same YT channel got me to listen to this album. I am guilty in having my first listen be through his video first before diving into her album properly. With that said, the brain rot went FULL ROT. I love LOVE her compositions. Having learned from her Tiny Desk that getting a grand piano influenced the way she wrote her songs makes the whole conception so much grander. Her voice is soooo, it’s SOOOOO !!!!!!! I read a comment somewhere that her dream is to rejuvenate jazz the same way Taylor Swift did with country for a younger generation and that really spoke to me. I truly believe she is heading in the right direction in achieving that. My favorite run of songs goes from: Haunted, Must Be Love, While You Were Sleeping, Lovesick, California and Me, Nocturne (Interlude), and Promise. Those seven songs in that succession is so GOOD, ahH! — Once the Musical [relistening] Every spring, I fall into a Once spiral and it just gets deeper and deeper. This time though, I only tackled the core faves on YT rather than committing to the full audio (w/ Arthur Darvill and Joanna Christie). Although Arthur Darvill’s Leave will forever solidify his Guy as my Guy, Declan Bennett is The Guy of Guys for me. My mandatory relistening experience always goes: Arthur’s Leave, Arthur’s Say It To Me Now, Declan’s Say It To Me Now, Declan’s When Your Mind’s Made Up, Zrinka's If You Want Me, Once’s Spotify Jam Session. And it would all be on a loop lol. — Cowboy Carter, Beyoncé [first time listening] This is still fresh in my mind, having only listened to it in its entirety once through. My first impression is that it’s one of her most cohesive albums to date. Having had the first taste of what she would eventually achieve all the way back with Lemonade and The Gift, Cowboy Carter feels like a natural progression in her discography. I don’t have a top songs list to provide at this time, as I would need more time with the album. Fav songs come with time. Although, I did listen to 16 CARRIAGES when it was released several weeks ago and I knew then it would be a spectacular album. What a phenomenal single to lead a phenomenal homecoming.

Where’d You Go Bernadette, written by Maria Semple and narrated by Kathleen Wilhoite [started 03/22, finished 03/29] I… I didn’t like this. And that’s alright. Even if I didn’t like the premise or the characters, I did enjoy the format of the narrative and the narrator (especially her singing!!). But in the end, this was just not meant for me.

—

As it is still March when I am writing this, I wanted to endcap Women’s Month with a special shoutout to two women in my life that have been working with me to improve my overall well-being: Wendy (personal trainer) and Sofia (life coach). I am in a better headspace because of the work and trust they have in me to build a life I want. I cannot wait to see what I am capable of this time next year.

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 95 // Daze // Day Off

Contents (Warnings): The anxiety and fear (Angst, slight blood mention, character and monster info as always). Read full chapter on A03

Wordcount: 2,300+

Song I correlate to this Chapter: None to report

Sorry the chapter is coming out so late! And I'll be posting the next tomorrow, since I couldn't finish it tonight and both parts together would have been way too long!

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

Drake

The difference was more than subtle. When someone took Drake's blood or even disgustingly ate him, he felt their body tug gently, stringing his energy out like yarn. Noticeable, terrifying, yet delicate. 

When dealing with a magus like Andras, it was as if Drake had a coating of energy desperately clinging to every crevice inside his body, only for Andras to painfully pull it out, just like that contraction of tentacles that bore their way around Drake's mouth to silence him. 

Drake couldn't breathe nor twist away; Andras squeezed at Drake's temples. It threatened to crush them if he attempted to leave his grip. 

The desperation worsened, screaming from within the confines of his flesh. Even more robust than the anger he had boiling over. 

Drake was weakened; without magic, mobility, and power—Andras could kill him here and now.

His body's desire to feed grew, and his fangs extended out from his gums in response. Andras was taking too much of his energy. His mouth refused to close; he couldn't hold his need nor his body's response for survival. 

The less energy he had, the less coherent his thoughts became—they were drowned out by the increasing thumps of everyone's heartbeats. Even making a noise felt impossible as if his lungs had collapsed from the energy Andras had drained.

"Answer me, and I'll let you go."

The curly-haired male's voice was so faint, a whisper compared to the constant drumming of everyone in the room. 

What. Say what. Drake couldn't remember what he asked. What did Andras even say? All Drake knew was that it made him mad.

He heard Andras's voice again, and Drake tried to charge forward, sharpened fangs, only to feel the pressure on his skull increase, accompanied by an internal cracking.

"There's an intruder. Why did you have Terrance stop me!"

Another heartbeat Drake had heard before, along with her sound. 

"I wanted to make sure you didn't kill him. Bring short fuse back to me, alive."

In his clouded judgment, Drake's ears touched at the nickname. Amid his suffering and panic, he had forgotten the question, and now it was clear.

Andras didn't ask whether he'd kill Alexander or not for no reason; the curly-haired bastard rarely ever did. He asked because...Chase is here.

...

Lynette

I only imagined what happened to Osiris as Andras held Drake's head.

It caused anxiety to flare my nerves into crazed, dread-filled sparks. And those ignitions drove the adrenaline to move my body to Drake.

Though Zetsu's hands clutched either side of my upper arms. They restrained and saved me.

His squeeze begged me not to launch myself into danger.

He was right. I couldn't do anything. I doubted Andras would let me live if I stepped out of line and the giant of a man Terrance begged me to.

My sight flowed back from around the office to Drake again. Please don't kill him. I begged in my head.

I couldn't hear their exchange. So the office was quiet, besides the soft noise from beyond the open double doors.

The sudden loud tone of Andras made both Zetsu and I jump. "Victoria just passed by. Can you grab her, Terrance?"

Soundless as always, Terrance turned back to the double doors, left, and then a minute later returned holding Victoria's arm.

"There's an intruder at the barrier. Why did you have Terrance stop me!" The woman with yellow eyes, like Lev, protested and hissed.

Andras chuckled and watched her attempt to get Terrance to loosen his grip on her forearm. The male with a ponytail grinned at her tries.

Andras said, "I wanted to ensure you didn't kill Short Fuse. I'd like him alive."

Victoria halted. Her nose wrinkled with her snooty tone, "alive, really?"

"Don't be like that," the curly-haired males teased her childish disdain.

"You know it's a lot harder to capture people alive."

Who are they talking about?

"That's true," Andras said, "however, I don't care what you do. We can put him back together later as long as he's still breathing."

Victoria lowered her head, exhaled, and sighed, "fine."

Terrance let Victoria go, and she jogged out the doors.

"I'll be joining you down there soon!" Andras shouted. Soon, his head tilted back, and his eyes locked onto mine. "Lynette."

I stood up straight.

"Can you be a doll and come here," he asked in a way that came off more as a demand.

Zetsu let me go, but I refused to step closer. "Wi-will you stop hurting him if I do?"

Andras studied me, his expression blank at first, then gained life with his warped smile, "Aw, don't worry, Lynette. I'd sooner kill you than him." He pursed his lips together and mocked Drake by shaking his head roughly, "I'd never get rid of someone so valuable that easily."

He returned his attention to me, "Does that make you feel better?"

No. I thought.

I didn't answer and moved closer. I didn't have anywhere to go if I did run. The exit out of Andras's office was guarded by Terrance, and the only other way to go was the elevator, which only led to the basement.

A mocking smirk spread across Andras' face as he purred, "Good girl." Then swiftly let go of Drake's head, pushed him back, and grabbed me.

He put me between himself and Drake, who recoiled.

His free hand came up and laced itself between my already tangled curls. His fingers tightened like steel cables, forcing my head back so I couldn't see what was coming.

My eyes were forced to look at him or the ceiling.

His other hand hooked into my collar and tugged. It burned the right side of my neck and tore on the left, exposing the flesh further for Drake.

When I moved my hands, his poisonous vocals shut it down. "He'll die without energy."

The second or two more, I didn't move; I felt Drake's head bury into my neck. The sharp pain followed, enough to force a wheeze from my cords.

My eyes flickered off the dark wood and well-lit ceiling and to Andras. I could barely see him past Drake, though that wicked grin was hard to ignore even as everything grew dim.

