#I mainly play Evade

[scuba-divers]

Oh!! I never told y’all my Roblox account! My Roblox username is NauticalDiver and my display name is usually ‘KinitoPET’, ‘SamTheSeaAnemone’, ‘Scuba’, ‘ScubaTheDiver’, or something like that, so if you wanna throw a friend request at me, go ahead, but also send me your username zo I know who you are!

[sserpente]

For Old Times' Sake

Synopsis: When your landlord drags you before Lord Gortash to settle your debts, your life gets turned upside down. It is not the fear of imprisonment that paralyses you at Wyrm’s Rock—it is him. Enver Flymm, as you’d once known him, a shy and clever boy and your only childhood friend. Will he recognise you and show mercy, help you out?

A/N: My obsession with Gortash is getting out of hand. I don’t think I care.

Words: 2853 Warnings: angst, homelessness, mentions of death and abuse

The number on your tax letter was bright red—quite possibly scribbled on there with the previous tenant’s blood. Three thousand and five hundred gold pieces. That was more money than you had ever seen in your life.

“I’m a little short.”

The half-orc—your landlord—rolled his eyes. “By how much?”

“Um…about three thousand and four hundred ninety-nine gold pieces.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“I’m not, I…I am trying to find work right now. I was preoccupied with organising a funeral and scraped together the last of my savings to buy my parents a coffin. I will start paying off the debts and all the money I owe if you give me just a little bit more time…”

The half-orc scoffed. “Funny, that’s what your parents always said too. Just a little bit more time. I’m done playing games, kid. In times like this, the Fist can’t let this keep happening. You pay your rent, you pay your taxes, you contribute to the city’s safety—and you face the consequences if you cannot do so.”

It was this new Steel Watch mainly that ate up most of the tax money. An entire Foundry had sprouted from the ground down by the docks seemingly overnight. They were rather scary automatons and they were not known for their mercy.

“It’s Friday,” the half-orc continued. “We are settling this once and for all. Your missing payments are biting a hole into my coin purse.”

Your eyes widened. Each Friday, Lord Gortash—the city’s new hero, protector, and saviour—held public hearings where citizens could voice requests, concerns, or other pleas. You’d never seen the man in person. He looked handsome enough on the posters, you’d read about his good deeds and heard about his generosity. But apart from that, he was a stranger to you. You’d known a young boy once called Enver though—Gortash sharing the same first name could only bring you luck, no?

Perhaps…perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. You could make your case—explain to him that when your parents died from sickness, the remaining debts from all the medication that didn’t help in the end had been passed on to you.

You inherited a small house with broken windows, corroding wood and a serious rat problem in the cellar rendering food rations useless. Not that you had many to spare. You’d always wondered what a full stomach felt like.

“Will you come with me willingly or do I need to get a Fist?”

“This really isn’t necessary, saer. As soon as I’ve found work—”

“I am done making exceptions. We are leaving for Wyrm’s Rock. Now.”

You didn’t want to make a scene, not here. Not with the Steel Watchers within reach. With a sigh, you folded the letter from your landlord and handed it back to him, then followed him through the Lower City to Wyrm’s Rock as if you were walking to the gallows.

The place was packed. You’d expected little else. Lord Gortash was very much in demand. There was a long queue when you arrived, several Fists positioned at every possible entrance along with some patrolling Steel Watchers to ensure no one cut the line.

Five minutes turned into ten minutes, ten minutes into twenty. With every passing second, you felt the nervousness tightening its iron grip around you more. The punishment for evading rent was eviction, for one, and imprisonment for another. But perhaps Lord Gortash would hear you out.

It took another ten minutes before you were called up to the audience chamber. As if he was worried you’d try and make a run for it now, the half-orc grabbed your upper arm, dragging you with him. At the far end of the hall, two Steel Watchers were positioned on either side of a pretty throne in front of which stood a handsome man with short black hair and elegant black armour.

“Lord Gortash…thank you for your time,” your landlord began. He bowed—and so did you. Gortash’s eyes skimmed over the half-orc with mild interest before moving on to you. Dark orbs boring into yours, stirring…recognition within you. His face…you could have sworn you’d met him before.

“How can I be of service, hmm?” he asked with a sly smirk. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest. That scar on his chin…that little boy you knew from your childhood…a boy named Enver…

“E-Enver? Enver Flymm? Is…is that you?”

Your landlord’s head whipped in your direction, the disrespect apparent, even more so when Gortash began to frown. Who were you to call the archduke by his first name? But this…this was different. You knew him. He was…or used to be…your friend.

“It’s me!” You told him your name, excitement washing over you like a wave. ��R-remember me? We used to play together as kids. You…you just disappeared one day. I never found out what happened to you and your parents wouldn’t talk to me…”

Your landlord cleared his throat before Gortash could answer—the archduke’s face, however, was painted with recognition. He did remember you.

“Whatever, Lord Gortash, this…tenant of mine has been behind with paying rent for months. I am currently missing nearly four thousand gold pieces which she claims she’ll be able to ‘pay back soon as soon as she finds work’.”

Enver knew your family was poor, they always had been. He himself didn’t have a lot growing up. While other kids would brag about the new toys that they got for their birthday, Enver got a beating out of asking for some simple tools for his special day. He’d always been a tinkerer.

“I see. I am going to deal with this. Would you excuse us for a moment?” Gortash finally spoke.

Taken aback, your landlord nodded. Dismissed. You breathed out audibly. Good, this was good. You’d get to tell him your side of the story and he’d help you, he had authority now, he had the power to…

“You have chosen a criminal career then?”

Your heart dropped. “C-criminal? I’m not a criminal.”

“You refuse to pay rent. And tax evasion too?”

“I don’t refuse. I simply…I can’t, I have no money left. You…you remember my parents, right? They passed two ten days ago. We spent all we had on medication and healers and that was after they started struggling with their health. They couldn’t work as much anymore and so we fell behind.”

“Hmm.”

He tilted his head and for just a brief second, you saw the young boy flash before your eyes again. You couldn’t help but smile despite your sad circumstances. Gods, you were a childhood friend of the archduke… Now that your parents were gone…perhaps you wouldn’t be all alone after all.

“I…I thought about you a lot. You were my only friend back then. I always assumed your parents sent you off to some private school outside the city to give you better opportunities or…or that an incurable sickness claimed you. Just earlier today I thought I once knew a little boy who would have loved these Steel Watchers. And now it turns out it was you all along. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I put my talent to good use.”

“You did. I remember when we were little kids we would roam the streets and search the city for old metal parts. You’d tinker away and build your own toys with them. This one time you made me a dancing ballerina, do you remember? You…you found this old music box a merchant had abandoned. The music was all distorted at first but…you made it work again. That was the best toy I ever had.” You paused. All of a sudden…you were mourning him. Mourning your childhood friend you thought you had lost for good.

“What happened to you? Where did you go?”

Gortash’s brown eyes locked with yours. But then, his expression hardened. “That matters not. Your landlord expects a solution for his dilemma.”

Your face fell. “You…you could help.”

“I could,” he mused. “But I am the archduke of Baldur’s Gate now, my dear. If I start waiving laws in favour of an old acquaintanceship, people are going to start questioning my reliability.”

“But—“

“Your landlord is in the right. If you cannot afford rent, he has the right to evict you. I am going to spare you the dungeons—for old times’ sake.”

“Enver…”

“That is Lord Gortash to you. We are not children anymore.”

Your lips parted. “Is…is that it?”

“Yes. You are dismissed.”

You didn’t even notice your tears until they wet your cheeks. You turned around without a word of goodbye, without a formal bow. Your landlord was seemingly pleased as you rushed out. You didn’t wait for Enver to tell him the good news.

As of right now, you were homeless. And even though you hadn’t seen your only friend in years, against all reason, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

You just didn’t understand. Enver used to be such a sweet boy. Innocent, full of visions and dreams, shy, quiet. Everyone who knew him including his own parents labelled him as ‘odd’ but you knew better.

Now, he was the reason you’re homeless. Wait, no. That wasn’t right. Your landlord was the reason you were homeless. Enver had simply honoured the very rules set in place before he became the archduke. Perhaps he was right and he couldn’t make an exception—it would be unfair on others. He could have sent you to prison but he didn’t. That had to be enough.

As you made your way through the Lower City past merchants, civilians, and Steel Watchers a few weeks later, wondering if you’d be able to have a meal today, the sudden tumult right in front of Basilisk Gate had you pause. You frowned, hurrying toward the crowd of people that had formed before the gallows. Three men with nooses around their necks stood on the wooden platform, in front of them, facing the citizens, stood Enver.

What in the hells was happening?

“…so let this be a fair warning. These are the consequences of disobedience. I am not going to tolerate disrespect. I have led this city to glory—and I ask for recognition and your trust in return.”

Your frown deepened when Enver gave a court nod to the hangman. The very moment the trap doors gave way under the prisoner’s feet was the moment you looked away—but not before the archduke’s eyes met yours.

“I am telling you,” you heard a citizen whisper to another, “there’s something foul about this man. He acts like a bloody Banite.”

A Banite. You swallowed. That was a serious accusation. Surely, a sweet boy like Enver wouldn’t turn to Bane worship.

“My words exactly,” the other citizen responded, “I heard he is friends with the chief editor of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette and only what he approves of gets printed.”

A scoff. “Talk about propaganda.”

You’d heard enough. With your heart in your mouth, you stepped away, attempting to disappear in the crowd and perhaps ask for a gold piece or two. You flinched when a Fist touched your shoulder and flipped you around to face her.

“Lord Gortash has requested your presence. You will follow me.”

“W-why? What does he want?”

She didn’t respond. And if you refused to follow her? You didn’t want to find out.

You hadn’t expected to return to Wyrm’s Rock any time soon, nor that you’d be led up the stairs to Lord Gortash’s private quarters. The place was imposing. And of course, when you spotted him behind his desk, he was accompanied by two Steel Watchers.

“Ah, hello, my dear. Have you been faring well?” he mused. You could have been mistaken—but it was almost like you sensed scornfulness swinging in his voice.

“I am homeless. How do you think I’m faring?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

“Oh, don’t give me that reproachful tone. We are all bound by laws and order, my dear.”

You blinked. “What do you want from me?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“You do?” Hesitation mixed with suspicion. After seeing him hang people in public today…you weren’t sure a proposition would do you any good.

“It’s quite simple, really. Serve me and I shall give you a roof over your head.”

“Serve you?”

“I’ve had my Watchers keep an eye on you. It is quite noble of you not to resort to stealing. Surely, you understand why the citizens of Baldur’s Gate are becoming more and more hesitant to spare a few coins, though.”

You’d read in the Gazette only yesterday that the tax rates were going to be increased yet again starting next month. Both the Fist and the newspaper itself had become very vocal about their dismay when it came to the poor and those in need. It was concerning—terrifying, even.

“Being archduke comes with a lot of responsibilities. My hands are full with political duties, I need people around me to run errands for me and assist me. What do you say? For old times’ sake?” he continued.

“You want me to work for you?” Only weeks ago, you would have jumped at the opportunity. You and your childhood friend reunited at last. Him being the archduke, you being his assistant, his right hand. Now, however, the request left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You did not agree with his cold-hearted choices to hang usurpers. There was always a more peaceful solution. Imprisonment, for one.

“Do you know what people are whispering, Env-…Lord Gortash? They have suspicions you could be a Banite. You hung people for disobedience! How is that a fair judgement? How can I work for you if this is how you—”

“One of them plotted an assassination against me. You have no right to question my rule, my dear. Lest you’ll end up like them.”

Your lips parted. He didn’t even deny it. He…he didn’t deny he was worshipping Bane… Damn all appropriation. “Enver, please, what happened to you? You used to be such a sweet boy, you comforted me when the other kids picked on me, you—”

“My parents, my dear, sold me to a Warlock. I disappeared because I was shipped off the hells to serve a devil called Raphael in his House of Hope. I faced years of degradation and abuse until I finally managed to escape. I had nothing, I was nothing. The Black Lord picked up the pieces that were left of me and made me what I am today. And I am giving you a chance now. You have potential. Serve me and we can rise together.”

You blinked, processing his words. Sold? To a devil? No wonder his parents had refused to speak about him after his sudden disappearance. The torment he must have experienced…you could almost understand why a tyrannical god like Bane would infiltrate his dreams and promise him power and glory.

“I…I don’t know about this, Enver. This…this is tyranny.”

“In times like this, tyranny is what people need. They don’t listen—and they need a strong leader to help them make the choices that are best for the city. As of right now, free will is their greatest enemy.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

Enver’s expression darkened. He took a menacing step forward. All of a sudden, you felt so much smaller than before.

“I will not have you belittle my faith.” He paused. “I expect an answer. Now.”

You were torn—way too much so. This answer should be a decided No. Working for a Banite, for a worshipper of one of the Dead Three…it was wrong. It should be wrong. And yet…you were hesitant. Not only did Enver promise to end your homelessness but also an alliance. You were clueless as to how he assumed you would be of any use to him but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that ever since he’d stepped into your life again…it felt like a part of yourself had returned to you. Against all reason, that made you happy. Relieved, even. You weren’t entirely alone—and you certainly wouldn’t be if you accepted his proposal.

You took a deep breath. “F-fine. I…I accept. I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

If he’d expected you to agree, he didn’t expect this. For just a split second, his composure faltered, surprise and something ever so soft washing over his face. It was gone again as fast as it had appeared.

“Splendid. A wise decision, my dear. I shall have one of the empty servants’ rooms prepared for you. Unless of course, you’d rather stay with me?” he mocked.

“You know, I would actually like that,” you said with a weak smile. Because you’d missed him. Banite or not, you were grateful he’d found his way into your life again. Not all was lost—perhaps you’d be able to talk to him. Help him be a better person just like he’d helped you be one when you were young. You’d find a way. For old times’ sake.

