#anyway disregard this im avoiding work

[superoscars]

hawaiian redeyes

[snekdood]

man i wish i did have all this privilege everyone acts like I have for being a trans guy, my life would be way more chill. I wouldnt hafta worry about shit really

[motherforthefamicom]

random assortment of drawings i might as well post

[qwimchii]

Could I request a fanfic where reader has an aversion of men (due to trauma) and her coping mechanism is to regard men as an "it" so she can get through day to day. When she's assigned to work alongside Task Force 141, she tends to get the most along with Ghost because it's easier to talk to him due to his mask and also simply because he's not very chatty and touchy. And through her time working alongside him, she falls in love?

If requests are closed please disregard this! I love your writing, thank you!

𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘴 (pt 1) — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.3k

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, (𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭) 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘸𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘯𝘯𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢 & 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺(𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰), 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(

note: im so sorry for taking so long on this anon!!!! but i loved the idea so much that i ended up making this a multipart series in honor of friday oct 13 & halloween.... 🤭 also i know that you requested her to be on the 141 task force but i ended up amending that a bit so i hope that's alright?? anyways enjoy lovies!

you walked down the sidewalk, a pool of cold sweat collecting at your back. it was freezing outside—the midst of a fall unfurling across the landscape, orange leaves crunching underfoot as you approached the church looming in the distance. the glare of a car’s lights illuminated the white structure as it passed.

we’re adding a new person to the support group, Kate had texted into the groupchat a few hours before the meeting. Sarah had added a bunch of flowery heart emojis after it, saying how excited she would be to meet the new person.

the dread continued to drip down your back in a sweat.

in response, you had texted back a flat: why?

you knew what you were doing was considered plain mean. 

you checked your phone again, the glare of it burning your eyes in the darkness. still no response to your text—no doubt purposeful on Kate’s part.

but this support group had become…

you strode through the church parking lot, shivering, and walked up a set of concrete steps, swinging the heavy, brass knuckled entrance open.

…special to you.

as you entered the familiar chapel, the old musk of the building a comforting scent now, you adjusted to the dim, warm light dispersed overhead before moving towards the basement steps.

your aversion of men wasn’t foreign to your closest friends and family. you knew it was a nuisance to them, but your past betrayed you, and sometimes, on the darkest nights like this, you could feel the tendrils of your trauma clutching at you.

you used to go to church with your father too. now, you would avoid any church like the plague, save for this one.

you made your way down the steps to the basement—the musk of mold and age drifting through the place. 

the girls in your support group had become much more than just a kind word. they were your friends. they accepted your strange quirks without so much as the bat of an eye.

adding a newcomer… complicated things. things like closing yourself off again, getting jittery and nervous every time you even spoke in front of the group, overwhelming you to the point of quitting entirely.

it had happened three times already but Kate had coaxed you back every time someone new joined. eventually, you had come to accept each of them. but it was no less difficult.

passing through the long, carpeted hallway, miscellaneous boxes here and there, you neared a familiar wooden double-door.

Kate rounded the corner on the far side of the hallway and gave you an easy, but tired, smile. she was holding some papers as she strode up to you.

“hey honey,” she called, patting your cheek gently in greeting when she neared you. “you’re early.”

you shrugged. “i’m always early.” 

to these meetings at least, you didn’t voice, you wouldn’t miss them for the world.

Kate swallowed, then nodded, brushing back the strands of blonde wisps that fell into her eyes. “i know.”

you cocked your brow. she was acting strange—avoiding your eyes, and swallowing up words she wasn’t saying.

“Kate,” you said, tongue feeling heavy, “what’s this new person thing about?”

she bit her lip, finally meeting your eyes. “apparently, the newcomer has a habit of being early too.”

your brows rose. “yeah? let me meet them—”

your hand itched towards the knob of the door, but Kate stepped in front of you, blocking your way to the entrance.

your eyes were narrowed now. shifting on your feet, you tried to doge the petite woman, but she swatted at you, side stepping so that her back was flush with the door now. 

“what are you doing?” you asked with an amused huff, bewildered by her strange behavior. 

“is the newcomer a bit of an oddball?” you offered, your brow furrowing when she tilted her head.

“not exactly.”

you nodded slowly, trying your absolute best to appear optimistic with an indifferent shrug. “s’fine to me. we’re all a bit strange.”

definitely strange, that voice in you sang. you tried not to feel offended by your own mind.

Kate’s head dropped, breathing out a long and heavy sigh, before her blue eyes were on yours again. “just… don’t run away.”

“she can’t be that bad can she?” you asked with a laugh, a new muddled swirl of something dark and alarming pooling in your stomach.

Kate shrugged and that made you really nervous. she swung the heavy door open and stepped inside, disappearing from sight into the meeting room.

you stood there for a good moment, fumbling with your hands before, and you made it halfway through the doorway before— 

you saw a man.

you stopped short. he was huge—muscular, no doubt, under several layers of black attire, body dwarfing the folding chair he was sitting on. half of his face was shrouded by a black surgical mask, hood drawn up, the cords of his earbuds trailing into the pocket of his black sweatshirt where his hands were shoved into.

immediately, you slammed the door shut.

turning on your heel and making your way back down the hall, you only hurried when you heard the door fling open behind you and quick footsteps following that.

“wait!” Kate called, and you covered your hands with your ears.

apparently, Kate was faster than you, because her hand was grabbing a fistful of your clothes before you knew it, and you reeled on her, seething, “i’m not going in there.”

apparently Kate was stronger than you, too, because she started half-dragging you back down the hallway and hissing through gritted teeth, “like hell you have a choice!”

“no—don’t want to—!”

by the time she had dragged you all the way back down the hallway, your shoes desperately scrambling against the carpet, panting with exertion, you had accepted defeat.

she still loosely clutched at the collar of your shirt, for fear that you may run again, and you swatted her hand away, fixing the wrinkles of your clothes as she brushed back her hair with a deep scowl and closed eyes.

when she gave you a side long look full of bitterness, your face scrunched, sending her the nastiest expression you could muster, hands balled into fists.

she completely ignored you, jerking her head in the direction of the open doors. “go.”

it wasn’t a request.

you bit down on your tongue hard, and with the most dramatic sigh you could muster, you sulked into the room, completely ignoring the man sitting within a circle of chairs.

Kate tutted behind you, half-pushing you out of the way to the desks shoved into the corner of the room. you trailed after her, watching her set down the now crumpled papers, smooth them out, stuff them into cardboard boxes, and then reorganize the boxes. 

you searched for the words.

“you didn’t tell me that person was…” 

a man.

you looked back over to the hulking man leaning back in the rickety, tin folding chair. it creaked under his weight, and he cocked his head, eyes shut like he was sleeping. you didn’t really care if he heard you or not.

rather immaturely, you rephrased the sentence. “you didn’t tell me it was—”

Kate shot you a look that immediately shut you up. “anyone can come to our support groups, missy. you know that.”

you rolled your eyes. you knew that. but still.

“but…” you couldn’t find the words to say.

she sighed out, moving the box of papers to an adjacent desk. “and i thought this would be a good thing,” she grumbled. 

your eyes snapped to her the back of her blonde head, a keen suspicion brewing in your throat. “good thing?”

she turned back to you, hand on her hip. “yeah. a good thing.”

it was a deadpan.

“honey, you’ve been in this group the longest, and we’ve been struggling with this i hate men thing since the beginning.”

you flinched. ouch.

she was right but that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with, and luckily for you, you were stubborn as hell.