"You play your part well, Lynette."

...

Drake

His sense of reality returned in the midst of, yet again, drinking Lynette's blood. He hadn't even opened his eyes to confirm it.

His stomach stirred, a mix of disgust in himself and the sweet satisfaction that her ichor supplied.

He pressed his body into hers—his arms were still bound. 

Drake was drawn to keep himself between all the others and her. He watched them as he continued to drink more than he needed—Drake impulsively gulped down what he wanted.

"She's lucky your venom regenerates her blood cells, isn't she? Other than that, she'd be an empty husk by now." Andras's tone thrummed from above. He had dropped Lynette after she passed out.

Drake released his fangs, continuously huffing from the current buzz of overindulgence. "You-" Drake stumbled up only to fall back over; his vision and body were still dazed. He drank too much. It was a feeling he hadn't had since the festival.

Andras pointed to the two nearest to the tall string bean. "Zetsu, take Drake and Lynette downstairs for me," Andras said. "And don't worry about unbinding Drake's arms. If all goes well, he has another client soon." 

Drake fumbled to his feet, "I-"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you see Short Fuse real soon. Maybe in remanence of our old happy time together." Andras waved him off.

Drake wobbled to Andras, and then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His vision swiftly turned back and locked onto Zetsu as he picked up Lynette from the ground. 

Don't touch her. He pursued Zetsu into the elevator and wished he could yank her from him. 

He shouldn't be holding her. She's... The numbing realization buzzed in his head when the doors closed behind him, and his reflection was seen. 

He didn't trust anyone here. Anyone working for Andras wasn't good, but his reaction wasn't all for her own protection. Drake had a compulsion to keep her near him, watch over every inch of her, and secure her in his own grasp. 

I've only had her blood twice in a row. Drake knew that. Addiction didn't happen that early, yet these circumstances were not normal. He had been nearly entirely drained on both occasions, so his body had been desperate. Now it was, too. It wanted to ensure his source of energy remained intact and his.

Shame clashed with his need for control.

It didn't stop until she awoke when they walked down the long barred hall.

She jumped, being held closely in Zetsu's arm. A soft and high-pitched yelp popped from her mouth. Frightened, Zetsu almost dropped her.

"Don't," Drake ordered; he couldn't let Lynette be hurt.

Zetsu listened. He held Lynette and slowly put her onto the ground when she requested it. He's so skittish. 

Drake felt the eyes watching them from beyond the bars. He moved near Lynette to keep her close to himself. 

They had stopped, allowing Drake to feel the eyes of those behind him peering through their bars. 

"Drake?"

He snapped back to her and noticed how close he had gotten. His eyes tipped to her flesh, and his fangs wanted to meet her for more. It tried to preserve himself in case he was drained once more. Andras did it on purpose. Drake knew the bastard pushed for him to be addicted to Lynette.

He fought to step away from her against the alluring lull of her heart, "can you walk?"

"I can...do you feel better?"

He shook his head, ensuring his bangs fell securely over his eyes. They were curtains he draped close to hide away. "Don't ask if I feel better. None of this makes me feel good." He didn't know why he was so open, especially in the middle of this foul-smelling hall. 

He pressed himself into her to direct her ahead. Zetsu clearly didn't know what to do when he moved with her further down.

"Hey!"

He has no confidence. Drake brewed a distraction in his head, maybe even a way to take him down and get out of this place. 

It only reminded him of what was happening above. He snapped his teeth together. 

Behind them, Zetsu's hand grabbed Drake's shoulder, and Drake yelled instead. 

"FUCK!" 

It made Lynette spring and turn to him quickly, and Zetsu yanked his hand back. The halls were quiet, as if anyone inside the cells expected Drake to put on a show. 

Drake didn't care. He was pissed. "Alexander's so stupid; why the hell is he even coming alone. HE DOESN'T THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS." 

"Xander's here?"

Drake roared out in frustration, "He is HERE. They are sending Victoria after him, AND even if he's able to avoid her or maybe beat her, there are so many others here, too." Drake's concern swelled and came out in angry fits of curses.

"Wouldn't he tell people what happened? Or where he was going?"

"Knowing Alexander, No. He's so..." Drake looked at the nice brick portion of the wall that looked perfect for his head to bang into. "He always does this. He doesn't think, he acts-" Remorse pet his heart, while regret plowed up from his lungs and to his throat. It burned like acid reflux. "He doesn't give up even though I-I tried to kill him."

...

(4 years and a few months ago)

Drake

"He's so," Drake yelled after he rubbed his forearm. The bite or two from clients always had a way of lingering without the wound being there. 

Andras, sitting back on one of the couches in the main room, continued to count his money and spoke between the numbers, "What's the matter, Drake?"

Drake paced, his eyes occasionally wandering to the stage on his right and the pole. A strip club as a cover for this business is still weird. His mind didn't linger on it. He answered Andras. "Alexander."

Andras's lips perked with a smile, "your secret lover, what about him?"

He retched at the tease. It was rare for him to get sick by simple thoughts, but that made him feel like throwing up. Drake spat in disgust. "I hate that prodigy."

The curly-haired male placed the money down. "Hmm, a prodigy, huh? You've never mentioned that."

That catches your attention. Is it because he's a kindred spirit? Drake rolled his eyes, going on, "He's a hybrid, Magus and Wendigo."

"Interesting, I didn't think such a combination was possible." Drake noticed an unusual excitement in Andras's eyes. "Though price-wise, no one wants to buy a hybrid."

"He tastes disgusting," Drake remarked. 

Andras sat back on the couch and snickered at Drake's response, "It's okay, I have no intention of replacing you." He tilted his head back and forth, thinking, "But...maybe you can introduce me to him."

Drake's eyes squinted so hard he could barely see through them, "Why would I want to do that?"

Andras put both of his arms over the top of the long couch. "I wanna watch you take him down."

"I can't. He's a prodigy."

Andras pushed up and leaned over the table toward Drake, "It doesn't matter how powerful you think they are; if you know their weaknesses, then you can take them down."

Andras slid the money he was previously counting to Drake, "Don't worry though, I won't make you introduce us." Andras whispered, "I'll find another time to meet him later."

Upon taking the money, Drake pointed the wad of cash back at Andras, "You aren't."

"Okay, okay," He held his palms up, "if you'd rather live in his shadow forever, that's your life."

"I'm not in his shadow."

Andras's contained his laugh, "mhm." He parted his lips after a minute of muffled laughter, "From the sounds of it, those around you praising him, they won't recognize you unless you prove it to them," He got up and leaned close enough to Drake to tap his nose. Drake pulled back, offended. "What better way to show them than by beating someone outclassing you?"

He didn't move in close enough for Andras to tap his nose a second time. He stayed back and swayed the idea in his head. "It can't happen."

"It can.~"

"You're optimistic."

Andras denied the claim and walked to the same side as Drake, "no, I simply know everyone has their own vulnerability, sometimes with power, their own morals, convictions, it might take time, but you can always find out what makes someone tick." He laughed.

The way Andras talked sometimes reminded Drake that he had to traverse carefully with him. "I'm still not bringing you to him."

"You won't have to." 

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. I'm glad I put out a story that people can enjoy! I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable, as always~).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

What I’d do for a Livable Income Part 2 (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[pollypenname]

Below is a single chapter of The Tinker, a Bakugou x Reader slow burn with smut. If you’d like to read the whole story, click HERE for Wattpad and HERE for AO3. There are over 3.5 million readers, and we'd love to have you too!

THIS POST HAS MATURE CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. READERS SHOULD BE 18+

Content Warning: Male Domination, Light Choking, PIV Sex

Burning Up Part II

[The Tinker, chapter 46]

Bakugou was positively aching.

Y/N got on her knees in front of him, sliding off the mattress. Her cheeks were still red from her orgasm. He was pretty sure he'd never been this desperate; he clenched his fists to stop himself from shaking with anticipation.

She grabbed his pants and tried pulling them down, but Bakugou swatted her hands away. "No. No touching. Lay down." He grabbed her neck again and pushed her back down onto the mattress. She shot him an impatient glare.