A/N: I already have an idea for a Part II.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 5

chapter 4 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 6

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after what happened a couple of months ago, you are ready to move forward. joel? not so much. he might need a little... prodding.

warnings: 18+, mdni. internal and verbal discussions of feelings, trauma and past relationships. some jealousy (if you squint very hard). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). again, absolutely filthy smut because i don’t know any better (sorry not sorry). fluff. voyeurism (you spy on joel). masturbation (f and m). oral (f and m receiving). finger sucking. unprotected piv. praise kink. sir kink. size kink. cum eating. a bit of cum play. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. squirting. dirty talk. you are very needy in this one and joel is very possessive over you. soft!dom!joel. aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, honey). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

a/n: hiya! first i want to thank you all for the positive feedback this series has gotten! [: i started writing this for myself mainly, and decided to post it here thinking that if a couple of people liked it, it'd make my heart happy. also, i have taken some licenses with joel's past, as neither the game nor the tv show gives many details (you'll understand what i mean). anyways! after the last chapter, our two protagonists (you!) deserve a bit of calm, peace and quiet... right? 😈 as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests/side stories if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

w/c: ~6.3k (sorry?).

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

August came around relatively quickly. Tommy had proposed you got closer to civilisation, which meant long trekking trips while the sunlight was still up. Joel agreed reluctantly, as he still thought that was dangerous. You just went along with it, letting them decide ― you didn’t really care where you ended up as long as the Millers were by your side.

Well, one of them especially.

At daytime you barely had time to yourself. However, the story was completely different at nighttime. The second you closed your eyes, snippets of what had happened two months ago flooded your memory. For the first few weeks, the nightmares were unbearable. You would wake up in the dead of night, sweaty and shaking.

And every time you woke up, Joel was by your side. He would hug you while you both laid on improvised beds, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Neither of you would talk, you would just cry in silence while your panic attack subsided ― Joel holding you throughout the whole episode. He had truly been a rock you could hold onto in the middle of a sea storm.

It got to the point where Tommy had started to realise that something was up between you two. Neither you nor Joel denied nor confirmed anything, although Tommy never asked. He would just look away when his brother would attend to you if you fell behind or would offer to do the first night shifts so Joel could be by your side at bedtime.

You were somewhat sure that Joel really cared about you. The way he would look at you… it sent shivers down your spine. The intensity in his eyes was hypnotising ― sometimes you would find yourself lost in his brown orbs, unable to look away. You also really cared about him.

You didn’t want to put a label to your feelings, mainly because you were not sure how Joel would react. You had come to understand that the man was prone to evade any topic about his feelings in general ― physical, emotional or otherwise. You could still not get him to tell you whenever he felt off. Since the blow to his head a couple of months back, Joel had been suffering with horrible headaches, to the point where he had fainted in a couple of instances.

The man was such a closed book you found out about his deceased wife the same way you knew about Sarah ― through Tommy. You assumed he had one or at least a partner at some point in time before the outbreak. The younger brother didn’t give you many details though, not that you asked either ― some wounds were better left untouched.

You liked Tommy a lot. He was a godsend ― so very different to Joel, but so similar in many ways. He was talkative and filled in long silences with stories about how they would cause mayhem at home when they were kids. You didn’t know if they were true or not, but they were entertaining nonetheless. You were under the impression that Tommy was the one who got into sticky situations and Joel was the one who had to fix them.

“I’m gonna go to the lake for a bit”, Joel told you, derailing your train of thought.

“No worries, I’ll get the fire going. Poor Tommy is always the one setting up camp”, you replied with a slight smile.

“Yeah, poor me, relegated to such unsignificant tasks”, said Tommy with a chuckle.

You smiled back and then looked in Joel’s direction. He was frowning at both of you, but quickly controlled his face expression.

“I’ll be back soon”, Joel crouched to look through his backpack, grabbing a couple of towels.

Something inside of you twisted. But you pushed the thought to the back of your head. You had already volunteered to start the fire.

You really tried to focus on the bonfire. And after a few attempts, you finally got it going. Joel had not come back yet from the lake ― it had only been ten minutes, but you were slightly worried in case he had lost consciousness again while no one was around.

“I’ll go check on him”, you told Tommy.

He looked at you with a sarcastic smile.

“Sure thing”, he replied while he started to skin a rabbit.

You rolled your eyes before you left in the direction Joel had gone.

You walked the hundred metres that separated the camp and the lake. The brothers had ensured the area was completely devoid of human existence before they decided to settle there for the night. You were now in Mark Twain National Forest, near St. Louis. You had checked out Kansas City a week ago, but both Tommy and Joel had deemed it too unsafe. So Chicago was your final destination. None of you knew what you would encounter there, but it was worth a try. The wilderness had not proven to be any safer.

Before you got to the bank of the lake, you spotted Joel in the water. He had his back towards you, your eager eyes checking out his broad shoulders, the water level up to his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back.

You stopped walking, somewhat mesmerised, your head slightly tilted to one side with curiosity. In the last two months, you had discovered a new side to Joel you didn’t know he had.

You guessed that what happened that night also affected him in a different way it did you. After he almost decapitated that man, you saw guilt in his eyes when he looked at you ― you still sometimes caught a glimpse of it to this day. As you found out later, that culpability was because he felt responsible for what those men did to you ― he really thought he could have done more. And he did in a sense, because for the next couple of days he hunted down every man in that group until there was no one left to hurt you. Apparently, that was not enough in his eyes, although it was in yours. But as much as you tried to explain that to him, it just wouldn’t sink in. He was so stubborn it made you go crazy sometimes.

Although Joel had been there for you emotionally, he had not touched you for the last two months. You managed to steal a few kisses from him and that was it. He had been extremely cautious with you in that respect. You were relieved he was as you tried to come to terms with what had happened, but after a few weeks it started to feel… frustrating. You were not broken and despite what he thought, you still had needs.

He suddenly looked over his right shoulder, offering you his side profile ― to you, he was gorgeous. Feeling like a child caught causing mischief, you quickly hid behind a tree. Joel looked around, eyebrows touching in confusion, but then he shook his head as if he was imagining things and proceeded to cup his hands in the water to wet his face.

You couldn’t not watch. You instantly realised that was the first time you saw him naked. The last ―and, regrettably, the only― time you two had sex, he was fully clothed. There was something very intimate about seeing him washing up.

You were so transfixed on the picture in front of you it was like the world had disappeared around you. Joel rubbed his skin with a hand towel ― his strong arms, his chest, his back, his lower stomach… Your breath quickened a bit, your heart picking up a pace. Everything about him invited you in ― it wasn’t only his rugged appearance that appealed to you, but also his character.

You started to feel hot. Had the temperature suddenly gone up? It seemed like it. Joel put the hand towel on his left shoulder. When you saw his right hand disappear below the water in front of him, your mouth went dry wishing it was your hand. You wanted to help him clean his manhood so badly ― memories of his delightful cock rocking you into a trance short-circuited your brain.

Before you could stop yourself, you placed one hand on your belly, biting your bottom lip. You finally gave in to temptation, pushing past the edge of your panties. You dipped two fingers in your slit, doing circular movements around your clit. Your eyes, albeit halfway closed in pleasure, could not leave Joel as he kept on freshening up. You pushed down your fingers a bit more, sliding one of them in your needy hole.

You closed your eyes, a half-smile showing on the corner of your lips. That felt so good. If Joel was going to do nothing about it ― fine, you would. Still behind the tree, out of sight, you held on to the bark with your free hand, upping the rhythm of your wet fingers, your thumb rubbing that tight knot in your fold. Then you slightly opened your eyes again ― you wanted to stare at Joel while you came.

But he wasn’t there anymore. You frowned, confused, but you were too busy to worry about that right now. So you closed your eyes again to fully focus on the task at hand. You leaned your forehead against the tree, feeling your orgasm wash over you with intensity. You pressed your lips, suppressing a moan as to not alert Joel of your presence.

“Am I interrupting?”, his soft voice forced you to glance in his direction with starry eyes.

He was on your righthand side, just half a metre away from you. Entirely naked in all his glory, an erection creeping up on him. You were speechless, partially because you had been caught spying on him and partially because you were still feeling the last remnants of your climax, your inner walls crying for something to choke.

“I―I…”, you really tried to excuse yourself, but your voice faltered when your eyes checked him out from top to bottom.

His body was chiselled, his muscles somewhat defined, especially around his waist. He had a pronounced V line with a hairy, happy trail which you avidly followed with your eyes until you were gifted with the sight of his veiny cock. You unconsciously licked your bottom lip.

Your fingers were still dunked in your warm pussy. Joel grabbed your wrist and took your hand out of your underwear, raising it to eye level. Your digits were sticky, covered in your own cum. You should feel ashamed, but you definitely didn’t. Not with him. Joel looked into your eyes, and, without breaking visual contact, he brought your slick fingers closer to his face. With no hesitation, he opened his mouth and pushed them into it, licking them clean. You felt your cunt gushing, eyelids half closed. You could have easily come again for him, but he released your fingers far too quickly for your liking.

“You naughty girl”, he whispered as he pulled you from the wrist to get you closer to his chest. “You taste even better than what I imagined”.

“I didn’t think you were…”

“Aware of your presence? Always, darlin’”, he finished for you.

Your cheeks blushed when he freed your wrist and lifted your chin up. His thumb caressed your bottom lip, his mouth just an inch away from yours. You bowed to kiss him, but he backed up a little, denying you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?”, he asked, you could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

You nodded vehemently.

“Yes, please, Joel, I really need to feel you, to have you fuck me senseless”, you emphasized, short-breathed.

He seemed to consider your words for longer than what was acceptable. You saw his eyes flying between yours and your lips.

“Please?”, you begged.

Your prayers might have been heard, because he leaned forward, brushing your mouth with his.

“Then go down on your knees, darlin’”, he whispered against your lips.

You silently gasped as your clit pulsed at his words. You were delighted to follow his command, and so you kneeled compliantly.

When your knees touched the grass, his cock was at eye level. You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. His dick was as big as you remembered, the memory of it filling you up still haunted you. It was so erected now that the tip touched his belly button. Joel looked so strained you thought he had to be in pain. And you were more than willing to help him alleviate it.

You moved your hand forward, but before you could try to wrap your fingers around him, Joel stopped you.

“No, with your mouth”, was his order.

You intertwined your fingers on your lower back and inclined your heard towards him. You gazed up at him, his jawline very tense. You let your tongue out and shyly tapped his glans with the tip. Joel closed his eyes immediately and grumbled loudly as his cock twitched in front of you.

That was all you needed to spur you on. You widely opened your mouth to house his manhood and sealed your lips around the head, the tip of your tongue trying to push open the slit on his foreskin. You played with him for a bit while your jaw relaxed. Then you started to push him in further and further down your mouth, as far as you could take him. His glans pushed past your uvula, you could barely breathe, just as you had imagined a few months ago ― a dream come true. You bobbed your head back and forth, feeling him in your throat, your eyes watering. But you were still not close to have his dick entirely in your mouth ― he was so damn big.

Joel growled in ecstasy as he looked down to you. The sight of you on your knees with your mouth stuffed, bright beautiful eyes, your tongue maliciously inciting him… He just couldn’t believe how giving you were.

“Look at you with your mouth so full”, he said placing one of his hands under your chin. He could feel his own cock expanding your throat. “You look so damn pretty, baby”.

You leaned back a bit, releasing most of his erection except for the tip. With the help of one hand you started pumping his shaft, the other gently massaging his balls. Joel eyed you intensely while you ate him up like a lollypop. His salty flavour inundated all your senses, your eyes pinned on his.

His fingers clenched in frustration.

“Shit, stop, I’m gonna come”, he mumbled as he pushed back to free his dick from your wicked lips.

No way in hell, you thought. He was not about to deny you that. You had been thinking about this moment for fucking months, you wouldn’t let him take that pleasure away from you.

You grasped him by his ass, your palms firmly pressing on his buttocks to take his cock even deeper. You then gave him head as best as you knew how, fastening the rhythm when you felt the pulsation coming from him.

“Fuck, baby―”, he moaned your name as he came in your hot, wet cavity.

You felt his spent hit the back of your throat. It was so tangy and musky. You swallowed all of it. Ah, delicious, you thought gleefully. You let go of his ass and released his dick from the prison of your lips.

You placed the palms of your hands on your knees, still on the ground, and glanced up at him innocently with a sweet smile painting your face. You then opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show Joel you had eaten all his cum ― a bridge of spit connecting the tip of your tongue to his glans.

He dropped one hand to break off the arch of saliva between you and him with his index, and fed it to you ― you gladly accepted, sucking his finger clean.

“Did I do good, sir?”, you asked with a small voice, looking for praise.

“Good? You did fucking splendid, sweetheart”, you beamed with the compliment and got up to your feet when he offered you a hand.

He took your hand, walking behind him as he headed towards the lake. He turned around to face you and kissed you slowly, his tongue caressing your palate. He then took a step back. The sun was setting on his back, the orange and red lighting reflecting off the waterbed. His brown eyes, bearded jaw, hooked nose, his hair curling at the nape of his neck… He looked like a roman God ― Mars, you thought. Joel looked like a man about to fight for his life and yours on the battlefield.

He sat down on a massive flat rock one metre away from the bank of the lake, which was approximately two metres wide in both directions.

“Now undress for me, baby”, he instructed.

You did not hesitate ― all your clothing fell to your feet, piece by piece, while Joel eagerly watched the show you put on. He wetted his bottom lip while he readjusted his cock on his lap. You stood there with dreamy eyes, awaiting. He motioned one hand towards the rock he was sat on, an invitation for you to join him.

Once you were sat on his right, he placed his left hand around the front of your neck ― a very slight touch that forced you to flatten your back against the rock while he positioned himself on top of you. He bit your chin while his left hand put a sweet amount of pressure on your throat. You could tell he was controlling himself.

“My turn”, he whispered, coming off you.

He got off the rock, kneeling on the ground in front of you. You put your elbows down on the rock to lift your torso and be able to look at him, your knees bent, the sole of your feet against the cold surface of the rocky platform. Joel grabbed you by the hips and scooted your ass over to the edge of the rock. Your legs were firmly pressed against each other, trying to hide your quivering cunt ― suddenly you felt shy.

“Spread your legs open for me, darlin’, lemme see”, he commended you with his hands on your knees.

You couldn’t say no to him, you didn’t want to. So you obeyed, dropping your legs to the sides, offering him your dripping fold. He traced your slit with his index, and you moaned.