“so?” you said with a shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans.

“see?” she said, gesturing to your stiff posture, “you’re getting defensive.”

you blinked. “no i’m not.”

she let out a laugh but it was mirthless—more of a frustrated huff. “since you’ve been here the longest, i’m gonna need you to do something for me, honey.”

your voice was strained. “do what?”

she pointed to the man, whose eyes were still closed, and hissed at you in a half-whisper, “you’re going to talk to him first, introduce yourself, get his name and occupation, and then you’re gonna introduce him to the rest of the group yourself.”

your skin crawled with disgust at the idea. Kate always did introductions. not you.

you stepped forward, opening your mouth to protest but—

she held up a hand in your face and skirted around you. “no. i don’t care what you have to say. this is how we improve, honey.”

you know that she wanted to say you.

you stood stock still behind the desk, seething, clenching and unclenching your fists as you heard Kate disappear from the room. leaving you alone with that thing.

turning on your heel, you jolted when the man’s gaze was already on you, half-lidded and piercing. his eyes had a dark, grayish film to them—brown with a murky depth.

it took everything in you not to snap at him to look away.

sighing out with exasperation, you rolled your shoulders and neck, and took stiff strides towards him. you hesitated mid-stride when he lazily looked away, seeming like he was just going to try and ignore you. that irked you even more.

you stood right in front of him so he couldn’t look anywhere else. you saw the furrow of his brow, the snap of his eyes up to yours in a hard glare, and felt a pleasant curl of satisfaction soothe you.

“hi,” you said, voice rough, as you shoved your hands back into your pockets.

he shifted in his chair, tilting his head back at you, taking you in fully. you wanted to slap that look off his face. 

arrogant asshole.

his accent was thick and grating. “hi.”

after a long moment of tense silence, his eyes narrowed. “you got a name?”

you gave him a sweet smile. “nope. yours?”

his brows rose slightly, something playful flashing in his dark eyes.

you cringed. was he smiling? 

that was not your intent.

“Simon Riley,” he said curt, “but i prefer Ghost.”

you ignored him, scratching at your neck, ready to get this over with. “right, Simon, welcome to the support group. i guess.”

he stared at you. “thanks.”

suddenly, his gaze felt too heavy and awkward on you. something dark and miry drenched your heart, tugging it down with a weight. it felt unfamiliar and strange. something bordering on regret or guilt.

fumbling with your hands, you stepped back and found a chair on the very opposite side of the circle. the very opposite side.

his eyes were still locked onto you, and you crossed your arms, looking anywhere but him, the carpeted floor, the peeling posters plastered with religious slogans on the wall, Kate’s desk, the entrance of the room where Sarah and Maya stepped in. 

seeing them was like a release, and that ugly thing weighing down your heart was lifted. Sarah gave you a beaming smile, waving enthusiastically with a loud greeting. Maya trailed behind, giving you a soft, shy smile.

both of them edged around Simon and flanked your sides in the seats.

you watched her glance to Simon, eyes wide, then looking back at you. there was something like apprehension in her face.

she mouthed, is this the new person?

you glanced to him. he was barely registering the other two girls in the room, eyes untrained and looking somewhere else, black boots crossing over each other.

with a bitter feeling, you nodded at Sarah and she clutched at her mouth, sharing a look with Maya who was perfectly undisturbed by the newcomer’s presence.

Sarah, being Sarah, sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, waving a hand to get Simon’s attention.

“hi,” she called with a soft voice, smiling big. “i’m Sarah.”

Simon dipped his head politely. “nice to meet you.”

you scowled. where were his manners before? 

though, you thought meekly, you hadn’t really showed your best manners either.

sighing out, you watched Sarah and Maya launch into a conversation with him that you refused to join, withering into your chair. all his responses were polite, curt, and bordering on uninterested.

“what are you listening to?” Maya asked in that soft angelic tone of hers, and Simon took out his earbuds.

“smashing pumpkins.”

Sarah gasped, gesturing to your face with a wild hand that almost knocked against your chin. “that’s her favorite band!”

Simon’s gaze snapped to you, and you felt like puking. 

fumbling for words, you protested in a tone too strong. “no it’s not.”

Sarah gave you a confused look. “but we went to their concert last summer remember? in las vegas?”

oh you remembered. you specifically remembered because their band was getting old and their farewell tour felt like a looming threat in the near future. you remembered because you wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

but you couldn’t say that so instead you said, “no, my favorite band is… is…”

you glanced at Maya’s curious expression. 

“taylor swift,” you shot out.

you grimaced. that’s not even a band.

Maya cocked her head. “no, taylor swift is my favorite singer.” she gave you a knowing look. “and you love the smashing pumpkins.”

she turned to Simon. “she even has posters in her room.”

you groaned out, slumping further down into your chair and wanting to disintegrate on the spot as Maya continued to talk about your avid love for smashing pumpkins. but Simon’s gaze was pinned on you. it didn’t even look like he was listening.

you pretended you were invisible for the rest of the conversation until the rest of the girls had trickled into the room, watching with a curling disgust at the sight of them fawning over Simon and his alluring presence. he seemed indifferent enough to their attention.

not like you cared. 

the circle slowly filled till Kate took the last spot.

she had a stack of papers on her lap, smoothing over them with that tight-lipped smile of hers as she started the meeting.

her words were flying through your ears. words you didn’t really want to hear as you tugged on the hem of your hoodie, slumped over in your chair.

you didn’t hear her calling your name either.

Sarah knocked her foot against yours and you shot up in your seat, flushing when you noticed everyone’s attention on you.

your eyes darted around the room, feeling hyper aware of Simon’s blank, bored stare sweeping down your body.

“hi,” Kate said in a sweet tone, leaned forward in her seat, though her face was laced through and through with that burning exasperation that you were too familiar with.

“since you were the first to acquaint yourself with our guest,” she said, gesturing with a polite hand to that big masked thing on a chair, “we would love for you to introduce the new member to us.”

shifting to sit further up in your chair, you swallowed, voice falling flat and dead. “sure. this is Simon. he’s uhh…”

you took him in and all his hulking demeanor. “an accountant.”

his eyes flashed with that same look as before—something playful that really pissed you off.

Sarah snorted and Kate just smiled, though it was wholly devoid of warmth, and you resisted shivering. “right. i’ll do it then.”

she looked around the circle slowly. “this is Simon Riley. he’s in the military. i met him a couple years back.”

your eyes snapped to Kate’s, a whole new sense of betrayal swelling in your chest. she had already known him and wanted you to introduce him anyway?

“traitor,” you grumbled under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

the girls, in a chorus, sang out a hi Simon, a couple of them giggling, poking at each other. you noticed Maya blushing beside you and rolled your eyes.

was he really that attractive?

he just nodded, with a very low, “hello,” and sat up properly, drawing back his hood.

there was a light tussle of blonde hair on his head, shaved down at the sides and hanging down his forehead.

you bit your tongue, looking away. maybe he was.