"Why can't I touch you?"

He ignored the question, pulling his pants off. There was an intimidating tent in his underwear that made Y/N feel dizzy. Jesus Christ. She tried sitting up and reaching for him again, but same as before, he pushed her hands away. Y/N was getting frustrated.

"Let me touch you!" She demanded. "What gives?"

He finally looked at her again, this time with a suspiciously proud smirk. "I like when you beg," he said, this time pushing her chest down and lowering her back onto the mattress. "So needy."

Y/N's face burned at his words. She was frustrated, sure, but damn if he didn't know how to make her throb for him. Her eyes lit up with an evil idea.

She spread her legs, drawing Bakugou's attention downward. Her hands drifted lower and she ran her fingers along herself for him to see. A soft moan escaped her lips and Katsuki's smirk faded. He couldn't look away, and his breathing started speeding up as his body felt heavy with desire.

"You're the one who hasn't cum yet, so I don't think I'm the needy one," she challenged, her other hand reaching up to grab her nipple. It was purely to make him squirm, and it was working beautifully. 

Bakugou was pissed now. He crawled on top of the mattress, looming over her and panting before connecting his lips with her neck again. He kept his face there, sucking and licking the skin as he took his underwear off with his other hand. "You're a brat," he growled. 

Y/N glanced down to see him in all his glory and almost gasped out loud. She always knew Bakugou was beautiful, but his dick too? Fucking predictable. Just looking at it made her clench, and she really really needed to know what he felt like. Her heart was racing in her chest.

Bakugou grinned devilishly at her reaction. "Excited, Tinkerbell?" he bragged. "You should be." His hand reached down and he pumped himself a few times as he supported himself with his elbow, making Y/N almost choke at the sight. She could watch that forever.

"Perv," he teased, a small laugh escaping his lips. The sound made her clench harder.

"Just fuck me already, asshole," Y/N grumbled, reaching down to grab his dick, butagain he swatted her away.

"What did I say? Hands off," he spat. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at him and was about to complain, but then she felt him. His tip was pressed against her entrance, unmoving; he was playing with her as he rubbed himself across her wetness. "Bakugou, I swear to God."

"Impatient, too? Fucking terrible," he teased. "Maybe you don't deserve it."

Y/N's eyes deepened into a glare. She'd had enough.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him inside of her. Bakugou's resolve vanished and his smile dropped. It was too much; too good too quickly. He keeled over, groaning at the feeling. He wasn't prepared for that much pleasure. Bakugou could feel her clenching around him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head before he could get it together.

He felt too vulnerable and it made him angry. Bakugou grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head to restrain her.

"Don't," he threatened, his voice low and dominating.

Y/N didn't listen, as usual, and only pushed him in deeper, sighing with satisfaction. He was stretching her out perfectly and he had already hit that spot inside her that made her toes curl. It was addicting and she shivered, desperate for more.

"You're gonna fucking regret that, Tinkerbell," he snarled. His threat felt empty though, because he was still trying to recover from howgood she felt. If he didn't get it together, he wasn't going to last-- and he desperately wanted this to last. 

Bakugou took a moment to catch his breath, ignoring the proud look on Y/N's face. Once he felt like he could handle it, he pulled out slightly before pushing in again...hard. 

Y/N cried out at the feeling before she could stop herself.

"Is that too much? Too fucking bad. Shouldn't have pissed me off," he spat, that devious smile returning as he started to move. He started slow, trying to adjust to the feeling of being inside her. She was too tight, too warm, too wet, and far too good. He grunted as he increased his pace.

Y/N didn't seem to care that he had won. She was blissed out, her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth open in pleasure. Seeing her like that made it harder to keep it together.

Her body moved with his as he thrusted in and out. The friction was delicious and made his entire body feel like it was on fire. He'd never experienced something this good before-- not with himself, not with the previous girl, not with anything. This was incredible. Nothing was ever going to compare and he knew it.

Bakugou couldn't help it-- small grunts started falling out of his mouth. He was too focused on that addicting sensation to care. His resolve was fading the more he pushed into her. The faster he fucked her, the louder she got; and the louder she got, the better he felt. Making her moan immediately became his new favorite thing. He didn't care if their classmates heard them-- he just needed more of her.

"Fuck, Kat," Y/N groaned. "Holy shit.Holy shit." 

He grinned, proud of the mess he was reducing her to. He wanted to ruin her with his dick, dominate her, prove to her that no one else was going to make her feel this good; but the longer he kept going, the harder it was to focus on her. 

Bakugou couldn't stop it now. His body had kicked into autopilot, a primal need for her settling in as he thrusted in and out, in and out. It was impossible to hold back, and he didn't want to hold back. He was chasing a pleasure unlike anything he'd ever felt. 

With one hand he held her hip and with the other he grabbed her neck to hold her in place as he continued to fuck into her. Y/N felt good,so so good, and the pleasure in his body was reaching dangerous heights. 

"Jesus, Tinkerbell," he groaned. His grunts were turning into moans now-- loud and uncontrolled. He probably looked desperate and unhinged, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about now was chasing that high. "Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. Shit, I'm getting close."

Y/N grabbed his back and pulled him tight against her chest, raking her fingers down his back. He was hitting her G spot repeatedly and each touch made her tighten up in pleasure. The sharp sting of her nails on his back somehow made him feel even better. He was going numb with the sound of her crying out his name.

"I'm gonna--Fuck, Bakugou, I'm gonna cum again--" She moaned, the words barely coming out through her panting.

"Again? Selfish girl," he teased, letting go of her neck and switching to her wrists, pulling them above her head again and pinning her down. With the other, he reached down and rubbed tight circles on her clit. His pace was unrelenting, absolutely ruining her and making her unravel underneath him. "You gonna cum for me again, Tinkerbell?"

"Please," she begged. "Please don't stop, I'm so close--"

"C'mon, Y/N, gimme one more," he breathed, and pushed his lips against hers to kiss her.

She came on his cock, and this time Bakugou could feel it for himself. She cried out into his mouth as he continued to fuck her, her walls fluttering and tightening around him. He groaned at the sensation. He was now completely unable to hold back. 

His jaw dropped open and his eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, and he felt that cord inside him snap. He was cumming too now, pushing inside of her as deep as he could as his release rolled over him. He panted with his head on her shoulder, experiencing the craziest orgasm of his life. He could feel himself pumping into her as he tried to catch his breath, his vision blurring.

When they both came down from their highs, Bakugou pulled out and collapsed on his back next to her. They were trying desperately to catch their breaths. He ran his hands through his hair and let his eyes flutter shut as he panted. "Fuck," he breathed.

Y/N started laughing. Bakugou turned to her, utterly perplexed. "The fuck is so funny?"

"I just had sex with Katsuki Bakugou," she snickered. "And I made him cum."

Bakugou scoffed at her. "Shut the hell up. I did all the work."

"Only because you didn't let me touch you! Wanna explain to me what that was about?" She demanded.

He didn't say anything. He didn't know how to say it, mostly because he still wasn't sure what he felt. The thought of someone having that much power over his body without him being able to control it stressed him out. 

"It's a power thing, isn't it?"

He looked over at her, surprised at how quickly she'd picked up on it.

"It's cool. Everyone's got their fears," she shrugged. She was trying to piss him off, and he fell for it.

Bakugou sat up and glared at her. "It's not a fear."

"Mhm. Sure."

"It's not a fear!"

Y/N eyed him with suspicion before sitting up and climbing on top of him, making him move back against the wall. "Alright, then this shouldn't be a problem then," she said, picking up his hands and pulling them above his head. She leaned forward and started kissing his neck.

"Fuck, wait, you can't--" He pushed her off, his breath catching in his throat.

She laughed. "Not a fear, huh?"

He sighed in frustration. "Fine. I just... like being in control. Is that so fucking bad?"

"Hmm... well it might be, because I like being in control too," Y/N said.