“You’re so fucking wet already. So receptive, aren’t you?”, he asked looking at you dead in the eye, his finger sinking in between your legs, looking for the entrance. “Who gets your pussy so wet?”, he pushed his fingertip in your hole, and you groaned loudly. “Who, darlin’? Use your words”.

“You, only you, sir”, you gasped.

“This is mine”. He pushed in the second phalange.

You closed your eyes, trying to control your breathing.

“All yours, yes”.

His finger got completely sucked in down to his knuckle, stroking your g-spot. You harshly pressed your lips.

“Exactly, don’t you dare forget that”, his tone was so serious you looked at him enigmatically, not really understanding where that sudden possessiveness came from, but you loved every bit of it. And you were more than happy to put his doubts to rest.

You nodded frantically.

“I would never, sir, I swear my pussy is all yours”, you really meant it.

“As it should be”, he added a second finger as he leaned forward and kissed your mound.

You sighed, eyes teary, and flattened your back against the rock again, as Joel made out with the fatty skin above your clit. He introduced a third finger, all of them rubbing your anterior wall. Then his mouth dropped and sucked in your clit. Your knees trembled while you held both of your breasts, playing with your nipples and biting down your lip to stop your wanton screams. He insisted with his kissing until your wet cunt started fluttering around his fingers, a clear tell you were about to come. He stroked your clit with his teeth, very lightly, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs pressed against his head, tension building up. And then, finally, sweet release. You came so hard on his mouth, and he drank it all.

He unburied his head from in between your legs and glanced at you with a sufficient smile.

“You taste even better directly from your creamy cunt, baby”, you were glad he was so talkative during sex, especially if it was to praise you.

Joel placed the palm of his hand over your mound, his fingers covering your damp pussy, and rubbed with just the right amount of friction. You exhaled slowly.

“I’m gonna make you come again”, he promised.

You pursed your lips, your cunt palpitating at the prospect.

“I don’t know if I can―”, you uttered under your breath.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was offended. Joel grabbed your thighs and pulled towards him; the back of your knees placed on his shoulders.

“Don’t doubt me, of course you can. I said I’ll make you”, his mouth was so close to your moist pussy you felt his cool breath on your damp skin.

You whimpered when his tongue swept your entire slit unhurriedly, from your perineum to your clit, his hand climbing up your body to squeeze one of your breasts firmly. Joel repeated that move a few times ― and your brain chemistry would be changed forever after that. He briefly pinched your nipple while he paid special attention to the core of your pleasure. Joel smothered your clit with his lips ― you closed your eyes while placing a hand over his on your boob.

Joel’s tongue stopped torturing you for a second. He nudged your clit with the tip of his hooked nose and then inhaled your sweet smell. That scent was making him go wild with lust to the point where he started fisting his cock, the tip already leaking with precum. He flattened his tongue against your swollen lips, wiggling it through the slit to touch your needy hole. He could not believe you were this wet for him ― if he had the chance, he would drink from your seeping fold every single day. This was how ambrosia tasted like ― he was damn sure of it.

He placed his hands to each side of your puffy flaps to spread your pussy open, while the tip of his tongue slipped inside of you. Your free hand flew to his head, fisting a handful of hair. Your toes clenched as he started to fuck your hole with his tongue. You felt your whole uterus contracting so hard it was almost painful. Your cum started to ooze out as a new orgasm hit you with full force, yelling his name. Joel did not waste any of it, licking it off you shamelessly.

What just happened ― that felt like sin, the most beautiful sin you had ever experienced. Your breathing was so irregular you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Then you heard Joel snickering as he got back up to his feet.

“See? Told ya”, he said smugly as you placed the elbows on the rock to lift your chest and glance at him.

He was jerking off, his cock ready for you again. You sat back up and leaned forward, your hands on his muscular thighs as you kissed the slippery tip, the shaft, then his balls. You showered pecks all over his manhood, worshipping it.

“S-sorry, sir, can I ask? Is your cock only mine? P-please?”, you asked in between smooches, almost panting, looking at him with puppy eyes.

Joel’s irises were swirling with desire, his hips slightly slanted forward towards your mouth, his dick visibly spasming while he caressed your cheek.

“All yours, yes”, he replicated your exact words, your heart fluttering with contempt.

You smiled at him before licking his testicles again ― your hand pushing his shaft against his lower belly to give you better access. Your eyes never abandoned his as your saliva covered his soft ball sacks.

This time he did step back, and you let him.

“I need you inside me, please”, you murmured.

His jaw was so tight he didn’t dare to speak. Joel could feel his heartbeat on his cock, all because of you and your wanton mouth. You looked so damn beautiful ― on your knees, staring at him through your eyelashes, patiently waiting. He knew you very well by now, fully conscious that as sweet as you were acting now, that was it ― an act. And he loved every bit of it. He liked the way you replied to him when sex wasn’t involved, taking no shit from anyone, your snarky remarks driving him crazy.

Joel sat down on the rock and motioned for you to join him on his lap. You joyfully obliged, sitting atop of him. Your knees to each side of his waist, your bust against his, skin to skin. Your nipples grazed his chest, becoming harder at the electric contact. He cupped both of your boobs and pushed them up, so he could kiss them tenderly. You sighed, your mouth against his ear. Still holding your breasts, he unattached his lips from your nipples to peck your chin.

“Fuck me, darlin’”.

You looked down between you two. His erection was so prominent you knew it was hurting him. And you could ease that pain for him. Heaving, you lifted your hips up and grabbed his dick. It was hard but soft at the same time, velvety, very warm and beating. So sensitive to the touch he groaned ― music to your ears. You hugged his neck with your free arm as you guided his tip to your leaking entrance.

With a sudden drop of your hips, you impaled yourself harshly ― his bollocks kissing your tumid lips. You circled your hips against his, very slowly, which made you both moan in unison. Then you raised your body, his cock slipping out completely. Holding him from the base, you came down on him sharply again.

Joel was close to losing his mind. If you did that one more time, he wasn’t going to be able to hold it for much longer. You seemed to understand that, because you started to rock your hips back and forth, up and down. He kneaded your ass, feeling your rhythm, spurring you on. His fingers squeezed the skin under them while he kissed your collarbone. His mind was completely blank ― he could only focus on your sweet pussy hugging him, choking him. His dick felt so wet, so hot, throbbing for release… You kept on riding him, your movements growing erratic as you both were close to climax.

You surrounded Joel’s neck with both arms, pressing your breasts against his handsome face, your hips flushed with his, as your cunt angrily convulsed around his erection in blissful liberation. Joel held it together while you recovered, his hands still on your ass cheeks, fingers so clutched they were close to dislocating.

“Baby, if you don’t get off, I’m―”, pain smeared his tone. He was really fighting for his life right there and then.

“Oh, sorry”, you said with a small voice, still feeling your own pleasure. You elevated your hips, so his manhood popped out with a squelching sound.

You were not going to leave him hanging, obviously. So you kneeled before him, in between his strong legs, and kissed his tip. Joel sighed loudly when you closed off your lips around him for the second time today and pumped his shaft fast and strong, milking him dry. A minute later, your throat was clogged with his spent. A drop of it trickled down the corner of your mouth.

Joel leaned forward and caught the cum off the corner of your mouth with his thumb before rubbing it on your lips. Then he kissed you wetly, devouring you. He could never have enough of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you whispered with a smile when he was done assaulting your mouth.

He just smiled back. A genuine smile, the first you had seen from him. It tugged at your heart a little.

You were still feeling restless. Although you had orgasmed four times already, your pussy lips were so inflamed you thought you were on your way down to hell. Still on your knees in front of him, you softly massaged your sensitive clit. It was burning ― you suppressed a sob as you glanced up at him, lips slightly parted.

“What is it? Is your tight pussy still gushing, sweetheart?”, he asked you, cupping your chin.

You nodded, tears of frustration blurring your vision.

“I need more, I can’t ― my pussy is on fire, sir”, you muttered, feeling sorry for yourself. You were in a heightened state of sensory overload.

“Let me help you with that then”, you almost cried of relief at his words.

You quickly got up and kneeled on top of his lap again. He slipped a hand in between your bodies to caress your core. Your flesh trembled at the touch. Suddenly you realised you desperately needed to find your own rhythm ― you didn’t have to communicate it, Joel understood it in a second. He stopped and let you do what you had to do. You placed the palm of your hands on his shoulders and started rubbing your pussy against the side of his still hand. You slid your cunt further up to his elbow, and then returned back to his wrist. Your clit greedily welcomed the tingling sensation of the hair on his forearm against your wet slit.

You kept on rocking your hips back and forth on his forearm, pressing hard against it, sliding, rubbing and causing as much friction as you could, the heat in your belly flowing down to your crotch. You buried your fingers in his wet hair and tilted his head backwards so you could rest your forehead against his. Your inner walls contracted extremely hard and then you let go, squirting plentifully for a few never-ending seconds on Joel’s forearm. Your overstimulated cunt was leaking on top of him as if someone had opened the tap of your pleasure and couldn’t close it. When the last wave of your climax abandoned you, you looked down to see how it all trickled down from his forearm onto his lap.

You closed your eyes, content, when he gently tapped your pussy a few times. You breathed in deeply, feeling completely satisfied, finally at peace. Then you pecked his lips with gratitude.

“Better now, baby?”.

“Yes, infinitely better. I―I’m sorry I made a mess”.

“Don’t you apologise for that”.

You both remained in that position for a few minutes ― his now relaxed, wet cock warmly lodged between the flaps of your still dribbling cunt. He hugged your waist to bring you closer to him, his mouth brushing yours in a moment of calmness you had not experienced with him yet.

When his lips released yours, you placed your cheek against his right shoulder, your fingertips tracing the scar on it. Silence ensued, neither of you felt the need to fill it with words.

As much as you fought against yourself, you had feelings for Joel. Although you probably didn’t know all his faces, you knew enough about him to love him. The way he would have you on your tiptoes with his sarcastic comments, his bluntness, his rudeness, the way he would snap back at you when you pressed his buttons ― but also his kindness, his caring side, his softness, how he worried about you making sure you were okay, his demanding sexual needs, the way he made you feel when his hands mapped out your skin.

But you were not sure what he thought about all of this. In some respects, his mind was inscrutable. It was part of his charming personality, you guessed. You kissed the scar on his shoulder as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love how you smell”, he murmured.

“Is that the only thing you love about me?”, you couldn’t resist, the words just slipped out of your mouth. You wished you could take them back, but it was too late for that.

Joel slightly froze in place at your question. He couldn’t deny that he had started to develop feelings for you. The way you looked at him made him want to be a better person. Although you drove him crazy sometimes, you made his days bearable, a shining beautiful light amongst so much darkness. You were his lighthouse, guiding him to shore. He just needed to learn how to surf through the violent waves before he could safely approach the coast.

Knowing how close he had been to losing you had opened his eyes to a new, unknown reality. He would literally kill for you if he had to ― he had already done it and would do it all over again without blinking. No regrets whatsoever.

But he had some unresolved trust issues when it came to romantic relationships. Joel married Sarah’s mother, Charlotte, when they were both twenty-one years old, as soon as they knew they were expecting. The first two years were very hard on them both, parenthood was not a piece of cake. Resentment had grown between them, to the point where Charlotte had accused him of robbing her of her fun years, which led her to cheat on him. They tried to salvage their marriage for the sake of Sarah, but they never did ― Charlotte died in a car accident while on a heated, angry phone call with Joel.

He locked away those thoughts ― it wasn’t the time nor the place to dwell on the past. Not when he had you with him.

“I… well, no. I love everything about you, sweetheart”, he conceded.

Your heart skipped a beat with joy. No, it wasn’t a love confession, but it was much more than what you were expecting of him. You turned your face against his neck and placed a kiss on his Adam’s apple.

“C’mon, let’s freshen up, I want to clean my mess off you, I do feel a bit bad”, you said with a chuckle.

You got off his lap, the cool breeze touching your sweaty skin. You offered him a hand, which he took, standing up behind you. Without letting go of his fingers interlaced with yours, you guided him to the water. It was cold, but you ventured inside with Joel following you. When the level was up to your waist, you turned around in Joel’s embrace.

You proceeded to wash off your cum and his off his cock, his lap, his forearm. When you were done, he kissed the top of your head. His left hand did the same to you, his fingers caressing your pussy, cleaning the proof of your shared pleasure. He did so not in a sexual way, but in a caring, intimate way. A minute later, you both disappeared beneath the water to emerge a second later, to wash off all the sweat. You found yourself in his arms again, your cheek against his chest ― you could hear his heart beating loudly but steadily.

“Joel, I―”, you didn’t know where to start. There were thoughts you had been wanting to put into words for a while now. “What happened to me sucks and I still die a bit inside when the memories come back at night. But none of it was your fault, nor mine. I do not want those bastards to win, to ruin my life. And my life with you. And I know it will take time to heal that part of me, or maybe it will never heal, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. I want you so badly, Joel, but what I do not want is you walking on eggshells around me. I’m not broken, I want to move forward, not get stuck in the past. Do you understand what I mean?”, you asked, your cheek still against his chest, looking up at him.

His eyes were focused on yours. His heart shrunk a bit, sharing your pain. If he could, he would take it away, all of it ― the fear, the panic attacks, the agony, the memories, the nightmares. But he couldn’t change the past. So, he nodded.

“I do, honey”, he whispered as he bowed down to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both stood there for a few more minutes, hugging each other in silence. Then Joel grumpily ended the embrace.

“We should get back, Tommy is going to kill us”.

You laughed because it was so true. You both got out of the lake, towelled down and got dressed. You started walking towards the campsite besides him ― your hand in his, fingers entangled. When you saw the tent and Tommy’s outline against the fire, you got ready to release his hand. But he didn’t let go when Tommy turned around to look at both of you.

You tried to hide a soft smile ― and failed.

The younger Miller noticed you holding hands but made no comment about it. But he did smile. A very wide smile.

“Well, about damn time, dinner is almost ready”, he said with amusement, pointing to the rabbit impaled with a stick roasting on top of the fire. “If you took any longer, the rabbit was going to come back to life and run away”.