“welcome Simon,” Kate said with a gentle smile, “i’m glad you decided to come.”

there was something knowing in her gaze when Simon’s eyes darted to hers that had a new curiosity perk up in you.

you watched the whole interaction with narrowed eyes.

just how well did they know each other?

as Kate dished out the upcoming schedule for the group, your gaze burned into his face. his eyes, trained on Kate, made you jolt when they flicked to you.

he slowly tilted his head, eyes narrowing a smidge. you frowned deeply, and in a stubborn haze, met his piercing gaze with one of equal stature. after a long moment, he huffed, a weird breathy sound, eyes flashing again, and looked away, and the moment you shared was gone.

you shifted in your seat, blinking, feeling strange and light.

what the hell was that?

you looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed. when you were sure no one had, you scolded yourself. 

no fraternizing with the enemy, you chided, shifting your attention back to Kate who was listing off the predetermined pairs for the fall session. Kate always claimed that she pulled the pair choices out of a hat. the fact that you had never been paired with Maya or Sarah for a single season left you questioning that.

besides that, many of the sessions required getting one-on-one quality time with other group members through predetermined partners and different activities, even outside of group meetings. the fall session was always the busiest, preparing for upcoming events with weekly meetings.

it was something unique to your group which you wholly appreciated.

your gaze flitted to Simon.

except for when there’s newcomers.

“finally, you,” Kate nodded her head to you with a bitter tone, which made you wince, although you knew guessed you deserved it, “and Simon.”

what?

“what?” you croaked, and you visibly saw the girls in the room shift with discomfort, gazes avoiding you.

they had seen your immature outbursts before about newcomers. you were not afraid to show them again.

Kate gave you a very nasty sidelong look. “don’t start.”

you bit your tongue so hard you think it almost bled.

Maya’s hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, looking a bit crestfallen at the conclusion designated pairs, and in the sweetest tone you could muster, you offered, “what about Maya?”

her head whipped to you, jaw dropping open and a flush on her cheeks. you sent her a weak, apologetic look, sneaking a hand over to hers but she just smacked it away.

Simon only laxed back into his chair, blinking slowly like he was about to fall asleep, gaze flitting lazily between you and the bashful girl beside you. when his eyes lingered on her, you truely, utterly, wished with every fiber of your being that Simon had been paired with Maya instead.

Kate just ignored you, sorting through papers to find the next one that she read aloud. more on the upcoming fall activities that you would be helping the church with.

usually you’d be ecstatic.

but when your gaze fell on Simon, lazy, hulking, and donned in black, he cocked his head at you, eyes swirling. then, he put his earbuds back in, eyes sliding shut.

you jerked your hood up over your head and sulked.

this was going to be the worst few weeks yet.

okayyyy soooo i wanted to make these chapters shorter and ive already prepared quite a few so i'll be posting every 1-2 days for this series leading up to halloween!!!! im so excited 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first silly part <3 more silly parts to come!

taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Pretty suggestive ask but-

What do you think Killer's kinks would be generally? Would he like being in control, letting others take control, just in general.

(yes I'm ashamed of myself for sending this.)

Oh im probably the wrong person to ask about kinks 💀. I am an asexual and a virgin and I intend to be for life. I’m often indifferent to these types of things.

Anyway, a lot of these are mostly gonna vary on interpretation of killer and the like. But as I’ve stated many times, I see Killer as somewhere on the ace spec too, but one can be asexual and kinky—it’s just that his kinks aren’t likely to have much of a sexual thing behind it. (Not to say that they can’t of course.)

I think he’d focus a lot on pain, control, and power dynamics. He’d probably try anything at least once, at least Stage 2 would. I don’t believe he’d like hurting others or being hurt in any capacity while in Stage 1, or higher Stages.

Killer will not interpret it as something to be enjoyed or something that’s supposed to be done for pleasure, he’ll just see it as someone is hurting him in those Stages, and Stages 3-4 are unlikely to know why. And will probably lash out, resulting in someone being killed or hurt.

As for Stage 2. I’ve stated before that I don’t really see Killer as someone who has experience with intimacy, at least not in any way that’s meant to be genuine, and more often than not he avoids it. Not often really interested in it, and often distrustful when presented with it.

He may even just dismiss ever needing or wanting something like that entirely. His whole thing is believing he’s emotionless; he will reject or rationalize away anything that contradicts it.

Hurting people makes him feel strong and in control and enjoys that, being hurt feels comfortable and familiar, and if he can provoke someone into hurting him, not only does it feel good, but it proves him right that this is how things work.

Killer’s approach to things isn’t healthy, is very much tainted by his trauma and is very much him externalizing everything. He himself probably doesn’t view his “freaky” ways as anything kinky, it’s just normal. It’s what he learned to enjoy, this extreme version of it at least.

Which is to say I think being introduced to BDSM with a healthy partner or partners he trusts and respects, and respect him in return, would do him a lotta good. Killer does not maintain many boundaries of his own, and he often disregards other’s boundaries without much care at all. He even refers to his treatment of Swap as ‘fun’ and ‘playing.’

Engaging in Killer’s form of “kink” could very likely end with someone permanently injured or dead or traumatized. Which is normal for him. He is a very sadistic and masochistic person, in rather extreme ways. Like, I’m talking literally ripping him limb from limb type of masochistic.

And he is rather confused and frustrated when someone doesn’t hurt him, and he will likely attempt to provoke someone into doing so. Because it challenges his beliefs in ways he doesn’t like.

Killer is very much not practicing Safe, Sane, and Consensual, I don’t think. Which is why he’d need to be introduced to actual BDSM slowly and carefully, and he’d likely need to be shown through example—allow him time to observe.

Killer doesn’t trust others much at all. Perhaps the only way he knows how to show ultimate trust is willingly giving up control, completely. But it’s not submission in the way those who practice SSC BDSM would understand it—it’s just how he thinks the world works.

Control or be controlled. And if he’s not in control or more powerful, and he doesn’t want to leave or attempt to usurp someone (such as Color), perhaps he will instinctively submit—at least on the surface. He will maintain sliver of control by hiding parts of himself and manipulation.

If trust is there, however, and respect—if he believes this powerful person isn’t going to hurt him or use him, such as with Color—perhaps now submission is a form of loyalty, and maybe he even views this as protection. By giving control to Color, he is being protected. Color should know what’s good for him, because Color is a good person, and he isn’t. Everyone says not to trust him, and he can’t trust him, but he trusts Color.

He may attempt to seek punishment if he does something he thinks would warrant it. If only because it’s familiar, and maybe now if it’s Color giving the punishment, he can trust it’s because Color cares. (Color’s gonna have a hard time helping Killer unlearn this stuff.)

Perhaps this is where the whole “vore,” thing comes in. Or more specifically, the soul vore stuff. Craving intimacy and control and power and safety, and feeling broken and missing pieces and shattered. The idea of becoming one with someone who is whole and powerful, who cares about you, who wants to protect you and take care of you. Especially if doing so would mean making Color more powerful and therefore keeping him safe. The whole idea of “together forever.”

So I do think he could very kinky, sexual or not, but he needs to be taught the actual difference between abuse and bdsm/kink. He needs to be shown that he can receive and enjoy pain when he wants and to know it’ll stop when he wants.

He needs to realize he can practice with submission without being a 100%, all or nothing thing—that he still has power in submission too. And he needs to realize the difference between pleasure, safe pain and what’s just sadistic torture.

(This isn’t to get into all the fear and trauma responses and memories it’ll all likely drudge up in Stage 1, 3, 4, even if it’s important to satisfy st2’s needs while unlearning the mindsets behind them.)

He and Color already have a head start in the whole thing, given that the entire reason why Color’s approach worked, whereas Swap and Dream’s didn’t, was that Color gave him a choice. Color kept consistently giving Killer choices, and respected whichever ones he made. Killer can learn how to do respect others, and himself, how to advocate for himself—by following Color’s consistent example.