Bakugou felt chills run up his spine.

| Masterlist | more snippets from The Tinker | Ask Me Anything! |

[swordlux]

Black Butler, My Demon Saviour | Ciel & Sebastian

Summary: A reimagining of the aftermath of season 1 from both Ciel & Sebastian's perspectives. Mature content. Please tread lightly.

Note: I wrote this a long time ago after finishing the first season, when I was reeling from all the emotions this beautiful series gives you. The relationship between Ciel and Sebastian is intriguing and complex, and I wanted to explore it. By no way am I condoning any underage relationships. I believe the tension between these two comes from an unrealized love, and it doesn't necessarily have to be sexual.

(Originally posted on ao3 and because nobody killed me for it, I decided to post it here. Also decided to include a little amv I made at the end too)

Enjoy~

***

The young earl lay limp in the demon’s hand. His wispy black hair lay softly against his ivory skin—eyelids closed, highlighting the soft long eyelashes that tickled his skin. His mouth lay open in a silent sigh. A white glove lay discarded on the gravelled floor at his feet. The painted long fingers it belonged to were stretched coldly from the base of the lord’s neck to the top of his head. Those fingers revelled in the feel of the soft hair and the warmth that radiated so strongly from his innocent body.

The boy had given up his soul so willingly, yet there was a fierce pride that the young earl held onto, even as the demon moved his face in close and prepared to inhale the delectable soul out of his tiny form.

They had both been waiting for this moment—the boy in fear, hidden well by a mask of loathing—and the demon in excruciating anticipation. Every time the demon looked at the boy he could feel the boy's golden life force percolating his tongue. The bright purity and the fiery heat cursing through his body, tingling, and lighting up sensations that had been dormant for the past 200 years. A sensation finer than any orgasm, he knew this boy’s soul would provide. He could barely restrain the ravenous animal in him now, threatening to break his ever-composed grace. The boy had told him to have his way with him, to make it hurt, and one part of him wanted nothing more than to rip through that flesh and squeeze every drop of fearful agony out of him. Yet, looking at the boy lying so quaintly in his arms, so trusting until the last moment, there was an even bigger part of him that wanted something else...

To give this boy the happiest of last moments.

“It’s all over now my Lord, you don’t have to suffer anymore.” The demon brushed the bangs away from Ciel's moonlit forehead and stared adoringly at the boy one last time. He would savour this moment. The breath floating, warm and tenderly out of his soft, pink lips—lips that could say words both crude as reaper’s breath, and light as sunshine. Lips that had the capacity to grace the world with the most brilliant of smiles, but so often remained poised tight. When his lord was resting like this, he often thought him akin to a baby sheep. And if the Lord was the sheep, he was the wolf, and it was finally time for the wolf to move in.

***

“Where are we?” Ciel Phantomhive barked. The cold fear in his voice was just barely contained by his sharp angry tones. He was aware of himself, he recognized his own voice, but besides that he was in a maze of darkness. He felt weightless. Ethereal.

At once he felt an overwhelming familiar presence slide in beside him. One that had remained loyal and made the past 3 long years somewhat bearable. It was that of a dark, sultry presence, one with unsurmountable elegance and wicked beauty. He was supposed to be an insipid creature of nonsubstance, but his sarcastic personality had slowly trickled through over the years. Ciel was angered at how much the presence warmed his body and made his intangible muscles relax. He ignored the fireball that blazed deep in his chest. A feeling that had become increasingly harder to ignore over the years.

Ciel began to see form taking shape around him. It started with the demon, and his breath caught in his throat. Sebastian had always begged him to look away whenever he took on his true form, saying he didn’t want to disgrace his master’s presence with his horrid appearance. But Ciel had snuck a few glances on the separate occasions, and he always found the opposite was true. It was dreadfully hard to look away. To Ciel, the demon was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. It was so beautiful in fact, that it made the rest of the world utterly dull and senile in comparison, and he often found himself yearning for another look, throwing himself into dangerous situations that would force the demon to bring out his true form. The last fight on the bridge with the angel had been exquisite. Ciel watched from the slanting crane, ignoring his servant’s orders. It was why he had been caught off guard when the angel caused a rupture that made the whole structure shake, sending him flying across the platform and to his ultimate death. He didn’t hold back now. If Sebastian had dragged him from death and into this place, he deserved to get a good look.

The demon was more beautiful than ever. His body was that of curling and evolving strands of black smoke. If you could call it black. It was deeper than any black that Ciel had seen, and had seemed to acquire a sort of untraceable glow around it’s edges. His ardent eyes were the most striking. They burned a brilliant mix between bright fuchsia and red, and seemed to leave a trail of hunger everywhere they went. He held the air of the inner earth. Like an obsidian rock that had formed over the past 200 centuries. Every curl of smoke held a secret about the world, and his total presence alone proclaimed that everything you ever knew about the world was a lie. He was a long swirling path into the deepest of nightmares. A lurking knowing silence that waited in empty alleys. He was God’s shadow.

The heat in Ciel’s chest flushed to his cheeks. He was glad it was dark, and that the demon couldn’t see them, and that wherever they were seemed to be some sort of spiritual world, though he had no doubt that the demon could sense the boy’s admiration.

“Just relax and watch my lord,” Sebastian purred.

Around them, images began to pop out of the blackness and swirl in a tornado like formation, enclosing them in their center. Flashes of cobblestone, ornate desserts, and untimely late nights. It was a kaleidoscope of memories.

Ciel breathed in a sharp sigh as he watched the past 3 years of his life circling around him.

“So this is it then. This is my reel of memories. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting a demon like you to take such a reaperly route.”

“That’s not exactly it my lord. Look closer.”

He did, and a single image came into focus. At once, it thrust toward him, hitting the young lord with an incredible wave of vertigo, and the next moment he was thrust into a landscape of serenity. He watched as the most pleasant moments of his life went by—moments he had forgotten himself when he was living. Taking his first steps, strolling through the fields with his mother—all these little things that made him realize that life was never really as bad as he’d made it. He felt a sensation he hadn’t had for a long time in those last years of his life—happiness. And as the memories played, he found himself making peace with everything that transpired.

It was as he was fading away, about to surrender to his ending, that something pulled at him, ripping him from both death and life.

***

Sebastian gasped and pulled out of the scene as he released hold of the boy’s soul. His immortal heart was racing. His body danced between his cold, eternal skin, and the warm trails of the Ciel’s soul that he had ingested. He had been enjoying himself so thoroughly, feeding off the sublime emotions of bliss as he played his lord his most pleasant memories. So why had he stopped? And why was there this deep fear in the pit of his stomach? He choked on an unfamiliar feeling. He looked down at the boy, and gasped. Ciel Phantomhive was never one to be loved much by the sun, but never had he been as pale as he was now. His skin had almost gone translucent, showing bright blue veins where blood struggled to keep on flowing. And he was cold to the touch. As cold as the demon himself.

“My little lord,” he gasped.

Ice-cold panic filled the pit of his stomach, and Sebastian began to remember why had pulled his divine feast to an abrupt stop. As they walked through the memories together, Sebastian could no longer doubt the feelings that had haunted him over the past 3 years.

In some way, or another, he had loved the boy.

He couldn’t imagine the world without his fervent presence. However human he was, he seemed to understand the demon in a sense that no other ever could. Sebastian had  spent all his immortal life walking these impassionate streets century after century, never to find a kindred soul; yet here was one right in front of him. And he was about to devour it.

Sebastian couldn’t deny that him and the young lord shared the same mind. Every time the lord made a decision, he felt a surge of surprise and pride. He always seemed to do exactly what the demon was thinking. They were kindred spirits, and perhaps in another life when he was human, or the boy was a demon, they could be the best of friends. He had felt that even more as the boy’s soul began to merge within his. There was great havoc to be wreaked on this earth that only such a boy as him could bring. This realization threatened to pull Sebastian back to the moment he became a demon all those years ago.

The boy didn’t breathe, but Sebastian knew there was still life in him, still some of his soul to be saved, and it was risky but Sebastian knew of a way.

He hoisted the boy over his shoulder and leapt into the night.