“Always so theatrical, Tommy”, you chuckled.

[aclickbaittitle]

What do Fiction Podcasts have to say about the future?

Whenever you write a story set years from now, how you construct the world around it creates a new way to see the future, a fictional image to a reality we could be headed towards.

Fiction podcasts love to play within the sci-fi genre, and the thousands of audio dramas they have given us new pictures of what our world could look like in the next century (or a few years closer).

In this article I want to analyze the settings in the following shows: Hello from the Hallowoods, Desperado and The Strange Case of Starship Iris.

Hello From the Hallowoods

Hello From the Hallowoods welcomes us to a world ravaged by black rains and capitalism’s greed. After a natural (but man-made) disaster involving acid rain and flooding the world’s successions gave birth to two different types of beings: those who prefer to dream in a company’s “Prime Dream” and those who stay awake to continue living.

Even though the world is post-apocalyptic on paper, it never feels like it. Rather it is enchanted, there are woods where gods, revenants, devils, giants and zombies fall in love with themselves and with each other, places where community is found.

This, I attribute this to the fact that most characters don’t lament a nebulous “end of the world”, since this is the world they have always been living in and they are going to make the best of it: find family, friends, lovers, build homes and destroy bigots.

You leave the world of Hello From the Hallowoods knowing that even a doomed world is worthy of being awake for.

Desperado Podcast

Desperado Podcast also takes us to a world that was looted, but this time mainly by religious colonialism. 

Neo-colionalism has made itself tangible through genocides and direct targeting to believers that worship other than the “Old man in the Sky”.  In its first episode a community in México which revere La Catrina (a goddess in the show inspired by a popular figure in mexican art) is wiped out by the crusaders. 

From there our protagonist Elio is the sole survivor of his people, however all is not lost as he teams up with Talia (the chosen of Baron Samedi) and Shinji (whom I believe is a death kami?).

Elio now literally carries the memories of his community as the vessel for her goddess. Likewise in Desperado, the magic of the characters is the legacy their ancestors gave them, and it is what keeps them alive in the violent world. 

Though if we are ever to worry that our protagonist could fall into its clutches, the structure of the world soothes our preoccupations. You see, it is the characters within the story that are narrating their own experiences to the audience so we know that after all the pain, they ended up safe.

What Desperado tells us about the future is that, even with the ongoing genocides, white-washing of our culture, and neo-colonialism in general we will end up victorious in the end, and that our history will be forever within our memory.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Strange Case of Starship Iris, is the most sci-fi audio drama out of the bunch. It follows the crew of the Rumour, a smuggler's ship, as they try to uncover the dark secrets of the Federation and evade persecution.

As with the other two properties, the future is not an easy world, but our characters are making the most of it.

In a post-war galaxy, the crew of the Rumour is smuggling space-ship parts, medicine, and erotic magazines until they find a help alarm coming from the Starship Iris and rescue biologist Violet Liu. From there they are involved in a mystery which, if the truth comes to life, they could be charged with treason against the Intergalactic Republic. 

Throughout the two seasons of the podcast, Violet Liu and company heal together the scars that the war and its result: the Intergalactic Republic left them. They fight against the government not only through robberies, infiltration, and coordinated efforts with rebel groups but also by eating latkes, drinking, singing shanties, and getting gay jewish married.

To conclude

if queer podcasts are telling us something about the future, it is that it may be equally messed up as the present but that queer, disabled people of color will exist beyond the end of the world and that even in the bleakest of futures we will continue to love and thrive.

[spencer-sweets]

Marvel Fic Recs |James Logan Howlett/Wade Wilson

so like everyone with eyes - i found deadpool and wolverine wildly homoerotic. so, i have been keeping my eye out for some good fanfic of them. while i love the honda odyssey fics, this list is mainly longer narrative or character driven fics. I'll add more as they are completed and I read them.

Unwanted, Dead or Alive by fanficbug Explicit 29,666 “Logan,” Colossus chided. He turned his rage back on Colossus. “No. Fuck you, bolts for brains. No Deadpool? No. Fucking. Wolverine.” *** The X-Men of this universe want Logan to rejoin, but he's not interested unless they let Wade join too. Meanwhile, another threat makes itself known in the form of a skull-faced mercenary.

this one had a nice dose of action and pining and its just really great. i always like when these fanfictions feel like they are actually set in the world they are supposed to be in - with villains and danger just lurking about - and i always enjoy a good fight scene.

Newton's Third Law by capitalismwasamistake Explicit 30,385 “Come on, Wolfie, let’s not fight!” Wade sings as he evades the first swipe with an absurd dance move. “We’ll go dancing tomorrow night!” He retaliates with a kick to Logan’s jaw then both his katanas enter play. “Sorry, I know you wanted more of that song, but we don’t have the licensing budget. How about this instead? Stop!” “In the name of love–” “Before you break my heart–” *** Or, Logan is thrilled he can finally fight someone without holding back. Wade is horny and touch-starved. Oh, and there's The Problem.

this fic earned it's explicit rating. the dove is dead with this one folks. there is a lot of gore and fighting and a vivisection involved but it is a sweet story with a happy ending.

i’m just a human trying to avoid my certain doom (that is falling in love with you) by dazecorr  Teen+ 44,493 He shifted in his seat, the leather sticking to his skin as he absorbed Wade's colourful description. Gun. Even a knife would do. "Trust me, DP." Dopinder’s voice was earnest, almost pleading. "You'll see, everything will play out fine." With a final eye roll, Wade ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. As he opened the passenger door and climbed back into the Odyssey, Logan caught the tail end of a begrudging sigh. "Alright, Dopinder's playing the role of our cross-country cupid, so I guess we're doing this." Wade said, his voice cutting through the tension with its playful edge. "But if I end up thrown out of this 'soccer mom special' in the middle of the desert, I'm haunting you first." "Haunt away, you’ll just get a fist-full of salt thrown at your face." Logan muttered, a smirk threatening to break the stern façade. "Keep your hands off the radio." OR WHERE dopinder's getting married, vanessa is the best wing-woman, ellie is a gossip and logan is a very homosexual train wreck OR a poolverine slow burn-ish road trip fic in an immortalised honda odyssey.

im not typically a fan of road trip fics but i really enjoyed this one. it was quiet and soft story between these two. it explores both of them and their characters without the action or violence of the d&p movie.

[theoraclephobetor]

Franklyn makes Hannibal so uncomfortable and he hates this little cheese man so much.

Dan Fogler is a master for acting this character in such a smarmy and unsympathetic way - and he does it without making Franklyn actively evil or mean. There's just this undercurrent of piteous desperation in everything he does, and he's so obviously dysfunctional in a way that is deeply repellent to viewers.

For Hannibal, it's worse. Hannibal is canny enough to recognize another human who constantly wears a 'person suit'. He watches Franklyn craft himself a persona from their conversations, from his own preferences, moulding himself into a perfect friend for Hannibal. Franklyn has such an ego, and thinks that where the world failed a famous man, he - in his infinite capacity for support and friendship - could succeed. But in crafting his person suit to perfectly fit his therapist's tastes, he makes himself repugnant to Hannibal.

Franklyn is doing to Hannibal what Hannibal is trying to do for Will - he wants to make himself into Will's anchor, to get behind his walls and touch greatness, to be his saviour (in a way) and show Will his true potential.

And yet Franklyn is objectively pitiable.

Which means Hannibal, seeing his actions played out by this small man, has to grapple with the fact that he is also a small and desperate creature. He is also pitiable.

This is the same episode where Will talks about the Chesapeake Ripper as an insignificant thing that should not have been born and can never really be a person - no matter how hard it tries. He talks about the Ripper's person suit as an extrapolation - something that must exist because how else would he have evaded capture - but what Will sees in that moment is the Ripper.

Will takes so much longer to figure out Hannibal because he gives Hannibal his trust so early on in the series. He isn't looking too deeply below Hannibal's facade (which I firmly think he sees) because he trusts that there is something behind it that vaguely resembles a person. Hannibal gets all the credit for seeing that Will has a cruel streak, but Will also sees parts of Hannibal that (almost) no one else has spotted - mainly, that he holds himself firmly apart from people, even as he charms them.

And Will is completely right. Hannibal is so lonely that he goes to find Will when he doesn't show up to an appointment. He has been confronted with his own loneliness through Franklyn, while at the same time needing to shore up his identity as the Chesapeake Ripper after two copycat kills. Sorbet is all about Hannibal's identity crisis working in opposition to his desire to make Will Graham his friend.

That's also what Bedelia sees when she calls out Hannibal's person suit/human veil. Like yeah, she'll have a glass of rose and a nice conversation with him, because she honestly does like the character Hannibal's been puppeting for years. But she knows it's a shadow play. She knows that they may be friendly, but friendship requires knowing Hannibal. Bedelia peeked beneath that veil - once, at her most vulnerable moment - and she never forgets that the person suit is tailored for a lonely predator. She never forgets that the only way he was able to truly connect with her was to manipulate her into killing.

Bedelia's place in all this is so interesting to me, because for a little while she is the audience surrogate. She has the same knowledge of Hannibal's character as any viewer who grew up with The Silence of the Lambs. Later she becomes a participatory character (until Hannibal makes her a surrogate for Will), but in the beginning she exists to help show the watcher what they already know. She reaffirms - in a time when Will and Jack are becoming untethered from their realities - that what the viewer knows about Hannibal is true. Bedelia is the viewer's anchor in this narrative, up until the point she chooses to disappear from it.

Though she knows better than to clearly say as much, I think she hears about Franklyn and knows exactly why Hannibal wants nothing to do with him.

[majasleeps]

Ice Breaker

(first fanfic on here so idk how to format it but it'll be fine. also i'll be mainly making shit up so if anyone plays hockey... my apologies in advance lol)

Tim Lafleur x gn!reader

summary: you're a hockey player and a damn good one at that. You've loved being on the ice as long as you can remember and ever since discovering hockey it's been difficult to get you off the ice! You play in a local team for a college in Virginia and one day you encounter a particular boy on an opposing team.

1991

It's a few weeks before the high school tournaments start and your hockey team is in the rink practicing.

"FUCK!" the person you just slammed into the edge of the rink lets out a series of curses. You hear a whistle from your coach and you roll your eyes already knowing the reason. Yet he still yells it out for everyone to hear, "L/N! Excessive violence! Last warning or you're getting pulled."

You groan to yourself but nod at him in acknowledgement anyway and skate back to your post. Of course you help the person you technically assaulted since he was your teammate after all.

Yup, this was just practice but why shouldn't you give it your all here too? At least that's your reasoning. Especially seeing how you'll be up against actual other teams in just a few weeks. You had to be ready!

Well anyway you go on to train more, get a few warnings here and there, actually get put on the bench after causing one of your team player's nose to bleed. And the weeks pass by like it was nothing.

You're in the rink, getting ready in your position as you stare down some of the members of the opposing team, 'the enemies', as you dubbed them in your head.

And even though all of the players are 15 year olds, one stands out to you, mainly because he's quite a bit taller than the other kids, even compared to your team. But no time to think on that as the start signal is given. Everyone shoots in action and you're thriving in the competition. One person gets tackled, then another, someone shoots and misses and the other scores. It feels exhilarating especially looking at the board and seeing you're one point ahead.

Time's almost up and that tall kid from before seems to think he's gonna get a final puck in before the timer goes off. Well not on your watch. As he skates closer, evading the offensive lines on your team, he's getting ready to shoot. But just before he gets the chance you slam him to the ground with your own body, and a whistle and airhorn signal that 1) you got a warning (what a surprise) but 2) time's up. And your team won.

You celebrate inwardly for a quick second before getting up and stretching out your hand to the boy you tackled out of good sportsmanship. Although he doesn't seem to appreciate it, he smacks your hand away, gets up while ripping of his helmet, "What is your problem?!" he semi-yells.

You take off your own helmet so he can see your disgruntled expression. You shrug and say "Losing, losing is my problem so I won't lose."

He scoffs and skates away and you do the same to go celebrate with your team.

And even though this first impression was pretty sour, you can't tell if it bettered or not throughout the years. Neither of you ever knew each other that well, always different schools, always different districts yet somehow you two would always end up facing each other on the ice.

Years went by and you actually started to enjoy this rivalry between the two of you. Sometimes you won and he'd be pouty but sometimes you lost and he couldn't stop smirking. In the beginning that for sure bothered you but as this went on you didn't mind losing to him anymore. As you grew older of course you started learning things about him as well, like that his name is Tim Lafleur and a weird kid in general, at least according to every teammate he's ever had.

1998

Now he is in a university and you're in college and with busy life styles it doesn't leave much room for socializing. But you could always count on the ice to bring the two of you together. Over the years most of the original teams miraculously stayed pretty much the same. Here and there someone left and someone else took their place but amongst both your teams it had become a sort of unspoken rule that in the rink, no one gets to tackle you except Tim, and no one tackled Tim but you.

You're in the game playing against Tim's team and it's going great. The score is 2-2 and you're thrilled whenever you get closer to the goal because Tim would of course try to prevent you from getting even closer. And if you didn't know better, you'd think he was enjoying himself as much as you were.

Another goal scored by your team so you're now in the lead. Tim has the puck and is getting awfully close to a good position to score a goal. So you head straight for him, however you suppose the new fella in your team didn't get the memo about that unspoken rule. Because as you're almost there, the new guy slams Tim into the wall and a nauseating crack can be heard. Now usually when it's you, sure you're rough but Tim had always been smiling and gotten up within a few seconds.

But now... he lay there, silently groaning and not making a move to get up. A shock had not just overcome you but both teams and the entire crowd, everyone was silent. You were the first to snap out of it and rush to Tim.

"Jesus fuck! Are you alright Tim? Are you hurt?" you question him as you get down on your teams and turn him on his back. When you do he lets out a sharp gasp and you see that something is definitely wrong with his wrist...it's bend, and not in the right direction.

You turn to your teammate and yell out at him, "What is wrong with you?! You broke his fucking wrist, dickbag!!"

Another groan from Tim and your head immediately flies to him, speaking softly and reassuring him he'll be fine. By this time the coach has already come up to you two and informed the stand-by medics. People shot in action and in seemingly no time, Tim got carried away, and you were left to stand alone on the cracked ice.