Which is all to say, that I think that if Killer ever got into BDSM—likely to explore and satisfy his needs for control and pain in a controlled and safe environment—I think he’d explore many kinks, and discover them for himself and perhaps alongside any partner(s).

And now it becomes less from a place of re-enacting trauma and abuse that have become normalized to him, and more about unlearning that and finding what he enjoys. And fostering a sense of trust and intimacy alongside a clearer sense of boundaries and consent and healthy relationships.

But of course everyone can feel free to add on with what kinks ya’ll think he’d specifically be in.

{ @unamzi }

[wszczebrzyszynie]

(sorry if I’m asking too many questions I just thought of this other one) out of everyone in the manor and everyone who visits, who does Mikita like best and hate or just dislike the most, and why?

Sorry for marinating this ask for a while. Geniuely forgot about it but its a pretty good one. This will be long so im putting it under the read more thing

Mikita is unpleasant and dead set on making people dislike him in a complex self sabotage and defence mechanism way, so its safe to say no one really likes him and he doesnt like anyone either. I guess the one person he hates most would be Trycz, since shes... a bit too similar to him, i suppose. Both age wise (mikita hates his peers; he knows very well how to act around adults and doesnt take children seriously enough to care about them, but with teenagers he doesnt have the clear "hierarchy barrier" (other than class maybe, but it doesnt really work that way at the manor... which is why ryba was so set on befriending him in the first place) to save him in conversations - he doesnt feel like he belongs with his peers and doesnt understand them, and isnt willing to change that, putting him in very awkward situations) and personality wise. He doesnt really acknowledge it, but he sees Trycz as what he was taught to see as a rival; someone to fight with for attention and praise to prove himself worthy to the adults around him (which i guess means he acknowledges Trycz is insanely smart, so at least theres... that), except he knows hes loosing. He believes she is a better version of him, with an amazing for that time period support system (+ Mikas very specific relationship with gender plays a role here too. He tends to disregard men and be more agreeable with (especially older) women. Its a consequence of his deeply rooted mother issues and the general way he was raised; he just respects girls more and since Trycz is a girl he doesnt feel like picking fights with her, as he often does with Przemek). Her presence reminds Mikita that hes a failure and causes him to undo most of the progress hes made so far. In a story sense, Trycz is here to paralell Mikita (especially the pre-manor Mikita) to test his character growth, and its a test that he fails in the typical sense (wouldnt really call that a failure, as he still did all that progress and even if he "relapses" in a way hes still in a better position that he was at the beginning. But it is a setback). All of these feelings are completly one sided, Trycz is dealing with something entirely different at the same time and doesnt really care about Mika 👍

As for his favourite visitor its Helen and Artur, probably. Theyre both artists, way older than him and generally very nice... Artur doesnt really talk to anyone other than his closest family much and Helen doesnt speak any of the languages used at the manor, but they communicate in very rusty simple french if needed. There isnt much to it Mikita just doesnt mind their presence whatsoever and is very good at avoiding their son. This reminds me i have a very cool little short comic about Artur and Mikita to finish

Anyways never apologize for asking stuff, especially not about my ocs. As you can see i am not normal about them. That being said i am not proofreading any of that

[paalove]

just reread nothing to lose and i am once again thinking about "pran doesn’t listen to his parents about much, right?" pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... pran doesn't listen to his parents about much... AHHHHH!!!

also thinking about how the week I finished bad buddy I was like PRAN ELLA ENCHANTED AU and just rotating this in my mind along with that concept. idk if you have read ella enchanted but as a possible prompt— a bad buddy, pran cursed with obedience! au

HEY. YOU SENT THIS MONTHS AGO AND I'VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT WEEKLY SINCE. 🥰

first: thank you ily, im glad you like that tiny little au it's one of my favourite pocket-universes <3

second: main fic coming in... hopefully the next couple of weeks? meanwhile here is a scattered little multi-pov intro to the fic i HAVE been calling "ella enpranted" xoxo

...

“Listen to me, Pran,” his mother says.

He does, because she’s his mother, and he does because he has to.

Concern etched into the lines of her face, deep deep worry and upset in her eyes, she orders him, “Stay away from that boy as much as you can,” and Pran will, because he has to.

As much as he can.

…

It’s hard to track him down this week – sometimes Pran gets skittish – but Pat finds him on Wednesday! It’s just been art, and Pat is taking the not-allowed-but-whatever shortcut that goes behind and around the weird little separate building that’s been used for art since they switched where all the languages rooms are, and there-

“Pran!” he calls, running over.

As he does, Pran’s head jerks up and he looks over and his eyes go wide, face startled, but he doesn’t look mad so Pat knows he’s only stashing his books away because he likes an escape route, he’s not mad at Pat.

So, Pat grabs the folder furthest from Pran and picks it up, flipping through and seeing a bunch of physics notes in Pran’s neat handwriting and smooth, black ink, because Pran never seems to have a pen go dry in the middle of writing anything, it’s all so even and careful.

Pran reaches out for it, then his hand freezes like an inch away from it and he says, “Pat, give that back.”

“No,” Pat says, but he’s smiling at Pran and Pran smiles back.

Shaking his head and turning – saying with his shoulders I’m not waiting for you and saying with the half smile but you can follow me if you want, I guess, it’s whatever – Pran says, “I need the folder back at some point.”

“I’ll give it back later,” Pat agrees.

Pran runs off when he doesn’t have something hostage, but he’s never mad about Pat taking his stuff. It’s just a game they play.

…

“Has someone told you to do something you don’t want to?”

She’s genuinely concerned, he knows that.

But she hasn’t ordered him to be honest, so he’s got enough leeway to not say you, Mae, it’s always you, because that would hurt her feelings and it wouldn’t change anything anyway, and Pran instead says, “The teacher assigned us both to be in the band,” and lets her remember all that trial and error, years ago, when they had to figure out how the orders worked.

Pran’s parents know that his too-powerful, too-flighty aunt’s gift was for them, so their orders normally take precedence over anyone else’s; they also know that their later orders take precedence over earlier ones, unless they specifically build something in, like telling him to disregard later ones that contradict the one they’re making right now. This pause is, he’s sure, letting his mother remember telling him to always consider teachers’ orders to outweigh all but a select few of her own.

Of course, most of what Pran’s figured out, he hasn’t told them.

Or even written down.

It’s safer to keep what he knows to himself.

His mother closes her eyes, nods, and says, “I suppose it couldn’t be avoided at that school.”

Pran wishes he had any way of stopping what comes next.

…

Dissaya’s son is honest, kind, and good.

Those are things she knows about him, things that she needs to protect and nourish and help to grow, and things that can’t be poisoned in him the way they were in her. She doesn’t like making him sad, dragging him away from his friends, but Pran is so vulnerable.

Moreso because of the gift.

It made her heart freeze in her chest the first time she saw him on the playground, some smaller child cheering him on, Higher! Higher, and the face of frozen fear on Pran’s face not even slightly getting in the way of how high he was swinging-

She still shudders to think of it.

Her sister-in-law was unrepentant when she called. Of course a gift of obedience doesn’t stop at the walls of their household, she’d laughed, but it’s always going to be stronger for family, isn’t that nice?

It’s not in her nature to yell, really, especially not at her husband’s beloved little sister, but she made an exception that day.

And then she had started to plan.

The idea that her careful planning and careful instructions to Pran haven’t been enough, haven’t kept him safe…

She’s never a coward except when it comes to Pran.