He was going to do something no demon had ever done before.

He was going to break his contract, because the boy, he realized, deserved to live.

The End

***

True Form (amv)

Song: Mark by SHAHMEN

Thank you for reading! I am so captivated by the darkness and depth of emotion in Kuroshitsuji, honestly anytime I get to interact with it is a pleasure. I may continue this piece after I rewatch the series, but for now I think I shall leave it as is. In the meantime, please enjoy this crappy quality amv I made while trying to explore these feelings more.

Much love!

[cassanovasanchor]

♛|| The Empire of Aublion ||♛

"Greetings, and welcome to the world of Aublion: a superearth type planet located in the Milky Way galaxy, about halfway through the Carina-Sagittarius arm.Its a relatively advanced space-age world inhabited by the large beings known as Sadrids, and their much smaller planetary predecessors, Gackles. Come join me as I flesh their universe out further and explore whats waiting for us, both cosmic and terrestrial!"

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                                             || Project Name ||

                                                    The Empire of Aublion

                                            || Main Premise ||

Aublion is currently being built to continue a project i started when i took what is now Aublion, from my fleshed-out-past-anything-canon, AU Homestuck based planet of Beforus. I developed a rich and complex history based on some characters i rped from that AU and the planet around them, and I wanted to do more with that setting, without being restrained by a fandoms canon. This project has technically been in process since 2016, but i began major revamping and started getting serious worldbuilding and original species information and content out in 2019.

My longterm goal is to have this be an open ended project, where people can create their own Sadrids, and plot out a story with them! (And make a webcomic with my fiancé in the setting as well!)

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                                              || Image Info || The map shown below is of the entire planet of Aublion, created in Inkarnate. An interactible version, with labels is available in 4k on Aublions WorldAnvil.

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                                               || Sadrid Visuals ||

What is a Sadrid?

A Sadrid is an incredibly tall carnivorous humanoid (10'5"-16'7"), possessing venom, digitigrade legs, paws, horns, long claws and a tail. They can switch from a bipedal stance to a quadrupedal stance at will, due to their longer arms, and rear connected skull positioning.

The three subspecies outside a "standard" Sadrid ( called a Lijdroa) are called Yalvit (winged avianesque Sadrids), Edu (Amphibious water dwelling Sadrids with gills), and Hroven (Subterranean Edu and Lijdroa that have evolved to live entirely under the ground) Below are example refsheets of each species. Please click for full detail and to read the flavortext!

                                                    Lijdroa

                                                   Edu

                                                   Yalvit

                                                   Hroven

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                                               || Other Info ||

Aublion currently has nearly a small books worth of information about it. I have information on culture, society and how they act, foods ,examples of music that sounds similar to what they listen to, information on technology they use, an in progress language called Tábufuian that has its own script, font ive made, translator, and dictionary with nearly 4k words, information about the species themselves, and how they evolved, their two main religions, and much more! Feel free to ask about the world or Sadrids in the reblogs, comments, or, check out how to join the server below!

Thank you for reading so far, and if you're interested in knowing more about Sadrids and Aublion when this is all done, i have a dedicated discord server where i post information not yet released to the WorldAnvil, artwork, WIPs, and more with a small community i have gathered. (we also have rp spaces if you'd like to join with your created Sadrid, as well as areas you can share your own worldbuilding!!) If you would like the link to join, just send me a DM on here! If you're over 18, ill give you the link (Not really for nsfw, its mainly due to everyone being in their early-mid twenties and up, and we would much prefer to keep it to a similarly aged crowd for our hangout space!)

[writermask-0807]

FORBIDDEN FRUIT PART THREE - TEACHER GAKUHO X STUDENT READER

A/n: Hellooooo peoplesss. Writermask is back from the dead! Anyways, I'm finally finished with Forbidden Fruit, and once again, my sincerest of apologies for bad content, but do know that I try my best. I think I'll be lucky if I manage to get even one like to this post, cus I wrote it wayyyy too detailed and I'm pretty sure it's boring... I did try to fix it, and here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Keys: {} for his most prominent thoughts.

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, OOC Gakuho, cringe writing, (blame my sleep-deprived ass), and most words will be reused, since my vocabulary is painfully short, and English is my second language. Also, a lot here will not make complete sense, and sorta violent Gakuho???

Anyways, enough of my crap. Enjoy!

PERHAPS, at times, your lack of observation was truly a blessing, Gakuho thought idly, lazily twirling the accursed picture between his long, slender digits, rich pools of dark hyacinth drenched with the distant, hazy mists of memories, as he disinterestedly studied the photograph flicking between the gaps of his nimble fingers.

Because earlier that evening, he had barely managed to compose himself at the sight of you, his precious darling, with the glassy glaze of unshed tears brimming thickly in your lustrous e/c hues, as they had swirled with a kaleidoscope of vivid, vibrant colors, rich with a wealth of emotions that unknowingly displayed the inner battle you'd been torn between, the boiling turmoil that he knew was tormenting your soul, coming in the bitter form of the hot, scalding tears forming in your eyes, the glitter of the salty remnants clinging insistently to your long lashes as they fluttered slowly, trying to blink the tears away, and he'd watched, half mesmerized and helpless, brain malfunctioning for a few short seconds, as the pearlescent liquid soaked the delicate porcelain of your reddened cheeks.

You'd looked so innocent then, doe eyes enlarged with the hot, stinging swell of unshed tears, your dainty palms curled around his much broader shoulders for support as you'd collapsed against him, petite, crumpled up form trembling with quaking tremors as you'd shuddered against him, the h/c shaded tips of your hair sticking out haphazardly at odd angles, your bottom lip, pink and dewy and irresistible, wobbling with a barely restrained sob, which he knew was clamping your throat, as shudders licked vehemently at your tender, supple flesh, so vulnerable and delicate, this fragile, fragile doll of a meek, timid girl, all pretty eyes and red lips, blanching flesh and ivory, unblemished complexion, crafted by the most flawless of porcelains, as though sculpted by the hands of Gods, and bred by forgotten deities.

And yet, you'd reeked of unbridled sorrow and misery, that reflected in a sharp flash of that aching, aching hurt that flickered painfully in your glimmering orbs of e/c, as you'd stolen a frightened glance at his impassive facade, and he'd felt guilt ram into him with the wrecking force of a freight train, the sweltering tip of a white-hot rod twisting his insides with a sharp feeling that left him slightly breathless, and in silent bafflement at the sheer amount of roaring emotion he felt, an ache he felt deep in the rattle of his bones, a resounding difference that made him feel as though something inside of him crumbled at the sight of your unwarranted despair.

Guilt pulled at his heartstrings, plucking at the delicate cords of his sanity and twisting and writhing a different sort of hurt within him, one that was foreign in his psyche, but agonizing nonetheless, the painful, albeit bizarre sensation feeling as though someone were sifting a roiling, pulsating mass of what felt like shards of broken glass beneath his flesh, making knots form in the pit of his stomach, rare anxiety twisting them with twinges of nauseating unease, and the guilt ate him alive, slowly but surely, gnawing at the frayed seams of his patience. Guilt at knowing he'd smeared your purity, staining what'd once been the very essence of innocence with the strong command of darkness that followed him in its wake, colored your empty canvas with the morbid, dark shades of his own existence, had taken advantage of your naivety.

{And yet, there was that dark, dark part of him that did not regret anything, a fragment of his twisted, bitter soul that, despite the harsh consequences of dappling in the forbidden, and tasting your ripe, untouched innocence and tainting it for himself, that yearned for more, more…}

And yet, despite all superior pretences and sophisticated masquerades, in the end, he was still unfortunately human, and he was selfish, and addicted to the sugary sweetness in his bitter life that was you. And if he were an anchor for you to remain rooted, you were his salvation, the flicker of hope and the spark of light in the eternal, everlasting darkness his unfortunate existence was doused within.