After everything has calmed down, you go up to your coach.

"Hey coach? Is Tim gonna be alright?" He looks at you and lets out a slow breath.

"He'll be fine, Y/N. Going to take a while to recover from a broken wrist and some fractured fingers though so I doubt he'll be on the ice much"

You mull over his words for a bit before gathering up the courage to ask, "Is there any way I can visit him?" The tone in your voice almost makes you sound sheepish, as if this is taboo to ask, he IS your 'rival' after all.

He gives you a faint smile, "I'll talk to their coach to see if we can arrange anything yeah?" You smile back at that answer and nod your head.

Thanks to the coaches you're able to visit him at his apartment a few days later, though you're a bit self-conscious about it. Showing up at his apartment without him ever having told you the address might seem a bit weird.

But your worries melt away when you knock on the door and that white haired boy with all the piercings opens up. And when he notices it's you, he's smiling.

"Hey Y/N! Didn't expect you to visit me of all people", he laughs a bit.

You roll your eyes but nonetheless smile up at him, somehow he's gotten even taller over the years.

"How's the wrist doing? Heard it was a nasty surgery?" you asked him.

"Oh yeah blood and flesh everywhere" he's making exaggerated hand motions with his good hand causing you both to giggle. "Umm, anyway you wanna come in?" he offers looking at you expectantly.

"Yeah sure!" you didn't mean your face to light up when you accepted and you hope he didn't notice. He thinks it's cute you're happy to be around him.

He leads you to his bedroom, quickly introducing you to his roommate Darryl. He flops on the bed and hisses out as the motion was a tad too violent for his arm.

You hurry next to him on his bed, trying to make sure he's okay. "You good there?" you ask as you take his arm carefully.

He grimaces a bit at first but it soon turns into a playful smirk. "No it hurts so much Y/N!" he exclaims dramatically, "I think the only thing that could heal my wounds is a kiss" He looks at you as he says that, his smile never fading but now there's a slight anxiety in his eyes. You don't notice that and just roll your eyes. You decide to play along, "okay there big guy, but I don't think my kisses are magical enough to heal broken bones", and you kiss the cast around his wrist.

"There, feel better?" you laugh along with him. He seems to get a glint of confidence in his eye as he bites his lip hard around to draw a bit of blood.

"You think you could kiss this wound too?" as he point at his lower lip.

You're speechless for a moment and it's enough for him to backtrack. He starts rambling that you don't have to and it was a dumb idea, etc. Before he can go on, you lean in and give him a peck on the small puncture wound in his lip.

Now it's his turn to be stunned as you sit there equally flustered. A moment of silence before the two you start smiling like idiots in love, which frankly, you were.

"I think I need a bit more of those magic lips, love." He says and you silently agree as you lean in again, this time slower, for a proper kiss. Like two ice skaters in the rink, your lips graciously glide together to form an amazing symphony of fireworks in your head and heart. The both of you are still smiling in the kiss and you can still taste the bit of blood but neither of you mind it.

You're probably softly kissing each other for a few minutes before finally breaking away and taking the chance to get a proper breath.

You grin at him and say "I guess I'll be seeing you off the ice more often then right?"

He grins back "Oh absolutely"

[carcarcraziiv2]

aphelios and blood play??!!!!

Amazing, iconic, and PERFECT. ABSOLUTELY.

Here you go 💜

TW: Blood Play, minor injury?, sex, needles, there's a TON of mentions of blood obviously. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK !

WORD COUNT: 1797

A/N- Imma be so fr I didn't proof read but i dont think there should be a TON of errors??!??? lol <3 IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT AND ILY FOR SENDING A REQUEST!

Aphelios is filthy.

He was always like this, at least on the inside.

The two of you got very comfortable together, feeling free to discuss anything and everything on your minds. One day however, something came to light that you hadn't known about Aphelios yet.

You and Phel had gone on a bit of an adventure in some local wooded areas. Mainly hiking and overall just having fun goofing about in the forest.

You had worn a low-cut shirt that day, a V-neck tank to keep cool in the summer heat. After a particularly entertaining minute of teasing your partner, he had given you a look that said, "you better run, because I'm going to tickle you to death in about two seconds."

You giggled as you evaded him, running through greenery and ducking every now and again to avoid trees as small branches and leaves whipped across your arms and chest.

Soon enough you had to stop, panting in place with a huge smile on your face, bracing for an onslaught. As Phel came to a stop before you, matching your goofy expression, he glanced down at your chest before hyper fixating on something he spotted there.

You creased your brow, looking down to notice a small trickle of blood seeping from a small cut under your collar bone, sinking down and under your tank.

"Oh," you had said, "I didn't even notice I was bleeding." For a moment you felt grateful, used to Phel's silent social ques for you to pay attention to something in particular.

You went to clean it off, but Aphelios suddenly reached up and gripped your wrist to stop you.

He licked his lips, eyes never leaving where they once were. To your surprise, he lent down and caressed the spot with his tongue. Your eyes went wide, even though his action had fireworks erupting in your belly. Only when he pulled away and looked at you with heated eyes did you dare a glance down, noticing he was hard.

"Oh," you said again. Apparently Aphelios had a blood kink.

After that, you two didn't discuss what had happened. You were thinking that Phel may have been ashamed, although he hadn't really done anything to appear that way. Why would he hide something that he enjoys? Especially something that sexually arouses him?

One day, after a particularly large amount of research and a continuous increase in your own interest in trying things out, you addressed the situation with him.

"Hey my love, I have a question," you had started, not looking away from the book you held in your hands until you completed your statement to look over at him. The two of you were sitting on the couch, both indulging in your own little hobbies as you relaxed together; you reading and Phel drawing in his sketchbook.

He tore his gaze away from his artwork, nodding at you to continue with your inquiry.

"Remember that day we went out hiking? I was thinking about what happened after you chased me," fiddling with the tips of the pages of your book, you trailed off as you watched his expression go from one of curiosity to realization, before he finally nodded. He flipped to a blank page in his notebook and wrote.

When I licked the blood off of your chest?

For a moment after he handed it to you, you saw his nostrils flare and pupils dilate.

Unbeknownst to you, even the thought shrilled him. He thought about it a lot; how you tasted, the color of your life source seeping from your skin, the way the flush on your cheeks matched the tone of the blood that he had just consumed from your body.

"Yeah... I was wondering... would you want to try something with me?"

Phel looked at you with a surprised expression, noting your nervous stature. He gently took the sketchbook back from you and wrote again.

You want to try something, like blood play? I don't want you to do something you're not comfortable with just for the sake of me. Either way, I don't want to hurt you.

He handed it back to you once more, and you nodded as you read, silently giving him the confirmation he was looking for.

"First of all, I would hope you would know by now I am not opposed to a little pain during sex. Plus, I bought some things to help us, if you're comfortable. But of course, we need to do some sanitizing and whatnot," You gulped, standing and heading for an unopened amazon package left on the counter. The night prior, you had seen that people recommended both needles, or if you really want something more knifelike, a scalpel. Of course you ordered both, you wanted to have options. "Have you ever done this with anyone before, Phel?"

He shook his head, watching you strut back over with the two small boxes in your hand.

After some time and some communicating, the two of you found your flow. The easiest and most sensual ways to draw blood, and how to incorporate it during sex.

Phel loved watching it seeping from its source, using the needles. Your blood sucking up into the tube aroused his thoughts to how beautiful your skin would look covered in the same dark red substance- so that's what he did.

Spread out on the bed, towels soft under your bare skin, Phel sat on his knees between your legs.

You shivered as you gazed at his toned body, he lifted the vial he held and uncapped it with his teeth. The popping sound of the lid caused you to jump slightly.

The sight was nearly vampiric as a splash of the liquid inside jumped up onto his lip, dripping slowly down his chin.

He glanced at you a moment, asking for permission. His constant appreciation for your consent even this long into your relationship never ceased to thrill you. It made the throbbing desire in your body burn even brighter as you gave him a silent nod in approval.

He leant down briefly to kiss you, easing your mouth open with his tongue. This was so taboo to you, tasting your own blood on his lips that you couldn't help but whimper into his mouth. When he pulled away and saw the smudge on your lips, his pupils dilated, his breathing became heavier and without a moment's notice he poured the empty vial over your naked chest.

His gaze followed seemingly every direction it fell. You squirmed as the liquid tickled your skin during its descent. His veined hand reached forward, caressing the sides of your stomach and smearing your blood over your skin.

Again, you squirmed beneath him, and his eyes shot up to your before he dived down to kiss you once more. Kissing down your neck, you leant your head to the side to allow him more access, breathlessly moaning his name as he went. His hands trailed all up and down your body, and you could feel his hips move in desperation as he swiped over all the wet spots.

He shamelessly moved down your body with his lips and tongue, licking long strips along your skin while looking at you through thick lashes. His pink eyes spoke all the words he wanted to say to you in that moment.

You are extraordinary.

Look at you, being so perfect for me.

My dream partner.

You are my moon and my stars.

He reached the precipice of your thighs, and kissed down until you could feel his breath cooling your warm front. you couldn't help but adjust yourself slightly embarrassed at his long stare. He looked back up at you, and the most feline Chesire grin spread across his lips.

"Please, Phel..." you murmured, your hands tangling into his soft blue hair and moving it out of his eyes.

My good fucking b/g he thought, as he dived down to pleasure you.

You writhed beneath him, stars clouding your vision as he used his hand and tongue to feast on you.

Once you tugged on his hair, you craved for more, pulling him off of you. He couldn't help it, as he trailed his eyes over your red skin he tore off his boxers, revealing his hard veiny length. The tip was flush red, and a drip of pre fell from the slit.

You nearly drooled with how salivated you became looking upon him.

Aphelios smirked to himself, knowing your fucked out look was only going to get more relevant once he inserted himself in you. He was feeling so feral, keen on getting your blood smeared on his skin as well. He wanted to wear it all night, although he knew you would make him shower after this.

He slowly began pushing his dick into your entrance, catching you off guard in your daze.

"Fu-fuck Phel!", your back arched off of the bed, and he let out a deep breath and shook his head slightly as if to calm himself as he watched your hole suck him in.

He began rocking slowly at first, using one hand to trail down your body and the other to play with your front. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, and when you adjusted to grab your chest and stomach in your ecstasy, Aphelios lost it when he saw your blood cover your hands.

He pumped into your relentlessly then, shamelessly, letting out grunts and whimpers into the sex ridden air. You couldn't keep quiet either as he gripped your thighs and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

Feeling the cusp of your orgasm, you gripped the towels beside you in your fists and leant up on your elbows. Biting your lip, you dared a glance down to see the base of his cock as he rammed into you.

Eyes rolling back, you caught sight of the sweat dyed pink trailing down Phel's chest and you fell to pieces. Coming undone, your muscles pulsed around him, and he thrust hard a few times until he let out a long jagged breath, his release hitting him hard.

He pulled out of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust and him to feel the last pings of pleasure as your hole tried to keep him inside.

"God damn, I have never seen you that riled up before my love," you panted as he fell to your side, laying on his back. He glanced at you and rested his hand on his chest smirking. He couldn't keep his eyes off of all the smears, and although you thought it was hot your first thought was to get this man clean.

"Shower time?" you smiled shyly, and he rolled his eyes, pouting. He shook his head no and you arched a brow.

Silly how a man who just took you like an animal can go from that to pouting within an instant.

[senditcolton]

can this be a real thing? can it?

a/n: here is my submission for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy 's Eras Tour Challenge. I was given "Snow on the Beach" and Jeremy Swayman. And I went out there with this song, transforming it into another royalty au. Did I shove multiple Taylor Swift lyric references in here? Yes. Does it connect to the Prince Andrei universe? Yes. Did I write this whole thing while live-streaming the last show of the Eras Tour? Yes. Hence why I'm posting in literally in the middle of the night, my time. I had hoped to get it out sooner but I ended up sobbing during surprise songs and needed to take a minute. But anyway, I love this fic and creating it made me appreciate this song a lot more than I did.

summary: Princess Patrycja Berezovsky is a pawn in the game of thrones. She is seen as the eligible princess of Roslindale, destined to be married off to the highest bidder. Nothing more. The only person that sees behind the mask is her sworn protector Jeremy. song inspo: "Snow on the Beach" (feat. Lana Del Rey) word count: 4.9k warnings: royalty au! knight x princess, forbidden romance, unresolved angst, the general medieval attitudes towards women, attempted suicide, and tragedy with a capital T (i'm sorry).

The moonlight casts a silver glow over Princess Patrycja Berezovsky’s room, overpowering the small golden light emanating from the dying embers in her hearth. It cascades over the new gown hanging on her wardrobe, dancing over the jewels resting on her vanity. Everything glitters and shines in the light, flawless and beautiful and perfect. Just like she was.

But in the silence of the early winter night, the princess’ eyes remain open, sleep evading her even now. In this moment, Patrycja felt like she might shatter into a million pieces. Like she was the embodiment of the crystal swan – the emblem of her country of Roslindale – perched on her nightstand. False and fragile. All because of what tomorrow would bring.

Tomorrow was the reason for the brand-new gown on her wardrobe. The reason for the royal tiara on her vanity. Tomorrow, she would be boarding a boat and sailing down the coast to be married to the crown prince of Carolyna. A marriage that Patrycja had no say in.

She knew this moment was coming. She had known it from the moment she turned fifteen. That was the first year that the scrolls had started arriving from all across the land, when she was fitted for a new dress every month, when she was paraded into the throne room and forced to meet the suitors that came to offer their hand in marriage.

Back then, it had been exciting. She had been giddy, her mind swimming with the songs that she heard played in court and the stories passes down from folk tales; stories of beautiful maidens meeting handsome princes, of knights rescuing damsels, of lovers whose romance brought about magic and overcame every obstacle.

But she had quickly learned that life was not like the songs.

She couldn’t pinpoint a precise time when that realization hit her, if there ever was an exact moment. It felt more like a slow build, a chain reaction of events leading her to that conclusion.

The first time she met one of the suitors in her father’s throne room who happened to be thrice her age.