Dissaya sends him away.

…

It’s not written down, not anywhere, but Pran has a list of things he knows to be true about his gift.

His parents’ gift.

If his parents tell him, directly, to do something, he can’t help but do it. There’s no resisting directly, from the second he hears the order he begins to carry it out.

Physically impossible orders are an absolute exception – they arrive at Pran’s ears like normal, non-magical words, just the way a normal sentence works for anyone else on earth. He won’t try to fly if someone tells him to.

If anyone outside his family tells him directly to do something possible, it depends on what his parents have said first, but normally… he has to do it.

Pat telling him to race counts.

Pat whining at him to stop ignoring him also counts.

Pran has some leeway in deciding what counts.

In fact, Pran decides what an order means. He can know his parents meant one thing, but if the actual words they used mean something else… Pran can pick, kind of. Only kind of. He’s been experimenting with those limits for years.

The final part of it, the part that he’s known from the start and can never let himself forget or forgive, is the part that’s least useful and most essential.

8. It’s not a gift.

Because Pran has those old orders – keep yourself safe, don’t hurt others, and always prioritise teachers over other kids – and they make something like a shield, but one that it hurts to hold. The order to ignore other people’s orders no matter what never, never worked.

They must be physically impossible. Or something like that.

[bungiri]

ask and you shall receive....

ANYWAYS question for your oc wren uhh just give me any facts abt her, i mean anything, as much as you can actually (i will eat it all up)

(you can probably guess who i am, maybe not, who knows 😜)

HELLO 👁️ i think i know who u are AND THANK U FOR ASKING 🫂

omg idk where to start with her cuz i've been brainstorming a whole backstory (the wreniverse if u will) and her relationships w everyone IT'S BEEN FUN

before i start w some random facts, here's a doodle of her cuz i felt like i needed to draw her idk

ANYWAY, my rambling is under the cut RAHHH ‼️

— she is a half witch on her bio mother's side ! it's assumed that her bio father is a human that her mom had a summer fling with while traveling

— she's always been able to use magic ever since she was a little girl, but has very little control over it due to not having anyone to learn from + just not being able to practice it whilst growing up in the city

— however, she Did encounter a woman who claimed she was a fellow witch and was given a spellbook from her. she doesn't understand most of the spells inside though and hasn't attempted any besides the very basics

— her natural hair color is dark brown, but she uses her magic to change it to orange (á la that one scene in the craft)

— wren was adopted at 4 years old by two Very Loving and overprotective dads. she also has a brother who has a career as a well known street artist in the city

— she has reason to believe that she's related to mr. qi in one way or another DON'T LAUGH...DON'T LAUGH...SHE TAKES IT VERY SERIOUSLY (he neither confirms or denies it and his extreme vagueness frustrates her)

— before moving to pelican town, she used to work at McJoja (u can't tell me joja wouldn't have a fast food chain like...) but was fired due to a conflict with a customer and the manager was rly just fed up with her antics in general

— when she moved to the town, wren avoided haley and alex for a good week because she recognized them from high school. she was on the cheerleading team with haley, they weren't too close in hs, and alex was obv a popular gridball player

— her farm's name is deergrave farm and it's believed to be haunted. although she doesn't believe it herself, she likes to use its reputation to entertain the kids with spooky stories or creep abigail, sam, and sebastian out

— she has a big fat crush on lance who either returns or rejects her feelings depending on which route i take her story in 🤔 if she's rejected, they stay very good friends and something else happens with someone else i'm Sure u can guess who

— another route is the Vanilla route where stardew expanded is disregarded and in that route she ends up with haley !

— even though she adores jas, vincent, and kids in general, wren doesn't want any of her own. she's very adventurous and a kid requires a lot of attention that she feels she won't be able to provide. she's more than content with her dog and krobus who she eventually gets to come live with her as her roomie

THIS WAS A LOT IM SORRY i just love her already‼️

[doomsdayradio]

i have npd or something like it but i really have trouble with the notion that narcissism is something that you can like, normalize in the way some other mental health things can be normalized or accepted. i just dont understand the thinking behind trying to get people to be more accepting of npd when the main symptom of it is treating other people badly. it feels pretty natural to avoid or dislike people you know have been diagnosed with a thought disorder that, intrinsically by definition, means you tend to treat other people with disregard or worse. i wouldnt expect anyone i told about my diagnosis to stick with me.

THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE. I COULDN'T EVEN KEEP MY SEMI-FORMAL MANNER OF SPEECH THE ENTIRE TIME. ANON IM WARNING YOU AHEAD OF TIME I AM NOT NICE IN THIS RESPONSE <3 IM SICK OF ABLEISM

the notion that someone having NPD instantly means they're going to treat others poorly by default is in and of itself ableist. that is an ableist stereotype. i literally know people with NPD who are explicitly nice and helpful on purpose because they want people to like them and think highly of them. treating others poorly is not "the main symptom" of NPD, at best the "main symptom" or core of NPD seems to be self-esteem dysregulation.

anyways read this post it basically explains in detail what i don't have the time or energy to type out.

btw, if you have NPD or something similar and your personal experience has been that you treated others poorly. erm. L? i don't know why you're projecting that on every single other person with NPD💀 your experience isn't universal at all?? the most helpful and kind person i know has NPD????? like yes it's true people with NPD usually struggle with relationships but struggling isnt automatically equivalent to being toxic or abusive nor is that struggle exclusive to NPD

also NPD isn't a thought disorder???? NPD is a personality disorder, thought disorder is "a disorganized way of thinking that leads to unusual speech and writing." what are you defining a thought disorder as? when someone has thoughts that aren't perfect pure and moral? why do you think thoughts automatically equal actions? i have plenty of severely fucked up thoughts because of my disorders that i don't act on

like i dont mean to doubt you but are you fucking sure you have NPD or anything actually like it? because honestly you dont seem to have an idea what the disorder actually is?? like genuine question were you just diagnosed and then they didnt explain at all what that meant? or did they diagnose you based on really fucking ableist ideas???

im sorry this response isnt nice im just so sick of having to over and over again convince people i am not an abusive heartless monster to every fucking person i meet. i do not abuse my loved ones. i am not always the nicest or easiest person to be around but because i have people who actually understand my disorder and want to communicate, we're able to work through it.

"i wouldnt expect anyone i told about my diagnosis to stick with me." please work through your internalized ableism. do not come into my ask box and imply the people i love would have the right to abandon me just because of a disorder i got from severe nonstop childhood abuse and neglect that i have zero control over because you think it automatically makes me an abusive nightmare. good day.

[thonking87]

Vent post time! If you dont wanna read vent, dont read below the line!