So, resolve steeling with a rekindled firmness, he'd coiled his arms around your slim waist wordlessly, movements almost mechanical and stiff with abrupt shock, controlled by mere muscle memory and absent will, as his mind reeled at the sight of your beautiful, tear-stained face -{your pained expression had been so raw, so painful to behold and the odd coil of emotion inside his chest tightened, making it hard for him to breathe, and he'd felt cold fury coursing poisonously through his bloodstream, surging like molten lava and threatening to explode. No-one had the audacity harm you, his precious darling, no-one, damnit-!}-, as he'd pressed you tighter against him, steadying your quivering, small form against his larger frame, a broad palm coming to rest at the rigid column of your spine as he'd coaxed you into his firm, but gentle embrace, magenta hues glittering garnet with the heavy promise of impending doom, that he would definitely, and swiftly deliver mercilessly when he would deal with that yellow-hued menace.

{How could it have gone wrong? How could it all have gone to waste, all of his careful planning, all of his efforts rendered useless… How did it all unravel at the hands of someone as- as despicable as him? How did it still end up hurting you?!} And then, a more quiet, melancholy voice chiming in, {Despite all of his wealth and power and intellect, how did he fail to protect you…?} But he knew the answer, felt it deep within the rattle of his bones, and the ache in his thudding heart. {Because he was selfish, because of his terrible craving for your ripe, untasted innocence, and he knew it had been his fault, his fault for staining your untouched, fragile perfection, for tilting your world and painting your reality in a film of darkness. And yet, he was still unwilling to let you go, to have mercy and rid you of his dark presence. But then, it would have hurt him more than you. Indeed, he truly was selfsh, and undeserving of you, an angel in the cruel purgatory he suffered.}

"It isn't your fault. It was never your fault." He'd murmured with a firm finality, voice low and raw as he allowed a thin stream, a fraction of his raging emotions to seep into his velvety tone as he'd assured you, sultry and private and only for you to hear as he'd pressed himself closer to you, arms wound securely around your petite, frail form, breathing in the naturally sweet fragrance you secreted, alllowing the chorus of his drumming heartbeat and fluttering pulse to mingle with yours, as you'd exchanged soft, warm breaths. It wasn't your fault, because he knew it was his.

But he was selfish, and he would continue to keep you close to his aching heart.

And he'd marveled at the fact that you reciprocated his selfish desires with a burning need of your own, the thin nails of your fingers biting sharply into the bone of his shoulder blades as your arms curled tighter around his torso, face, still wet with the shimmer of tears, buried into the crook of his neck as you rested your weary head on his shoulder, mind undoubtedly clouded by a haze, and despite the occasional hitch in your stuttering breath, and sniffle catching in your throat, you'd allowed him to soothe your tears, lull your withering despair away, even after all the torture you'd soldiered through because of him, like the brave, brave girl you were. And despite everything, you'd remained happy and content nestled in his arms and swaddled in his scent, and it baffled him, baffled him just how willing you were to offer yourself up to him despite crumbling away, bit by bit, just how eager you were to please, to expose even the most intimate, personal values you held dear to your heart, show vulnerability when he could so easily twist it and turn it against you, dig blades under your flesh and watch you bleed.

But, for some incomprehensible reason, he chose to kiss instead, lips gently grazing across your soft, alabaster skin in a tender, loving reward, watching the heat bloom in a delicate dusting of crimson across your cheeks and crawling down your neck, and the shimmer of relief glistening wet and bright in your luminous eyes.

And then the air had shifted, and unspoken vows had been exchanged with your breathless gasps, and his deep, calming inhales as his mouth met yours, fervent but gentle, delicate and promising, and filled with so many emotions and words that he couldn't quite decipher. The words had streamed soundless and silent, threading unsaid in the atmosphere, hovering slight on your quivering mouth, and his sharp, silver tongue, and though Gakuho knew that neither of you were quite ready to share the words that would bind you both to a proper relationship from this awkward, abstract situation-ship you were hopelessly tangled within, he'd mouthed the shape of a soft, intimate promise against your tender flesh as he'd kissed you in silent reverence, voice inaudible even to his own ears, more of an oath to himself than you- to never let you be hurt ever again, and he intended to fulfill it.

So yes, at specific times, your lack of observation was truly a blessing, as it had been his saving grace, for he'd nearly lost his glacial composure, Gakuho thought, and his jaw clenched at the memory of your e/c orbs glimmering with the delicate coating of tears, soaking your cheeks wet, and the whirl of insecurity and fear and despair he spied within those lustrous, glittering irises.

It had elicted a reaction unexpected from both you and himself, his mouth thinning into a wan, grim line, the sharp slope of his sharp, charming features painted cold with a stinging, forced indifference, bereft of any emotions, a slight twitch marring his furrowed brow, faux calm aura melting into something more sinister, murderous in its stiflingly dark presence even, an unpleasant sensation of scorching beginning to bubble inside his chest, hands clenching into tight fists as the sharp edges of his nails sunk into the flat of his palm, threatening to draw blood, the soft hyacinth of his eyes slowly bleeding into swirls of wrathful crimson and scarlet, spinning with the deepening shade of freshly split blood.

It had stirred an emotion within the deepest core of his very being, the incomprehensible simmer of raw anger pulsing beneath his marble, collected facade, a feeling he'd long since considered futile, the familiar but forgotten surge of molten lava coursing violently through his veins, the coil of anger twisting his guts and boiling his insides with a bloodlust he could not satiate, a roaring, aching hunger scalding his throat with the bitter, bleeding taste of unadulterated fury as it gnawed restlessly at his frayed nerves, rage, an ugly beast rearing it's head, talons digging into the shuddering arch of his spine, making his shoulders quake with barely restrained tremors, though they were from burning anger rather than the despair that reflected from your face.

But despite the abstract whirl of emotions shifting a roiling, contorting storm of twisting turmoil within him, festering restlessly like a plague, and feasting on his frayed nerves, and the bitter remembrance of once cherished memories and the absence of a precious person -{Ikeda, Ikeda, Ikeda, you were still a child, only a child, a child… so why did you do it? Why did you leave, why would you hurt me like this-?!}- the sight of your tears had brought him, and in spite of the yawning rift of anger tearing the fabric of his soul apart, Gakuho lifted the deep, glimmering wine of his gaze to meet the the sight of the yellow-tinted creature before him with a faux, deadly calm that he did not feel.

"Ah, Koro-sensei, how nice of you to finally show up."

He addressed the creature coolly, unfazed by the strong gust of wind that accompanied its sudden presence, the fierce gale rattling the bare insides of his bleak, colorlessly cordial office, as it whipped the brushes of ember-hued hair with a harsh, invisible force. The scalding rage that flooded his mind tightened its grasp upon the sight of the original perpetrator whom he'd stemmed back from all the rumors and photographs, the reason for this hopelessly tangled mess, and your precious, unwarranted tears. The unadulterated fury coiling and snaking around his ribs constricted his stuttering breath at this harsh reminder, and the wild thumping of his frantic, angry heart palpitated stubbornly underneath his ribs, cold fury simmering violently underneath the flawless marble of his flesh, as he felt his boiling wrath pulsing like the undiluted, steady flow of poisonous power through his veins, itching and crawling like the scuttle of insects beneath his skin, a power begging to be released and wrought for ruination and destruction.

Once he'd realized that he'd allowed a trickle of stiflingly dark hostility to stream through the false, composed aura surrounding him, Gakuho hastened to guard his reaction, quickly smoothing out the scathing expression to a blank mask, regaining his bearings. It wouldn't do him well to lose his cool so early on.

However, it didn't mean that he couldn't control it, sharpen and harness it, aim to kill, and the odd, almost feral glint that this sudden dark thought elicited from him glittering uncloaked, and molten garnet in his eyes did not go unnoticed by his rival.