The times her father refused to talk to her about her choice of suitors, instead looking towards the councilmen around him as if she weren’t even in the same room, as if she didn’t have an opinion in these negotiations.

Every time she was asked what she felt about one particular suitor or another, her concerns of age or cruelty or just general dislike were brushed off as vanity, glossed over because that prince or lord had a kingdom that yielded good crops or commanded a strong army.

Marriage was a political arrangement. And it was arrangement in which she hastily learned she had no say.

It had been three years since the first scroll arrived, her marriage to whatever eligible man her father and his council chose delayed. Mainly because of their focus on the war against Her father and his council held off for three years, their focus more on the war against Vizcaya. But when the opposing countries army had secured their claim to the lands surrounding the Stanley River Valley in the west, the council’s focus shifted from winning the war to recovering their losses. And the easiest recovery for the kingdom of Roslindale was by securing the engagement of Patrycja to the crown prince of Carolyna. A man that Patrycja had met only once before – two years ago.

The entire situation – her entire life – had turned from a fairytale into one giant tragedy. Her path had been planned out since she took her first breath. Her fate was sealed, the prophecy was written. Now, the weight of her future was locked onto her like a ball and chain, dragging her down. Something that she could not fight no matter how hard she tried. It felt ironic: here she was, princess of a great country whose name carried great power but she herself, had none.

There was nothing she could do.

That was the thought that had been twirling in her head, the image of her dancing in a strange ballroom, trapped in the arms of a man who did not care for her. A man who could bed a hundred other woman without penalty. A man who she would essentially be sold to for what? His country’s naval power?

There was no escape. She had no power to stop it, to change anything.

There was nothing she could do.

Patrycja can feel the panic rise in her chest, her ribcage rising and falling at a rapid pace. In a haste, she throws off her bedcovers, her body lifting from the plush mattress. The moonglow is still flooding into her chambers, casting a ghostly silver light over everything. She rises from her bed, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floors as she walks towards the glass doors, pushing them open and walking onto the balcony overlooking the ocean.

The early winter chill hits her skin, causing goosebumps to rise, helping to slow her panicked breathing, if only slightly. Her blue eyes stay fixed on the horizon, watching as the waves crash onto the shore, the beat of the ocean slower than the beat of her heart. The cold air stings her lungs with every inhale and she can feel the scream perched just below jaw, begging to be released. But she doesn’t let it fall.

It was a skill that she had perfected long ago. Hide every ugly, raw, uncouth emotion behind her polished façade. Never let them see you crack. Accept your fate with a demure smile and a graceful curtsy. It was what was expected. It had been expected of her from the moment she was born. It would be expected of her till the moment she died.

There was nothing she could do.  

She felt fake. Part of her wondered if she was even a real human anymore or if she had been transformed into the crystalline swans embroidered onto tapestries, engraved onto the palace doors, embossed into the castle walls. That she had turned from a person with emotions and needs into something monetary – something beautiful and valuable and disposable.  

Patrycja knew she hadn’t faded entirely because she could feel the pure want build inside of her body. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted… to have a say in how her life was plotted. But there was nothing she could do.

The crash of the ocean waves draws her back to the present moment, her eyes refocusing down the cliffside the castle was perched on to the dark blue almost black ocean, the darkness broken only by the white foam on the waves. And the sight of that sea, so far below her, pulls a story from England into the forefront of her mind. A story that whispers through her thoughts in a voice of a young maiden so much like her. A maiden who, driven to despair over the lack of control and agency in her life, chose to meet the waters and drown.

Patrycja Berezovsky had no power in this life. Except one.

She had the power to say when it ended.

The clarity settles into her bones, as cold as the air around her, freezing any panic that once existed in her veins, replacing it instead with a chilling acceptance.

Patrycja spins away from the stone railing of her balcony, crossing her bedchamber to the door. The heavy oak gives way with the push of her hand and she pokes her head out of the small crack, eyes glancing around the silent hallway. It is abandoned, the moon the only light and the sheer luck of being able to slip out of her bedchamber unnoticed seems like a sign from the universe urging her on. She doesn’t hesitate to leave, not even grabbing a cloak or candle or slippers.

She knows that her current fortune would not last to the seashore. The night patrol would be walking the halls, guard would be posted outside every exit. But Patrycja knew the secrets that the palaces stone wall held, secrets that most guards were not privy to.

You see, there were tunnels that wound their way through the bowels of the castle and led directly to the cliffside overlooking the ocean. Her uncle Brajan had showed her these passages when she was a child, excited to share his hidden playground with his niece. Patrycja wondered if he saw something of himself in her. He had always been the black sheep, willful and wild and never tied down. She shared a similar desire. Maybe that was why he showed her a way to escape.

However, she knows that her current plan, one to not only escape the castle but escape the trappings of her life was not the form of freedom he had in mind. She sends a silent thank you to him anyway, hoping that when the news reached him, he would understand. Pressing on a painted panel a few paces down the hall, the entrance whooshes open, reveal a staircase to Patrycja.

The tunnels are cold but comforting, a labyrinth that she knew like the back of her hand. Her body naturally moves her around turns and corners, the steeled resolve never wavering in her veins.

The chilled ocean breeze is the first thing she can feel, even before the world appears to her, the exit a small silver box promising her a getaway. The cacophony of waves is louder down here than from her chamber’s balcony, only increasing in sound as she walks closer.

Finally, her bare feet hit the delicate grass of the cliffside, the wind ruffling her pale blonde hair. The edge of the outlook is within sight. Patrycja moves forward, her eyes fixed on the line where the earth ends and the sky begins until she is near enough to the edge to see the ocean waves crashing beneath her. She watches the water break against the rocks below, the waves beckoning to her with their steady ebb and flow, the foam retreating back into the darkness, seemingly begging her to follow their path. The wind picks up the edge of her long nightdress, the hem fluttering in the breeze, her long flowing sleeves cascading behind her.  

She is sure she looks like a character from a song, ready to meet her fate. She is sure that her life will be reduced to a tragedy. What kind? Of that she isn’t sure. People will either whisper about the princess who went mad and killed herself or she will be an archetype in a folk tale, a tragic heroine that took control of her life in the only way she could.

There was no way of knowing what she would become once she was gone. There was only the going.

A small slip of the rocks beneath her lurches her body, the surprise pausing her forward momentum briefly. She takes a small breath, steadying herself again, before taking another step forward. She could do this. There was nothing stopping her but her own fear and hesitancy.

That is, until she feels the tight grip of a hand on her shoulder.

The mere touch stops her in her tracks. She was supposed to be alone. This was supposed to be her escape. Her entire body stays frozen in place, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. She just keeps her gaze focused on the beach below, the waves still kissing the sharp rocks. Then, a voice sounds out, rising above the crash of the sea.

“Princess?”

Patrycja recognizes its tone and timbre. Her own surprise accompanied by the press of the hand on her shoulder forces her to turn around. And her blue eyes land on the concerned brown ones of Ser Jeremy – her knight, her sworn protector.

The moonlight glints off his armor, the black metal looking even darker in the night, the only color on his body coming from the gold of the cloak clasped around his shoulders. Patrycja watches as his gaze dances across her face, glancing down at her thin nightdress, her bare feet.

“What are doing out here?” he asks, the concern lacing his question. The query demands an answer, an explanation – one that Patrycja is hesitant to give. So, she stands frozen, her eyes still distant and stare blank as Jeremy continues to look at her.

His hand falls from her shoulder, tracing down her arm to loop around her wrist. The hold around the joint is delicate, as is the pull of it on her arm. Jeremy’s gentle urging makes her walk a few steps forward, at least until they are away from the edge of cliff. Patrycja watches as he reaches behind him, tugging the golden material of his cloak. Above the ambient noise of the ocean, she can hear the clasps holding the material click, the fabric releasing. He twirls the material around her, quickly and efficiently wrapping it around her frame, the soft cotton descending upon her own shoulders. Jeremy pulls the fabric tight around her, willing the winter chill away.

Jeremy’s voice sounds again as his hands move against her arms in an attempt to both warm her and shake her out of the fugue state she was in. He repeats his prior question, the syllables still laced with confusion and the silent request for any response lingered in the air.   

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrycja finally speaks, her voice quiet and humorless. She watches his eyes look over her before flicking to the where the earth gave way to the sea and then back to her. She can see the realization settle in his dark irises and she can feel a strange ache in her heart at the sadness that seems to spark in his eyes along with that understanding.

“Why?”

His question is a genuine one, she knows this. But his ignorance at the position she was in, the choices made without her consent, choice that drove her to choose this path, ignites a righteous anger in her. That fire flows through her veins and all that bottled rage and anguish that she had been holding back for years finally bursts forth.

“Why? Why?! God, Jeremy, why do you think!?” Patrycja says, her voice rising with every sentence.

She throws his hands off her with a sharp shake of her body, the anger forcing her to move, even if it is only to pace side to side in front of him. Part of her knew that she couldn’t go further even if she wanted to, not with Jeremy’s eyes following her every step.

“I am about to be married off to someone I met two years ago, a marriage that I have no say in in a life that I have no say in! I have no control, no power. I might be a princess but I am not awarded the agency that every man around me is given freely. I am an item: a brood mare, a diamond to auctioned off to the highest bidder. Percious cargo to be shipped off to another country. Forced to be tied a man that I do not know and do not love. At the worst, he could be cruel – at best, indifferent. Regardless, I will belong to him for the rest of my life. And there is nothing I can do to stop it except walk off that precipice, let the rocks meet me and the waves take me.”

Her final declaration is emphasized with a point of her finger towards the cliffside. Jeremy’s eyes follow her gesture and Patrycja sees the dark brown irises harden in a rocky determination before returning to her, locking with her hysteric gaze.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says, his voice steady in its resolve.

“Yes, you can,” Patrycja replies, stalking towards him, the finger that had been pointing to ocean now pressed against his breastplate. “You are sworn to me. So if I demand you to return to the castle and let me die, you have to obey.”

“I cannot obey you in this, Princess. You are right, I am sworn to you. I took an oath to guard your secrets, to defend your name and honor, to give my blood for yours and protect with all my strength and – ”

“Then protect me!” Patrycja screams. Her hand reaches for the hilt of the sword hanging at his side, her hand stopped by Jeremy’s own calloused palm wrapping around her wrist. She can feel the tears that are tracking down her cheeks, her blue eyes gazing up at him as her voice breaks.

“Please. Jeremy, please. Save me from a fate that I do not want, from a life that I cannot control.”

“I can’t let you die!” Jeremy exclaims, pulling her body to his, his hands turning to grip her waist as he meets her pleading gaze. The close proximity forces Patrycja to keep his steady gaze. She had never noticed how the moonlight turned them from their normal dark umber to a brighter chestnut color.

“I can’t let you die. Even if it is by your own hand,” he declares, quieter this time, one of his hands reaching up to brush away her windswept hair from her cheek. “Not if I can stop it.”

This was dangerous. The thought passes through Patrycja’s mind before she can help it and she quietly scoffs at its absurdity. Of course this was dangerous. It would be that way even if her and Jeremy were twenty paces apart from each other. The two of them shouldn’t be out of the castle, alone together, at this time of night. But standing here in her thin nightgown, her sworn protectors’ cloak around her shoulders, his hands on her body, their frames close enough that Patrycja can feel his breath fanning across her cheeks, the warmth a sharp contrast to the chill around them… it was compromising.

Very compromising, in fact.

The realization seeps into her bones faster than the realization that she could jump from the cliffside if she wanted to. Here was another way to escape that wouldn’t cost her life. There were few weapons in a princesses’ arsenal but one was their virtue. And if that was sullied, she would be shunned, most likely disowned. She would be free.

So, without hesitation, she lifts her body up to press her lips against Jeremy’s.

It was an impulsive decision, not even entirely thought out. She didn’t know if anyone had already discovered them standing on the cliffside together, if there even was a witness to this indiscretion. It was reckless and rash. But all thought: her original plan to throw herself into the ocean, her reasoning behind the kiss, her anger, her anguish, her desperation, her hysteria… it all disappeared with the touch of Jeremy’s lips.

And in its place… a peace.

The feeling of his lips against hers was indescribable. The sensation was… magical. It felt similar to the emotions that used to fill her body when heard tales and songs of true love, an emotion that she had hoped to experience for real when she kissed her own prince charming; warm, beautiful, and all encompassing.

And it certainly didn’t hurt that Jeremy was kissing her back. The hand that had been on her waist had tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer to his body, the cold metal of his armor pressing against her front. His other hand had fallen from behind her ear where he had so tenderly tucked her hair to cup her jaw, guiding her deeper into the kiss. The way his fingers rest on her skin is delicate, touching her with a reverence that she had never felt so personally, holding her like she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Which, considering the position he had found her in only moments ago, might have been true.

The sensation of Jeremy’s kiss is gone as swiftly as it came. He pulls away from her, his head ducking down. In regret? In embarrassment? In disgust – at her or himself? She didn’t know.

The two stand there frozen and it only then that Patrycja notices the snow falling from the sky. The white flakes land on Jeremy’s dark hair and armor, covering him with a natural silver glitter that sparkles in the moonlight. He looks even more like a hero in the songs – the melancholy knight, honor bound to his king… to his princess.

“Why did you do that?”

His question is slightly muffled by the tilt of his head and the gentle snowfall but Patrycja can hear the sharpness of his words, a small undercurrent of anger painting the syllables. She stands frozen, unsure on what to say in response, much like when he asked her a question earlier that night. But unlike before, the reason she does not answer is not because she was caught in a catatonic state. It because she wasn’t sure of the answer now.

“Was that your newest escape plan?” Jeremy continues, his dark eyes finally reconnecting to hers. “Kiss me and be shunned? It is clever – your father would most likely disinherit you, send you away to a convent or some other institute where you would never be seen again. But I would be killed for besmirching the Princess’ honor.”

The guilt crashes Patrycja with the strength of the ocean waves beating on the cliffside. She should’ve realized that her choice would affect Jeremy. Even before the kiss and the feeling that it brought forward, she had always cared about him. He was kind and noble and brave. He had always kept his oath, preformed his duty as her sworn protector. Tonight was no different. He stopped her attempt to end her life and how had she repaid him? By trying to implicate him in an action that would not only undo the honor that he had worked so hard to achieve but would force him to meet the hangman’s noose.