I sometimes feel so overwhelmed with dread and distain because of what humanity has become. I see horrors enacted by our own kind by the large powers that be and feel so genuinely powerless. And some will say that protesting will help but like. Honestly? It never feels like enough. Most modern press is in the pockets of the government or corps and its not like theyre going to support whats right, theyre only interested in continued profits. The alternative to this is like active destruction of the powers that be but they've placed themselves in a situation where everyone suffering from the system are also completely reliant on it. If I were able to go off the grid what would I even do? Grow food? Hunt? I havent got those skills. I grew up learning to troubleshoot machines. I could hypothetically learn to do those things but I dont have the time to, due to the powers that be owning the food being produced right now, as well as the land I live on, and the devices and machinery I use to communicate and transport myself around. I dont have a yard to grow food in. I dont have the time to sink into it because I need to work to get money to have a shelter at all. Even if we tore down all the powers that be and broke the chains that bind us, what then? Who makes the food? Who builds our homes? Who keeps the water flowing? What happens when we get sick? What about the people who literally cannot live without medications? Everything in our lives is built to make us rely on large entities that only seek to benefit from us as a people. I dont even know if we could hypothetically break out of this situation as a societal whole if we all wanted to anyway. What with military force being enacted on basic nonbasic protests already. Its just terrifying to think what governments would do if large swaths of their population where to reject their government and claim the lands they live on as their own. From whats happening right now it would just result in death and carnage until all that remains are those who stayed subservient to this abusive system in the first place to survive. So many are trying to find joy in their day to day life and disregard the bad or avoid or minimize it but it shouldnt be there in the first place. Im tired of it all. Im rambling, ugh. Whatever, this was probably all nonsense anyway, im tired.

[sieglinde-freud]

https://www . tumblr.com/sieglinde-freud/730406784151470080/but-what-if-the-entire-lucina-gang-were-sent-to

consider: the new second gen from this happening (aka soleil and ophelia get to have more friends)

okay so i have thought about this before not necessarily in the context of nohr/the fates universe (intsys… give the continent a name please… i cant keep saying fateslandia i really cant) but like im down to take that angle, though i do dislike the whole deeprealm thing we can just… ignore it. maybe. i dont know i think im j gonna word vomit this so maybe i’ll decide halfway through how i feel about that ok lotta thoughts under cut

whenever i liked to think about the awakening second gen having kids (awakening third gen?) it’s kinda hard because i honestly… i dont think a lot of them would? at least not in the state that theyre in once we as players finish awakening. inigo owain and severa get to grow AFTER awakening and we see that, so the case for them is easy. but we dont know what direction everyone goes, so this is a lot of my own interpretations of the characters, so im not gonna make up a concept for all of them. but if you want me to give my thoughts on someone specific i didnt get to here thats totally cool but. on its own this is already gonna be long. i can feel it.

so first is gerome and i dont have like full oc descriptions for any of these kids i just have like ideas of what they could be, and i think with gerome, like realistically in terms of what i think intelligent systems would do given how popular batman is in japan is turn geromes kid into like a robin sidekick kinda guy. but then that gets thrown out the window because percy exists. arthur/gerome realness. but since i cant just steal percy from arthur and call him geromes son, i think a good concept for that would be to have a kid whos very affectionate and like. i think im gonna say itd be a daughter. i think she’d want to be a daddy’s girl kind of like how severa is in her dad supports, but gerome is still in his own shit about raaahh my parents left me and now i have attachment issues the likes of which you wouldn’t believe raaahhh and is REALLY bad about engaging in meaningful interactions with her? gonna use deeprealms actually because if you disregard how absolutely fucking nonsensical it is it brings in some interesting dynamics. anyways so gerome is the type of idiot to do things like purposefully avoid spending time with people to not get attached so hes not sad when they die and i think thats kind of what would go on here? except this time its his daughter and this time he locked her in a pocket dimension for all of her formative years and probably didnt visit her! i hate to paint gerome in a bad light like i really do i love him so very much but i think his inability to reach out would really hit him hard here realistically speaking! and so then their support conversations would be her trying to reach out and slowly getting through to him, forcing him to self reflect on the fact that he neglected his own child for years just because he was scared. and that sucks but i think it would be important for him and a good way to complete his arc that was set up in awakening that he couldnt ever really finish because of the way the support system works

realistically yarne would aim to have like thirty kids but im not conceptualizing THIRTY KIDS but i think his dynamic with this child would be like velouria and keaton but the other way around with yarne being the overly affectionate and doting one whereas the kids j kinda like …okayyy??? but could obviously see yarnes good intentions and relief that. you know. he has a kid! hes safe! i think when it comes to laslow and odin having kids, those supports were more used to further THEIR development, which is what i went for with gerome, but when it comes to yarne i feel like something that could be interesting to tackle with his kid is their identity with being 1/4 taguel and like. idk. wanting to be proud of a culture that doesnt exist? show off their heritage to world thats never heard of it? deal with the fact that while they may pass on the taguel blood like this, itll eventually wither out just due to genetics? maybe his kid wouldn’t be able to transform fully into a rabbit (probably not true since i think corrins kids would all be 1/4 dragon right. bc corrins only half? but whatever maybe the taguel are different) and itd fuck with their sense of self. not sure exactly what direction this would take but i think it could be a fun way of discussing being biracial in a way like this (albeit heavily fantasized because. fantasy game)

severas a bit weird because while yes shes already in fates and yes caeldori might be hinted at being her canon daughter (which i dislike the concept of a lot! as nice as the interactions are) its not ACTUALLY canon and i think she deserves a kid thats specifically her own and ive made a post about this before but i feel like severas issues with her mom is something that she clearly isnt over by the time of fates no matter how her support with cordelia goes. and the perspective that odin and laslow get from being parents in that they learn what their parents went through in protecting and ultimately dying for them would be SO insanely valuable for selena!! she thinks cordelia died for chrom! and while its true we’ll never know how bad timeline cordelia felt and our cordelia is clearly very different, i dont think thats true. severa just needs to see that and i dont think a cordelia look alike is the way to do that. severa strikes me as woman with a son vibes anyways. i think in the same way soleil and ophelia ramp up their dad’s traits, her son would do something similar and just be wayyy tsundere about everything to the point where not even severa can do anything about it. i think it could be funny, but itd also put her right in her moms shoes back in their support conversation, trying to get through to a child whos convinced you dont love them as much as they love you (maybe he’d be pissed off about the deeprealm thing. i think thats a good angle) and she buys his time with sweets and dessert the same way because as much as it pisses her off, hes just like her and she knows what works! now she just has to make sure he doesnt continue to grow up like how she did

theres this part of cynthias character thats very subtle thats shown in her dad support and its at the very end and if you notice at the end of that support there is… no resolution. cynthia hugs her dad, says its okay that she knows she’ll never be his real daughter and he’ll never be her real dad, and then it ends. compare to someone like inigo’s father or lucina’s mother support where they emphasize hey!! youre my kid too! and i think that’s a fun way to take cynthias development in the future because she just… doesnt get that. FOR SOME REASON????? so i think cynthia in fates could deal a little bit with putting that behind her and learning to deal with that in this new world because i think its obvious she doesnt WANT to part from her parents, she just feels like she has to. and i think this could come through when she has a kid of her own. i think she’d actually be a pretty fucking good parent, deeprealms aside, trying to maintain this bond with them and reassure them that she isnt going anywhere because i think thats what cynthia herself always needed to hear. i dont think there’d be too much conflict here, but i think it could be a decent way to finish cynthia’s character arc and let her give herself the closure she was looking for even if she didnt know she was.

and this is long as fuck and late as fuck!!! sorry. though if you saw the last ask (or if this is the same anon. hi 👋) you probably saw that coming.

[sprites4ever]

To Gun or not to Gun

Thoughts on the fundamental morality of weapons

this is literally me when im a tool of destruction from france fr fr fr france

[IMAGE SOURCE: Forces News]

In a post-WWII, post-nuclear world, peace has become a much bigger topic in geopolitics.

Before the destruction, caused by the industrialization of warfare in WWII, war was seen as a common and good thing in Western society.

Kingdoms would go to war, have thousands kill each other at max, steal some riches and be done with it. If a monarch wanted war, they could sell it to the public, due to the specter of war not being one of major or even total destruction.