It was with this intention that he spoke, voice as smooth and deceptively unperturbed as always, a honeyed, sultry caress of dark velvet tumbling off of soft lips, sunny tones sounding warm and perhaps even touched by a tinge of invitation, but it was only a well-constructed, honey-coated lie spilling forth from his mouth like the richest of wines, a sickly sweet venom laced with stinging mockery dripping from cold, twisted lips. And though his voice gave nothing away, there was a certain frigidness to his eyes that did not meet his false smile and cheerful tones. Gakuho knew that the creature had detected the sharp, cold accusing undertone coloring his faux cheery voice, poised taut and more than ready to stab and poison, but as polite as always, it didn't let it show, the usually stupid, wide smile stretching from its yellow, bulbous head, showing the rows of pearly white teeth, a thoughtless grin smearing and stretching the yellow flesh taut, as though its head was full of candy and rainbows, utterly remorseless and shamelessly so.

{As though it held no inkling whatsoever to the hurt it caused you, the pain and the chaos it inflicted and injected within your innocent mind, the ache and the world-weariness that clung onto your withering bones, the ghost of the tears that'd pooled in your eyes, the anxiety and the pain and the despair, as though your feelings hadn't mattered at all-!}

It irked him beyond reason, and Gakuho couldn't quite snuff the annoyed twitch marring his brow despite the sickeningly sweet saccharine of the unwavering, false smile twisting his lips.

"My sincerest of apologies, Chairman. I was caught up in a new assassina - " It began with the stirrings of a new excuse, but he interjected calmly, amethyst hues bleeding with the dusty brilliance of the shifting cosmos, painfully sharp and glinting calculatively in the light of the weeping dusk, tone colored with a dark, cold undertone, as he coated the sentence in a carefully constructed rich, baritone timbre, a deliberate bitterness souring each and every word that fell effortlessly from cold, curved lips, dripping acid enough to melt and sear and burn.

"As much as I would love to hear about Class E's most recent efforts on your assassination, I'm afraid I have summoned you here for another reason entirely, Koro-sensei."

Lifting the photograph he'd been absentmindedly flicking earlier between the gaps of his fingers, Gakuho leveled the creature with a blank, scorching stare that would make hell freeze over, with a smile so sickly sweet that it felt bitter plastered on his curled mouth, unadulterated poison gleaming sharp in his piercing gaze as he looked expectantly at the creature, the violet glare of his cosmic-tinted irises glittering molten carmine with the cold, murderous glow of the plaguing rage festering deep within him, and with his head tilted precariously, allowing the light of the dying sun to illuminate one side of his sloped face, drenching the other with a velvety darkness, Gakuho knew he must've looked unhinged, because he saw it recoil a bit, flinching, embarrassment staining a rosy pink to the yellow of its flesh.

"It has come to my attention that a certain person has been spreading rumors about myself and a student, going so far as leaking false photographs… You wouldn't happen to know anyone who is the original perpetrator, yes?" He inquired quietly, voice deceptively calm and soft, but there was a certain frosty chill to his tone that rippled with a silent, compelling authority, as he pinned the creature in place with a frigid, scalding stare that was not quite hostile- not yet anyway, but neither was it very calm. In a way, Gakuho mused, he held a vague semblance dimly reminiscent to glass, because there was a certain layer of fragility to his patience, and it could could break at any given moment.

{But that's the thing with glass. You break it, and you're the one that's bleeding.}

Gakuho assessed the creature with a sharp, almost feral glint burning in the darkening muave of his blood-drenched, moon-kissed eyes, the column of his spine arched rigid, and the sturdy, broad planes of his shoulders hunched taut and tense, posture poised with a deadly elegance, as though he were a predator ready to strike at any given moment, as the yellow-skinned creature recoiled a step back, wincing as his twisted barb hit the nail on the head, and rubbing two of its tentacles together in a sheepish manner as a slight coating of delicate primrose dusted the sunny tone of its skin.

His smile sharpened and tugged taut at his mouth and clenched jaw.

"N-no! Why would you think that?! It's not like I spied on you two on that romantically forbidden evening and took photos and spread them all around the school, and saved extra copies just in case and gossiped with other students while in disguise-...!" It rambled on senselessly, stuttering and stumbling over words, so painfully obvious, apparently paired with the inability to lie, and had Gakuho been another insignificant person in another circumstance, he would've burst out laughing, except he wasn't and knew better, for he didn't find your current predicament a laughing matter, or one to be amusement inducing.

Instead, there was a barely veiled glance of skepticism, and the surge of incredulity, before the familiar upsurge of thinly jaded anger invading through his senses.

The hot simmer of pulsing rage quickened beneath his glacial facade, and Gakuho felt the hairline cracks spidering the surface of his marble mask beginning to deepen, a twisted sensation of murderous wrath worming in through the dark crevices, poisoning his senses and clouding his vision an angry red. The tendrils of poisonous, cold fury creeping through his veins stifled his senses with the sheer intensity of its fierce, white-hot power, twisting and scraping his insides like a red-hot rod, wrenching and churning his gut, squeezing his racing heart with the sharp bite of its clawed talons, each gaunt digit of explosive fury digging deeper into the wild, pounding organ, threatening to make it burst from his contricted chest.

Instead of displaying this surprising myriad of emotions, however, Gakuho simply hummed a noncommittal sound, curling his nimble digits around the photograph, studying the scene playing within it (his lips pressed against yours, an arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer, and your eyes, shining bright with the kaleidoscopic glitter of surprise) disinteredly before crumpling it into a ball.

"Is that so?" Gakuho crooned softly, sarcasm lacing every rich, ambrosia dipped word as they rolled off of his sharp tongue, venomous and ready to stab and twist the bleeding wound for good measure, sugar-coated lies spilling easily from honeyed lips, though they were strangely hollow, and flat. The thread, the delicate gossamer string quilting his fraying patience together, was beginning to waver and threatening to snap, and he turned cold. And as Gakuho raised the frigid, uncaring carmine of his gaze to meet the creature's, cosmic-lidded hues exotic and cold in their magnificent, violet glory, their gazes clashed and collided with enough intensity to produce sparks.

Steepling and threading his fingers together in a calculative gesture, he casually leaned back into the lavish fabric of the chair, though his muscles stretched taut upon his wary bones, refusing to relax in the presence of a being that he knew was intelligent (just stubborn and perhaps even smart enough not to show its sharp intellect), marble mask guarded and unrelenting, as though he were a serpent, coiled and fast and cunning, ready to spring and strike at any given moment, fangs dripping with venom.

Gakuho stared at the creature with a purely predatorial knife edge to his vermilion gaze, honed sharp by the ripple of thick tension charging the air with the violent presence of electricity, his eyes blood-drenched rubies dripping with rich, liquid sangria, as he clashed gazes with the yellow menace, whirling with lost swirls of buried, gentle hyacinth, and the faint glitter of stardust as something dark, and terribly dangerous flickered behind the frame of his lashes.

He stared vehemently, gaze blade-edged and challenging, and this time, the mellow-skinned creature stared back, perhaps even a tad defiantly as it met his gaze head on, no longer drooping and shriveling underneath the chilly frost of his blank stare like a wilting flower, and he absently noted that the pink hue of embarrassment had receded its sunny skin.

No words were exchanged in the heavy, deafening silence that ensued, and both parties refused to acknowledge the killing intent rolling off of him in crushing, nauseating waves of pure, unfiltered darkness, crackling the atmosphere frigid and stifling it with the strong command of darkness that followed him in its wakr. The clear, heavy threat of impending doom descended on the pregnant silence like a vulture to carcass, indescribably hungry and intent upon feasting.

A battle without words, though just as fierce, between two formidable rivals.

There was a heavy, stifling silence that would've knocked the breath out of a lesser mortal's lungs, laced with the poisonous, violent presence of killing intent rolling through the thickening tension, and then, a gentle knife buttering through, persuasive but bracing, - "I can't say I can tell you who is responsible for Y/N's plight, " The creature began carefully, thoughtfully, even, "but I do have a question, regarding the… rumors, if you will. "

"Oh? Do elaborate." Gakuho curtly prompted it to continue, arching a sleek, perfectly manicured brow in question, slowly urging the roiling, sifting mass of darkness to thin, a certain layer of velvet interest veiling his tone, and this time, it was genuine.