“So did you?” he asks, his voice pulling Patrycja back, her blue eyes meeting his hardened gaze. “Did you kiss me in the hopes that someone was watching and would report back to your father?”

The shame thrumming through her body forces her to respond.  

“I did. At least, that was the plan. But now…”

Patrycja’s voice trails off and she can see Jeremy’s eyes soften in understanding. He must’ve felt it too, that force, that magic between them; rarer than a comet or the aurora borealis. It had enveloped both of them, covered them like the snow now covering the beach… unlikely, strange, but beautiful.

“Why did you kiss me back?” Patrycja questions, her head tilting ever so slightly in confusion. “Even if it would mean death for you?”

The change of expression on Jeremy’s face is almost imperceptible, just a small lift of one corner of his mouth in a subtle smirk.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he responds, an echo of the first words she spoke to him that night. “I’m sworn to you. I am willing to die for you. In every way.”

Oh. Oh.

It had always been Jeremy. He had always been there, by her side and not just because duty demanded it. It was because he felt something towards her – something more than just the devotion of a knight to his princess. It couldn’t be real. This was impossible… as impossible as the snow falling around them. Jeremy… loved her? At least, he cared about her – deeply.

Patrycja watches Jeremy’s head drop, the smile disappearing from his face.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything. Not now, at least.”

She knew what Jeremy meant with those words. There was never a time or place for him to confess his feelings towards her. Their positions simply didn’t allow it. But his confession coming out now, mere moments after she was planning to end her life, the night before she was to be married off… it was jarring to say the least. But a small part of Patrycja doesn’t care.

“Would you ever have told me how you felt?”

“It is not my place to ask for the affection of a princess,” Jeremy replies, the smile returning to his face but this time it was laden with sadness.

The reasoning behind his melancholy seems to hit Patrycja slowly. Of course he wouldn’t have told her. Even if he had confessed to her before tonight, they would’ve never been able to explore their feelings, safely. It would be forbidden, dangerous. One misstep could spell the end for them both.

These emotions existed in a space that they could not survive in. This could never exist. All they could only have this moment – in the peace and calm of snowfall on the cliffside, the moon as their only witness.

“I’m glad you told me,” Patrycja whispers, her gentle confession drawing Jeremy’s attention back to her. “At least I know that there is someone out there who sees me as more than just my title and my inheritance. It’s a comforting thought.”

Jeremy only offers her a subtle bow of his head, the action of a knight proud to serve his princess. Nothing more. Patrycja can see the rise of his chest is response to his deep inhale, his head lifting, shoulders straightening and she heartachingly watches as his own mask – one of a  duty-bound knight – falls back into place.

“We should get you back inside, Princess.”

The words aren’t meant to be cruel but Patrycja can feel the cut of them in her heart, the pain of which shocks her back fully to the present. She registers the numbness in her fingers and toes, feels the dampness of her now snow-ladened hair, and a shiver wracks through her body. And finally, the wave of exhaustion sweeps over her, brought on by the lack of sleep and every choice, plan, secret that had been revealed.

There is no arguing from her, no fight. Instead, she just nods her head and walks back towards the castle. She can feel the familiar comforting presence of Jeremy trailing closely behind her, an energy that meant so much now, after the revelations of tonight. Patrycja walks back through the hidden tunnels, turning the opposite directions that she had mere hours ago until she was climbing the staircase that would lead to the secret entrance a few paces down from the door of her bedchamber.

Before they walk out into the hall, Jeremy steps in front her, his head poking through the crack in the wall, checking to see if anyone was lingering the corridors. It was only when he confirmed the coast was clear did he step forward, allowing Patrycja to walk into the hallway before he clicked the panel back into place. He escorts her to her chambers, standing a few paces behind her as her hands grasp the iron doorhandle. But before she can pull open the carved oak, Jeremy’s hands once again stop her.

In a move that was laden with every ounce yearning, every impossible desire, his hands gently grasp the edges of his golden still thrown over her shoulders. The fabric falls from her, exposing her skin to silver moonlight. Patrycja can only let in a shuddering breath, brought on by the intimacy that was a whisper of what she now knew they could’ve shared… if only they were different people. 

“Good night, Princess,” Jeremy says, his whisper echoing down the hallway and Patrycja desperately holds onto warmth that his devotion provided her, if only for a moment, before she steps back into her gilded cage.

She walks into her bedchamber, ready to lay her head down on her pillow and let herself fall into what she hopes is a deep and dreamless slumber. But as she is about to pull the door close behind her, a tremor of fear runs through her. She turns, her gaze now landing on Jeremy’s back, his golden cloak once again secured to his shoulders.

“Jeremy,” she says, her voice calling his attention back to her. She swears she can feel her heart skip a beat when his gentle brown eyes fall on her. “You aren’t going to tell anyone anything? About tonight?”

She can see the understanding cross over his expression, knowing that she meant her sneaking out, the hidden tunnels, how she had been on the cliffside, ready to jump into the waves, their kiss, everything. A soft smile tugs at his lips before he speaks.

“I swear to ward the Princess. With all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

His words were verbatim to the vow that he took in the throne room, kneeling in front of both her and her father while the rest of the court looked down on them. That day where he became more than a knight from the Rosalind ranks, when he turned into her sworn protector. It was his promise to her.

“That was the oath I took,” Jeremy says, his voice filled with the sincerity that Patrycja had only dreamed of receiving. “My first and only duty is to you.”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @svexhenthusiast

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[scary-lasagna]

Welcome back kitty!I just saw that you came back 😭 anyway I wanted to ask, what's proxy training like? Or does a proxy have to succeed in any certain training to be declared a proxy?

These: 1 , 2 touch a little bit on how the training is incorporated.

Proxy Training

It depends how the person is selected as a proxy.

For example, Tim and Brain were given The Sickness first and watched over a good portion of their life. Slender knew them inside and out, so really all he needed to do was teach them combat and then school them about the ways of really being a proxy. He didn't need to mentally deconstruct them and build them back up, or test their limits. He already knew all of that.

If Slender decides to throw The Sickness on someone, they'll likely be a feeble mind, a child usually, and then follow them up to adulthood. But in cases like Toby, who was already mentally damaged enough to manipulate, it didn't take much to get him to mold to his will.

But these days, he doesn't have time for shenanigans like that. He has paperwork to complete, a house to run, a house to clean, food to cook, and keeping silly little humans alive when they decide to sled down the main staircase.

He has five proxies that know the ropes of everything, so the task outside of paperwork and select training exercises will be handled by them, mainly Tim, considering he's Slender's right hand.

The training exercises that Slender attends are usually final tests, or the proxies convince him to play '8 pages' on one of his few off days.

It helps with coordination, stealth, awareness, everything one would need to practice, really.

And once one of the proxies are 'captured' (Slender just grabs em with a tendril and tosses them a bit too hard for comfort), they play on the opposing team. So now, you aren't just evading a monstrous eldritch being that can sniff you out form anywhere, but also human sized co-workers that'll beat you up much worse if they happen to catch you before Slender does.

ANYWAY

Slender will have the new proxy fill out paperwork, basically a consent form for devoting their soul to him no matter what happens. And he'll explain the pile of papers in great detail, answering any questions you may have, even the silly ones.

Then, he'll let them familiar themselves with the manor and new co-workers as he sets up a specialized mission to observe their skills and flaws. Their co-workers are allowed to assist them, but never warn them about the tests. Slender needs a blind reaction for untainted results.

Ben helps with the constant surveillance once they're sent out. He takes notes, mini essays, pictures, clips, anything to get a glimpse of who you really are when you're caged in a corner while kicking and screaming for release.

It's a little traumatic, but it's necessary to see if you're suiting for the line of work you're going into. Slender won't have a proxy that will abandon their peers to save their own skin, that's just cowardice and a terrible flaw in his planning.

And each proxy had a different entry test, it's all based on what they're most afraid of, and evasive their nature is.

Once the first mission of theirs is over, the next one will follow up soon after, narrowing down their possibilities into certain classes and subclasses of proxy.

For example, Masky is a brute, being the muscle of the group. Toby is a Scout, running ahead of the group to find danger before it reaches them. Kate is a chaser, Clock is a tracker, etc.

If he still can't find a spot for the new proxy after two missions, he'll give them a written test to discover any hidden morals that he hasn't uncovered, and then one more physical test that will narrow down his final decision.

If they survive this far, they will be awarded their title, and the ability to design their mask one-on-one with Slender.

They must also choose a spot to be marked by Slender, something that could be hellishly compared to a tattoo. This marking will protect them from getting targeted by other Operators, proxies, and entities. It gives off an aura that shuns off other creatures, like a bad scent.

After they’re assigned a class and marked properly, they’ll receive special training for that class. For example, if they got brute, they will be trained in physical combat, endurance, strength, and stamina. For Scout, they’ll receive tracking courses, stamina training, field medical training, and memorization of the forest paths.

All proxies will receive torture training in case of emergency, such as being captured or held hostage. As well as torture training, all proxies will learn about the creatures of the Black Forest, including what’s dangerous and what’s not. (Apparently this doesn’t apply to Toby since he’s keen on bringing whatever the Hell he wants home with him).

Other than the official training and whatever Slender tells them, everything else is learned on the field or told to them by other proxies. They’ll look after you for a few weeks before letting you attempt things on your own.

They’ll let you learn at a distance but keep an eye on you if you need help or something unexpected happens that a trained proxy needs to handle.

[dragonflame32]

Bad Sansuary day 2: show off (feat. Dust)

I am using a little OC of mine for this, since I think she really fits the Bad Sanses (ahem she's crazy ahem). We're in a scenario where she's been with the gang for a while now. There is no romanticism in this, I think it'll mainly be her interacting with the gang following the prompts. It's also a weird mix of canon and fanon. I tried my best, but beware of the cringe >_<

Bad Sansuary belongs to @owl-bones

Dust belongs to @ask-dusttale

Ashes belongs to me

Dust stared at the screen of the console with the image of game over for him for a long moment. Then he stared at the laughing mess beside him going by the name of Ashes. Then he looked back at the screen, confused and trying to figure out what just happened as Horror and Killer, who were also playing with him to the game that just ended, stared in awe and surprise at the screen as well wondering the same thing. In all of this, Ashes's screen was the only one showing the victory screen. And the little showoff was laughing her soul out at their misery

It all started with a relatively innocent series of events. Killer had challenged Dust to a round of Mario Kart 8 deluxe with a bet, Dust took it, and they spent some time playing when Horror joined as well. They had been playing for a few rounds before Ashes decided to let her presence be known... In her usual way

"Watcha doin?"

She had suddenly popped up from nowhere and jumpscared Horror by sneaking up on him while he was focused and asking him that directly to his ear. His natural reaction had been to pin her on the ground and spawn a few bones, but he got a hold of himself before butchering her head and let her go. Of course Ashes found it hilarious, but after her fit of giggles Killer explained what they were doing.

"Ohhhhh, nice. Imma join"

She sat down next to Dust, who scooted over a little, and grabbed a controller.

They spent a while choosing which of the battle modes they would play, eventually settling for Renegade roundup because Ashes was weirdly insistent on playing it for some reason. They put her in team with Horror and they called dibs to be Authorities. Dust was a little annoyed by that because despite the name, being an Authority was pretty cool, but he supposed it didn't matter since they'd swap later. Then the round started.

Immediately after, they found out she was better at the game than they predicted. She captured the other Renegades swiftly with a little help from Horror, the bots falling like flies in front of her ruthlessness, before setting off to finding and capturing Killer and Dust. She played with them like the cat and a couple of canaries, letting them go before capturing them again with a sadism Dust had seen her show only in battle. She let Killer free, but she never let him free Dust or the other Renegades and captured him only when there were only a few seconds left, leaving them staring at the screen bitterly. Then the next round came, the roles swapped, everyone got ready.

And they discovered the true reason why Ashes wanted to play this mode so much.

Throughout the entirety of the round, nor Killer or Dust managed to capture her a single time. She sprinted away right before they were going to catch her, pulling moves so incredible they didn't know how she pulled them off, teasing them by sprinting right in front of them and evading capture. Her and Horror won that round, and the round after, and all the other rounds, Ashes showing off incredible tricks just to mock them.

So at one point, they decided that she'd be playing against everyone else in the final round. They planned everything, building up an ambush, trying to guide her there and get her. They had her trapped, there were a few seconds left, Killer sprinted to get at her-

She used the feather she had in her inventory. And she jumped over him.

The game ended.

And now Dust was wondering where the heck did she learn how to play like that, but most of all he was fuming. It was clear she was just being a showoff for the entire duration of the game.

When he turned to confront her about it, she was gone

[einsatzzz]

Hey Ein❣️❣️✨✨🥺💖💜💞💞💕❤️‍🔥 THANK YOU FOR PLAYING WITH ME✨☁️⛅️

AND ALSO I SEE YOU READ MY PART 1 CRINGE X’D

THANK YOU❣️❣️���️‍🔥✨😭☀️⭐️

Anyway, I want to ask these to your cutie trio❣️❣️❣️✨👀

Has Kana ever made Hibari laugh?

Which canon character annoys Kurumi the most?

Who was someone Yui didn’t like at first but got along with later?

Thank you so much in advance❣️✨🥺🌺🌺🌺

Thank you for sending this for my cutie trio Brina! 🥹💜✨ Sorry it's late ueueue but here you go!

Who was someone Yui didn’t like at first but got along with later?

Yui didn't like Gokudera a lot when they first met. It's mainly because of their very different approaches to being the right-hand man for their respective bosses. As we all know lol Gokudera takes becoming and being the right-hand man very seriously (maybe too much? 😆).

Then there's Yui who's just chilling on the side, even asking his "boss" to help him carry big metal parts for his robot projects or even using his other "boss" as bait/shield to get away from Hibari (when he sometimes accidentally breaks school property). Gokudera often calls him out for it when he can, and it does grind on Yui's gears a bit.

Eventually (around Future Arc?), he does develop a neutral outlook to him. It was around that time that he kind of starts being a bit serious to adapt to the situation, just a little bit though hehe~

Which canon character annoys Kurumi the most?