Now, it's different.

We humans have biblical destructive powers at our command.

We have weaponized plagues. (Bioweapons that spread pathogens via animals, aerosol, contact etc.)

We have built fighting automatons. (Drones with bombs)

WE COMMAND A FRACTION OF THE STARFIRE (nuclear weapons utilize nuclear fission and fusion, processes that occur naturally in the universe on a massive scale and are the reason stars exist)

And yet, we haven't shook our desire for conflict. Still, conflict is in our nature as persistent predators.

With such threats of total annihilation, geopolitics has become a lot more complex, with efforts centering around avoiding and limiting conflict.

Peace used to be a concept that was only pondered and acted on on a personal scale, now it is on an international scale (except for russia).

And thus, oh-so-often do you hear discussions about the military-industrial complex and its major role in perpetuating war, by giving people the means to fight them.

But, I believe the discussion about it actually comes from a limited, Western perspective.

First off, the Western superpower (United States of America) and great powers (United Kingdom, France and Germany) are not the only places where weapons are produced on a major, Industrial scale. The sentiment that they are stems from Cold-War-and-beyond anti-Western propaganda, which abuses the Western exceptionalist mindset and intrinsically connects war with capitalism, even though modern capitalism arose in the 1800s, and war is a much older concept than that, and despite all the wars waged by anti-capitalists.

For example, no loyalist to the Chinese Communist Party has a right to call warmongering an exclusively Western or capitalist thing, as, out of the five deadliest wars in world history, three were Chinese civil wars.

Another example is how many militias, paramilitaries, guerillias and other militant non-state actors use Soviet weaponry. The Soviet Union was, after all, the place where you had more tanks than food.

This is something that upsets me in the Western discussion of warmongering:

Once again, viewing the world from a Western exceptionalist perspective, Westerners often somehow disregard the roles of non-state actors in the starting and perpetuating of wars.

People, just because they're not the strongest, doesn't mean they can't desire war, or are incapable of starting and perpetuating wars!

(Most non-state actors are actually proxies of state actors anyway)

This is, for example, also why I advocate for more shooter video games to use mercenaries as the enemy soldiers who the player can mow down at their leisure, as, in real life and modern times, becoming a mercenary is always a choice, and one indicative of nonexistent morality at that.

Since they're non-state actors, you don't hear much about them on Western news or in political discussions, but mercenaries are arguably more of 'War Merchants', people whose business is war, than Western arms companies.

The Western arms companies may be similarly immoral,

but the reality of their selling of weapons to all sides of any conflict they can contact is the same as with any other commodity in an age of international trade:

They sell to whoever wants to buy, and whoever they CAN sell to.

Technically, the international sale of, say, German-produced guns works the same way as that of German-produced cars.

I, for one, haven't heard anyone talk about the Volkswagen-BMW complex.

Many Western countries are also democratic, which means that the economy, and that includes arms companies, often has more of an influence on the government than that the government has an influence on the economy.

In russia or China, the opposite is true:

Guns and bombs are only produced, sold and used when the Dear and Very Democratic Dictator for Life says so.

Ultimately, a weapon may be a tool of destruction, but in and for itself, it is morally neutral.

The phrase "It's the guns that kill people" is only half true.

Being man-made tools of destruction, weapons only kill anything and anyone if they are used as such by a person.

Yes, there can be lethal accidents, but you also get those in environments with entirely peaceful tools. Often more so than with weapons, as peaceful tools are underestimated in their destructive capability.

And this leads to my whole point:

While some tools are, by design, more peaceful than others, they can always be used in a destructive way.

A hammer can be used to build homes, or to break a person's skull.

Nuclear fission can be harnessed to produce a ginormous explosion that kills tens of thousands, or to produce electricity to keep tens of thousands warm and safe.

I think we Westerners have enjoyed peace for such a long time that we have forgotten how inherently dangerous the world is, and how fragile peace is. So, we no longer appreciate it.

This isn't to advocate war, but to see war and weapons with more nuance.

I will leave you with a quote from Mahatma Gandhi:

„I do believe that, where there is only a choice between cowardice and violence, I would advise violence… I would rather have India resort to arms in order to defend her honour than that she should, in a cowardly manner, become or remain a helpless witness to her own dishonor.“

[sophierequests]

hi lovely! i have a fic idea! kaz brekker x reader where the prompt is

"take my hand"

"no"

"look im not trying to ask you to marry me, im trying to save your life"

take my hand and don't let go

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: Found the beginning of this in my drafts and I literally do not remember starting it?? So I decided to scrap some stuff and rewrite this fic, because I actually really love this prompt for Kaz! I intended on making this into a rather light-hearted fic, but my poor writer's brain sees the name Kaz Brekker and immediately switches to angst, so sorry for that </3 It has a fluffy ending though, so don't be afraid. And, of course, thank you for the request, lovely <333

Summary: A job gone wrong forces the reader to do something she had tried to avoid: touching Kaz.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, kinda Fluff???

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Blood, explosion, Kaz Brekker isn't able to express his emotions properly, who could've guessed that?

“They still haven’t given us the signal, Kaz.” You pressed, anxiously watching the man in front of you fidget with his lock-picking tool as he tried to avoid your gaze as best as he could.

At first, the job seemed to be relatively manageable. Inej and Jesper would climb into the warehouse first, surveying the area and notifying you once everything was deemed safe. After that, Kaz and you would pick the lock, steal the blueprints you needed for your next big heist, and leave. It was something you had done countless times before - always getting out successfully - so no one was really worried about it when you went in.

However, the whole situation just didn’t sit right with you. Upon entering the supposedly abandoned building, you were immediately starting to get suspicious of how clean it was. It was far too well taken care of for a warehouse without any real occupants since the previous shareholders had gone ‘bankrupt’. And even though all of that definitely rubbed you the wrong way, Kaz proceeded to make his way through the dingy hallways in the direction of the vault. You didn’t even try to get him to reconsider, he wouldn’t have listened anyway.

By now, the two others should have already cleared the entirety of the premise, causing Kaz to become a bit restless. His fingers were itching to finally get all of this over with. The blueprints were crucial for his next plan, so you fully understood why he needed this mission to work. But it genuinely unnerved you that he was ready to throw caution to the wind just because your friends diverted from the original plan.

“What are you doing?” He leaned down just enough to access the lock without putting too much pressure on his bad leg. The weather had been terribly frigid over the last few weeks, and it was taking a toll on his agility. It pained you to watch him put himself through this without being able to offer him help, but you knew that he would be too stubborn to actually accept it.

“What does it look like? Interpretive dance?” He sneered, removing his leather gloves before getting to work. His alabaster hands clashed with the rich black colour of his coat, making them look almost translucent. You watched him as he reached for the tool, pausing briefly to prepare his mind for the coldness of the metal. With a huffed breath, he brought it up to the lock, cautiously manoeuvring the tip around inside the mechanism. You didn’t know why he had such a severe aversion to touch - one where he couldn’t even bear to be touched by cold materials or objects - but you were well aware that it had to have been something pretty traumatic for him to react this way, meaning that you wouldn’t pry.

“Inej and Jesper haven’t told us that everything is clear, you can’t just ignore your own orders!” You hissed, giving him an exasperated glare that could have just as well been a carbon copy of his own, whenever he had to deal with Jesper’s antics.

“My orders are the only orders I can disregard without a guilty conscience.”