"I do not mean to imply anything of the sort, but, do you by any chance," It tilted its bulbous head curiously, and for all the chaos and hell it thought would follow next, its voice was gentle, and soft as it spoke. "Care for Y/N?"

This time, Gakuho truly couldn't mask the ripple of shock crossing his aristocratic, sharp features and widening his plum hues with a distinct surprise at the unexpectance of its genuine question, unconsciously allowing a plethora of emotions to paint the empty canvas of his marble mask, before forcefully schooling his expression into that same emotionless, blank state once more. Ignoring the turmoil wreaking havoc within his mindscape, he weighed the importance of the sudden question imposed on him, guarding and planning his next action carefully.

But despite his rigid frame, the hunched shoulders and the frown dipping the corners of his lips, he knew he hadn't mistaken the sincerity of this genuine, curious inquiry, and he wondered whether or not to answer truthfully, to forgo the anger and the pent-up frustration, to face the creature with the sting of honesty.

And then, the image of your bright smile flickered into existence within his mindscape, the relieving freshness of your bubbly, meek personality, and the simple beauty of your somehow carefree yet timid, shy smile quirking the corners of your plump lips, the chime of melodious bells that accompanied your laughter, the h/c tufts of your rich hair dancing with the cool breeze, the fragments of your innocence, untainted and tempting, and the shimmer of that incomprehensible, tender emotion that flitted in your rich pools of e/c, and the soft, gentle gaze you blessed him with… and then the memory intertwined fingers, whispered promises, a mingled heartbeat beating as one - love, and Gakuho suddenly came to a grinding halt, an unsure decision somehow firm in its sincere honesty.

The words he'd not yet said to you, always hovering on the tip of the tongue, the shape of the intimate promise he'd whispered against your flesh, the tender press of his mouth against yours, the salt of your tears somehow sweet on his lips…

The solemn, magenta gleam of his eyes softened to a warm shimmer in a raw finality, as he raised his head to meet the creature's gaze, the harsh and hollow expression he wore fading into a soft, unconsciously gentle smile tilting his lips as Gakuho finally admitted, as he said in soft, reverent utterance, "I do."

And somehow, Gakuho felt as though such simple, yet meaningful words had made all the difference, and the victory marring the mellow-skinned creature and stretching its mouth into a satisfied grin was unmistakable.

He had planned this, Gakuho's mind echoed with a dawning realization, and before he could say anything else, Koro-sensei spoke first, interjecting. "I see. If it alleviates your worries, Chairman, I shall take care to erase the photographs and such," He turned his head back to face Gakuho's bewildered, questioning gaze, before finishing his sentence with a broad smile, flashing the rows of milky white teeth. "After all, it seems we both care deeply about our students. You more than me, it seems." He added cheekily before disappearing in another strong gust of wind, once again rattling the bare insides of his domain.

He heaved an incredulous sigh, before leaning back in the chair, but despite everything, he couldn't help the small, content smile tugging persistently the corners of his mouth.

"Forbidden fruit perhaps does taste the best, after all."

[eccentric-nucleus]

so there's this old actionbutton review of prototype (that has apparently been removed from the actual website, which i guess is fine b/c on reflection the review overall isn't super good) that has a part that i think about a lot.

Prototype is clearly a game that was originally meant to be a challenging action game that took the concept of super-powered main characters out of the ego-trip where you simply explode in ever greater fireballs the entire universe, like a Final Fantasy character in a platformer, and into the realm of the thoroughbred racer. A realm where the power is a tool that must be used carefully, because there’s so much of it, that there’s too much of it. Restraint is what we play video games for, in a sense. We restrain ourselves from making the wrong choices. We take pleasure in our sense of timing. We enjoy learning and growing and doing and, above all, not doing (the same thing over and over, due to failure).

b/c like... yeah that's the thing with power? power invites complications; that's kind of what power is: the ability to affect change at greater magnitudes, which invariably means a reduction in your fidelity of control. unintended side-effects and all that. but the entire concept of the 'power fantasy' is about not having the drawbacks of power, & that's what video games are all about, so it makes sense that that doesn't really come up that much in games. leveling up is just Good, it makes you better at things, because if it made you worse gamers would find that to be bad design, etc

this also comes up constantly in progression fantasies. unsurprisingly!! b/c their thematic content is entirely the power fantasy, so of course getting more powerful is an unalloyed good.

there's another prose chunk in a similar vein i think about a lot that's from a wizard of earthsea, near the beginning: duny (as a kid, before he's named ged) has his island raided by barbarians and they're gonna burn down the town and kill everybody.

He had worked all night at the forge-bellows, pushing and pulling the two long sleeves of goathide that fed the fire with a blast of air. Now his arms so ached and trembled from that work that he could not hold out the spear he had chosen. He did not see how he could fight or be of any good to himself or the villagers. It rankled at his heart that he should die, spitted on a Kargish lance, while still a boy: that he should go into the dark land without ever having known his own name, his true name as a man. He looked down at his thin arms, wet with cold fog-dew, and raged at his weakness, for he knew his strength. There was power in him, if he knew how to use it, and he sought among all the spells he knew for some device that might give him and his companions an advantage, or at least a chance. But need alone is not enough to set power free: there must be knowledge.

(incidentally i think reading progression fantasies has made me a worse reader. they're frequently so wordy and yet nothing happens, and the writing never really says anything or has specific sentences that capture the mind, and so i've gotten into this really bad habit of skim-reading through them snatching out nouns and verbs. so now when i go back to reading prose that's actually, you know, good, i still end up skimming it and missing out on relevant details, since relevant details actually matter in real stories, instead of just being wordcount padding.)

anyway the rest of a wizard of earthsea is basically all about the relationship between knowledge and power and what responsibility comes with that.

i guess this is yet another post all about how i really don't like the thematic simplicity of all the progression fantasy but boy have i been thinking about that a lot as i've been writing other stuff. fun fact, 'goblin cave', my royalroad story, and 'blinded by the summer sun', the tmnt porn i've been writing, have basically the same themes b/c they're both actually about the blunt nature of power + the problem of needing power to exist in the world vs. the grotesque nature of people who seek only power. b/c as you can see by all the above that is kind of a thing i've been thinking about a lot recently. it's just one of them has turtle porn.

i mean i'm fairly sure i've mentioned it here also but they're very heavily influenced by dead zones of the imagination, which i would recommend everybody read. it's only like 20 pages.

To be more precise: violence may well be the only form of human action by which it is possible to have relatively predictable effects on the actions of a person about whom you understand nothing. Pretty much any other way one might try to influence another’s actions, one at least has to have some idea who they think they are, who they think you are, what they might want out of the situation, and what their aversions and proclivities are. Hit them over the head hard enough and all of this becomes irrelevant.

It is true that the effects one can have by disabling or killing someone are very limited, but they are real enough—and critically, it is possible to know in advance exactly what they will be. Any alternative form of action cannot, without some sort of appeal to shared meanings or understandings, have any predictable effects at all.

[...]

As long as one remains within the domain of theory, then, I would argue that simplification can be a form of intelligence. The problems arise when the violence is no longer metaphorical. Here let me turn from imaginary cops to real ones. A former LAPD officer turned sociologist (Cooper 1991), observed that the overwhelming majority of those beaten by police turn out not to be guilty of any crime. “Cops don’t beat up burglars,” he observed. The reason, he explained, is simple: the one thing most guaranteed to evoke a violent reaction from police is to challenge their right to “define the situation.” If what I’ve been saying is true, then this is just what we’d expect. The police truncheon is precisely the point where the state’s bureaucratic imperative for imposing simple administrative schema, and its monopoly of coercive force, come together. It only makes sense then that bureaucratic violence should consist first and foremost of attacks on those who insist on alternative schemas or interpretations. At the same time, if one accepts Piaget’s (1936) famous definition of mature intelligence as the ability to coordinate between multiple perspectives (or possible perspectives) one can see, here, precisely how bureaucratic power, at the moment it turns to violence, becomes literally a form of infantile stupidity.

and so on. that's power, baby! the power to define a situation and stop anybody else from objecting to your framing. by killing them!