For this one, I already answered it here! But yeah, it's Naito 😆

Has Kana ever made Hibari laugh?

If chuckles or snickers or sneers count, then yes, she does (unintentionally 🤣).

**A small fun fact is that, if you can get Fuuta to rank all of Oniyanagi's members by luck, Kana would end up at dead bottom. It's just not noticeable because she has the raw skills to sidestep it, but there will still be a few cases where her shit luck does get her.

During a chase, they end up jumping over roofs and it just happens that the roof Kana landed on is not on the sturdy side. She falls through it and when she looks above as she lies on the rubble, she sees Hibari trying to keep himself from snickering before immediately going in for an elbow drop (tonfa equipped). Kana evades it of course, but still this unlucky event + that smug look on his face kinda pisses her off lol

[chaotic-orphan]

I’m not the person you asked the question to, but for your question about Ambroise and Kit and gay subtext, I’d say that there’s certainly something there that I see why people would feel it, but personally I see more of a sibling relationship.

I think that it wouldn’t be weird if the story were to be an enemies to lovers, as the building blocks would be there, but it wouldn’t be weird for it to be an enemies to siblings. It depends on where you choose to take it next.

I see it more as siblings mainly because I’ve always read the story with a large age gap between the two. Ambroise feels significantly older than Kit, an so I never saw it as lovers because of that perspective. But, I don’t think that was ever explicitly mentioned, nor I don’t know if that was ever your intention. So it could’ve been a personal interpretation.

I hoped this helped!

P. S. I really love your writing so much. You’re honestly an incredible writer and your style is so beautiful. I always look forward to reading your work :)

YESSSS @mossy-tables SIBLING RELATIONSHIP👏👏👏 HARD AGREEEEEEEE XD

I see the potential for enemies to lovers too, like it is such a valid direction for the story, esp with that chapter where Ambrose is using his tie to strangle Kit, but my dumbass honestly saw that as the *most* sibling-esque kind of fight [now in hindsight after reading over it again, I see the enemies to lovers thing too] — but debasing Kit like a dog, making him crawl and then going frenzied and just looking at Kit fighting back like: “are you actually this clinically stupid?! Like you have objectively no chance of winning” but does that stop siblings fighting? Never. But I am delighted that some kind of sibling energy shined through a little in the story :D

I also think the age gap between Ambrose and Kit is significant, though I don’t think I ever said it — actually I think I made their age gap quite small which doesn’t make sense because Ambrose has his entire career all sorted out and so does his friends which would make him actually, closer to Jude’s age, around his thirties while Kit is in his early twenties and still trying to figure life out.

P.S. thank you so much for sharing your insights and your too-kind words, I think I may just explode into confetti right now 🎊 genuinely thank you🫶 also!! I amended the age gap bc of you to make it make more sense so thank you🫰

P.P.S Personal familial anecdote — not at all important to the discussion — below cut 😏😏😏 just my personal exp of sibling energy

Now, this could also just be my crazy family, but I feel like we’re normal enough, like when I was a kid I was very energetic and my brother(who was older by like 7 years) would literally just put his hand on my head and push me away and let me tire myself out, but then, what happens when I learned how to evade that move? He SAT on me and still I went to claw at him, bite him, punch him, kick him (this was all in the name of play-wrestling and who was the strongest sibling — which, in hindsight, we had a lot of competitions of who was the strongest, fastest, funniest, smartest, wittiest, favourite sibling contests when we were growing up ((out of sheer boredom (but I blame wii sports for the will to win imbedded within us against each other)) and there is a disbelief of “why the fuck are you still being hyper when you’re clearly not moving until I say you can, idiot?”

Long story short, Mam had to tell my older brother and sister to stop playing with me because they were the ones getting hurt😎 humble brag, don’t mind me, hold your applause

[totally-correct-genshin]

Found families in this game makes me crazy and the knights are a big found family.

Ill mainly talk about Jean, Kaeya, Lisa, Klee and Amber here because I didnt play enough to find Mika yet (but im reading his lines, hes just baby sibling) bc i got bored and my computer can't take it anymore and Eula and Albedo are more like an awkward cousin.

(i will talk less of Klee bc just- everyone knows how she is :sob:)

Im going to show a few lines i want to talk about then go crazy about it.

Ok so. Starting with Jean.

Lisa:

Kaeya:

Amber: (+ "Amber shut up abt Jean" bonus round)

Klee has way too many mentions of everyone sigh.

Anyways. THE RELATIONSHIPS.

You can see how everyone cares about Jean, everyone says she should rest and try to help her in the way they can.

For Kaeya, it's usually by helping her get shit together.

For Lisa, it's by inviting her for time offs and tea time.

For Amber it's a mix of both.

Klee is too young to understand how overworked is Jean, but she does know Jean can be tired.

Lisa and Jean are a special case, always together, Lisa is always inviting her for stuff, Jean is the first person Lisa sees in the morning, Jean even says Lisa makes her calm, they're a very married couple, god bless.

Kaeya and her have a fun friendship, she cares and worries for him and he does the same for her, it's mentioned in his story that sometimes she doesn't understands his methods, but she still considers him a good knight and trusts him entirely, as they were childhood friends, they probably have in each other a trust even higher than the usual.

Amber thinks extremely high of Jean, I'll explain parts of that a bit later, but you can see throufh everything, how Amber is always mentioning her, as if she wants to make Jean proud (eg: "Jean will be upset if she catches us lazying around like this") and cares about her opinion a lot. In turn, Jean seems proud of Amber and where is Amber going.

Klee seems to be a bit scared of Jean, but Jean still is extremely patient with her, despite getting her grounded for valid ass reasons, Jean cares and seems worried about Klee, and trusts her enough to help her fight sometimes, which is how Klee exploded a whole mountain.

With Lisa, things are a bit different but still fun.

Of course we have Jeanlisa being jeanlisa, Lisa always praises Jean and wants to help her, in turn, Jean has full confidence in Lisa's habilities, both magic and intelectual, so much that she lets Lisa in command whenever she's out.

Lisa and Kaeya are a funny pair, it's said that Lisa makes him do some stuff that should be her job, but they do respect each other. It doesn't have that much on this pair compared to the others.

Lisa seems to be a motherly figure of some sorts to Amber, who even mentions that Lisa tells her stories, and similar to Jean, Lisa also seems proud of Amber and wants to see where Amber is going.

Lisa and Klee are another motherly pair, where Lisa helps Klee with her explosives sometimes and Klee seems fond of Lisa.

Kaeya and his relationships are always fun because Kaeya doesn't really talk a lot about his life compared to sincerely everyone else.

As we know, Jean and Kaeya have the biggest respect and trust in each other, even when they butt heads because they're both stubborn as hell, Jean seems to respect his... Dubious methods, and he respects her decisions in return. They're the duo that if they go against you, you know you fucked up.

I did say as much as i coukd about Lisa and Kaeya already since Lisa didnt have a line about him that I could find.

Kaeya and Amber are a very... Weird pair. Amber is so wary of him, justifiable after the manga, but she still seems to trust him. She picks on him and he annoys her, but they still have a mutual respect. They're pretty much just siblings annoying each other. She says he doesn't trust her and treats her like a child, but in his voiceline about her you can see he does respect her habilities

Kaeya and Klee are also very fun. Kaeya seems to help Klee evade Jean, and help her do her things, in turn, Klee is always happy to be around him.

Amber is someone so fun to see her relationships due to unresolved abandonment issues.

She holds so much respect to Jean, and thats where i wanted to explain. In her profile it kept saying about the senior knights and how they took care of her, but she just wanted to show she is capable, so she was always wanting to go for stuff alone and during a fight, their vision towards her changed, to one of proudness once she helped with a monster.

I think at least two of those senior knights, are Jean and Lisa. Both said they saw her since they were younger and are proud of her now, and even Kaeya who "still treats her like a child" is aware of her habilities.

So they probably keep an eye on her, not out of not trusting her, just because they care. She's even part of Jean's morning routine excuse me im gnna cry.

Anyways Klee seems to treat Amber an older sibling, she loves the baron bunny and thinks Amber is very fun, Amber in turn also helps her escape from the wrath of Jean

I sincerely cant write much about Klee. Girlie is an open book 😭

[darkfictionjude]

About Taboo in IFs:

I think, as if often happens in most media, non sexual violence is incredibly common. There are some IFs were MC is experimented on, tortured, scarred, abused, etc. And there are IFs were MC is a murderer, a soldier, a villain, etc.

When it comes to sexual related taboos is where things get less and less present. Incest, which is probably the tamest one (after adultery and age gaps between adults), is rather rare. I often find it in IFs based on certain source material that includes it (mainly Arthuriana), and sometimes the MC is able to partake in incestual practices. The only RO I have seen as a proper romantic route of this kind, however, is just a cousin (although, technically, could count as a brother since the parents were identical twins). And even in that case, it could be justified with a fantasy/old timey setting focused on nobility. But nothing like ASOIAF where you have siblings marrying/ commiting adultery with each other (at least as an official romantic route, just as a one night stand), nor set in modern times (and there is fanfiction/original works of literature, as well as games, that do include siblings commiting incest in modern times).

In the case of Arthuriana, specifically, is rather impossible to avoid if Mordred is given any relevancy. And in Bastard of Camelot you play as Mordred, so incest (and rape) is unavoidable. Your character only exist because of it.

As for sexual abuse/rape, is never something I see as an option for the player as a thing they can do (understandably so), nor as something they can be a victim of. It may be suggested as something that could happen to MC, or that happened in the past (and in most cases is completely optional). And I understand this happening, since even the games set on dark fantasy settings try to evade this topics. And, as you said in your post, is most likely due to the level of identification between MC and player. But, I think there is also that aspect of IFs needing to be shared in social media like Tumblr and Reddit, where the inclusion of this topics is often met with disapproval or with the desire to exclude entirely from fiction.

But I think most artistic mediums with any level of interactivity would do their best to evade rape/sexual abuse. Not that it cannot be included, but is very unlikely you'll find anything that does it in the way you would be able to find in fanfiction. Simply due to that level of identification IFs have compared to the distance a fanfic has with the reader.

About the sharing on Twitter and Reddit that is true but there is a big space for those topics especially incest in fanfic like ao3. I have friends who are into those things and although they do clash with antis it’s becoming much less shocking to have incest and age gaps within fiction, humans adapt so quickly to what seems impossible at first huh? It’s kind of like how the term “daddy” in sexual sense was for so long seen as something incestuous but now has become kind of mainstream

Personally I would find it interesting to have an mc that might’ve experienced that type of abuse in their past but not have it there for drama or plot device but as an actual theme to be respected like for example if the mc is a sex worker. I also think identification with the mc depends on each individual story and author. Some authors are fine with self inserts, others like me are not and that’s why my mc does have a certain personality. So far none of my readers have ever complained to me to do this or that with the mc because they feel it’s right, there is a clear distance there. In that case I think it can be done. And ultimately each reader must play at their discretion, at their own personal boundaries

[xx-rabidpossum-xx]

"I've heard of cattle drives, but this is ridiculous"

Author’s Note: hey guys, first konrad fic was the worst thing I’ve ever willed into being so now I’m going to atone for my sin of that garbage heap. I’m hopefully going to post occasional short fics about Sif and being with the ultramarines/space marines(mainly as one-shots that can go with my main fic on AO3 if I want) It also give me an excuse to write her more and try to flesh out her character that I’ve been building since last year.

Wordcount: 500+

Cw: minute amount of blood, chase scene

Sif hated most things, small but very prevalent things. She hated how she can never hear her favorite songs on her CDs, she can never watch her favorite shows whenever she wanted, she can never have her favorite food since the ingredients were scarce and having to alchemize it would take hours to days to make. Sif hated that the only way she could enjoy the time before the 41st millennium was when she was sleeping, she could watch tv in her mind and listen to music, read books, and even play video games, but those moments were only in her dreams. She hated how she can’t truly rest like before, drinking coffee or even paint whenever she felt like it.

Sif hated most things, one of which was having to run. She thought of the things she hated as she ran through the corridors of the Ultramarine ship, the Resilient, evading serfs and ad mechs alike while a group of Ultramarines chased after her. It reminded her of a cattle drive, except it was 15 men trying to wrangle up 1 heifer and having no rope to lasso with.

Sif makes a sharp turn, her hooves scraping the metal floor as she sprints down the crowded hallway full of candles and servants. She could hear the yelling of the ultramarines telling her to ‘stop!’, which she recognized a few of the voices. Skidding to a halt at a dead end, the railings of which seemed to be purposeful. Sif looked down the railing seeing no bottom, looking up shows no ceiling but ever present and growing ceiling beams.

The sound of ceramite pounding on iron grows closer, Sif looks over the railing again, thinking of what to do. “Sif!” Titus yells, she looks back and without thinking starts to climb over the railing. A few other ultramarines make a grab at her, some reaching for her arms and robes. Before they could even get a grip on her, she jumped off the railing, falling down into the ship. The ultramarines hold still with their hands still outstretched, seeing Sif get shrouded in darkness. “Sir…can she survive a fall?” asks one of the younger battle brothers. Titus only holds his breath, waiting for something. The sound of metal groaning, machinery working and candles flickering was deafening.

A whoosh of air hits their ears, it was faint but noticeable amongst the white noise of the battle barge. “Did you hear that?” asks another ultramarine, pulling his hand away from the end of the metal abyss. Wing beats, the sound of wings flapping, Titus thought. It was then a gush of air hit the squad's faces as Sif flies up past them, she was heading for the ceiling.

Titus goes to the railing and looks up to see white and grey feathered wings upon Sif’s back, hints of blood on the edge of the feathers. Sif disappears within the ceiling, perching upon a high beam, where she catches her breath.

“Fuck, that was so fucking hard to do.” Her back muscles ache from the stress of having to create extra bone, muscle, tendons, and tissue with the little calories she had after running. “At least that can’t get me up here.” she says out loud, leaning against a support vertical of the one she is resting on. Her wings fold and press close to her back, having to form quickly and shed new feathers in a matter of seconds made her wish she had eaten more before coming aboard the Resilient.