“Oh please, you and having a guilty conscience? I thought you weren’t one for fairytal-” The sentence was harshly cut off by yells echoing from the corridor adjacent to the one you were in. You turned your head, whilst Kaz was still focused on picking the lock.

“Kaz! Y/N! Don’t!” Jesper yelled as he finally appeared in your line of sight. When he saw the situation you were in, his already frantic eyes grew even wider, a look of horror spreading all over his face.

“Jesper, what is-”

“Explosives!” The words didn’t even fully leave his mouth as the distinct click of the lock forced your eyes back towards Kaz. He only had time to shout for both of you to run before a deafening bang sounded from behind the door. Only Jesper was still able to follow his command. You were still wrapping your head around the situation when a sharp blow lifted you off your feet with brutal force.

Your body hit the concrete ground with a firm thud, rendering you unable to move for a few moments after the impact. Everything around you was spinning, and you felt as if you had just lost the majority of your ability to hear, but staying on the ground wasn’t an option. The distinct metallic smell of an explosive-induced fire travelled through the dust-filled air, as you forced yourself to sit up. You could barely make out the silhouettes and shapes of the objects around you as you watched the fire crawl out of the room. If you didn’t leave now, you would be the next thing to succumb to its wrath.

Kaz.

The thought shot into your mind like the top of an arrow hitting a bullseye. Your distorted sight and slight dizziness limited your ability to spot him greatly, but you wouldn’t leave him here to die.

A violent cough caught your attention, and you saw the hunched-over form of Kaz futilely trying to sit up. Since he had been so close to the epicentre of the explosion, the sheer power of the blow had thrown him right against the rough wall opposite the door. You could recognize scratches and bruises all over his face as his eyes hectically peered through the rubble around him.

“Kaz!” You called out, wobbly dashing towards him. His head snapped around to face you, an emotion akin to relief flashing over his features. He tried to push himself up, at least to get into a sitting position, but his whole body ached as he attempted to do so. It was only then that both of you noticed the torn-up fabric of his trousers revealing a deep gash on the side of his leg. His good leg. “This looks bad.”

“Go.” He let out a laboured breath, as he let his back rest against the wall.

“And leave you here to die? We both know I won’t do that.” You thankfully managed to spot his cane, bringing it over to him as quickly as you could. Kneeling down next to him, you tried to assess the damage with weary eyes.

“Y/N, that wasn’t a request. Go.” The harsh tone of his voice didn’t faze you anymore. He might be a stubborn bastard, but even he didn’t deserve to meet his end in a filthy burning warehouse.

“If you think that I’ll start listening to you know, you are greatly mistaken.”

“I won’t be able to walk.” He hissed in pain as he finally managed to sit up properly. If it had been anyone else but Kaz Brekker, you wouldn’t even have thought twice about pulling him to his feet and dragging him outside. But you couldn’t do that to him.

“Take my hand.” You hoisted yourself up to your feet again, stretching out your hand for him to take. This was risky, however, you needed to do something.

“No.” His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked up at you, apprehension written all over his face.

“Kaz, for Saints’ sake! Look, I’m not trying to ask you to marry me, I’m trying to save your life!” This attempt at humour wasn’t much appreciated.

“I can’t.” His gaze wandered to his hands. His bare hands. He didn’t have his gloves. Shit, this only managed to get worse. You really didn’t want to do this.

“Listen, I can’t - and won’t - force you to do anything.” Your previously demanding voice grew a bit softer as you gave him one last chance. “I know that this is going to be really uncomfortable for you, but we have to leave. I’ll do whatever you tell me if that means that you’ll agree to let me help you.”

“Okay.” You watched the way his hand shook as he reached for yours. With a surprisingly tight grip, he held onto it, allowing you to pull him to his feet.

Immediately upon standing up, an intense pang of pain shot through his legs and he began to stumble forward, his body threatening to give in again. Your mind went into overdrive as you lunged forward, hastily putting an arm under his shoulder and letting him cling to yours.

His heart began to race when he realized the situation he was in. His bare hands had been on your bare hands and now there were only two layers of clothes separating your skin. You were close. Way too close for him to function properly. The rising waters mixed with the stinging ache rushing through his legs made him want to vomit.

“Kaz.” Your voice pulled him out of his stupor briefly, giving him enough distraction to keep him from pushing you away and having a panic attack right then and there. “We need to move. Please, tell me what to do.”

“Keep talking.” He shifted his weight to partially lean on his cane, reducing the pressure he had put on you. “Distract me.”

The cracking of the fire behind you made the urgency you felt prior to this return. You managed to give him a brief nod before carefully beginning to inch forward. One of your arms supported his back, while the other rested on his chest to keep him from falling forward. From where your hand was situated, you could basically feel his heart thud against his ribcage, his rapid breathing only underlining the panic brewing inside him.

“Do you remember that one week two months ago? When all of your heist plans went missing and you never figured out who took them, even after they returned the week after?” You had to distract him. You had to keep talking.

“Yes?”

“I hid them.” It was a stupid thing to bring up. It didn’t have any correlation to what was happening right now, but it seemed to get him to focus on something else than the current situation.

“What?” The words almost came out as a chuckle, but you weren’t sure whether that was because he genuinely found it entertaining, or because the absurdity of the situation beat him to it.

“You were ill. You had a fever.” Kaz almost froze when he heard that. It was true. He had been ill that week - probably one of the worst fevers he had since the plague. But he never told anyone. He even made sure to lock his window to stop Inej from suddenly appearing. Initially, he had intended to retreat into his office, and just continue to work on some upcoming heist plans. However, one day after breakfast, all of the plans were gone, and no one seemed to know a thing. Not even a thorough search through the Slat made them reappear. Eventually, he just decided to give you the week off for ‘recreational activities after an especially tiring heist’. Lo and behold, after his fever had set again, the plans returned to his desk again - neatly stacked and sorted. “I hid them so you could rest. I knew what you were trying to do, and I didn’t want you to overwork yourself just to keep anyone from being made aware that you can get sick too.”

Ask her why.

The questions bubbled inside his head. Why would you go out of your way to force him to rest? Why did you even care about his well-being enough to do something like that?

“Why?” He rasped out, becoming even more aware of the way his heart raged against its restraints.

“I suppose for the same reason why I’m not letting you stay here and die.” That statement was a bit too honest for your liking, and Kaz seemed to have picked up on it. However, before he could press the matter further, a sudden wave of nausea and vertigo overcame him. The waves had ultimately managed to pull him under.

And without being able to take another step, his legs buckled, the world around him fading into black. The only thing you could do was to hold onto him as he fell, only scarcely breaking the fall before his limp body hit the ground. He had fainted.

The next time he woke up he wasn’t in the warehouse anymore. He was at the Slat. In his own room. In his own bed. It seemed to be late - the darkness engulfing him was a pretty strong base for that thesis. The only source of light that had even allowed him to recognize where he was, came from somewhere beside him. He didn’t bother to look where it was coming from, nor did he have the energy to turn his head.

Every still-intact muscle screamed at him, but he felt a strong urge to sit up. His efforts were futile though. A hand quickly hovered above his chest, not touching him, but present enough to get him to abandon his task.

“Don’t.” Kaz could feel his entire body relax when he heard your voice. He had half-heartedly expected it to be Nina, or maybe even Jesper, there to scold him for being so foolish. Having you here was way preferable. “Don’t try to sit up. You need to rest. And if Nina sees that I allowed you to sit up, she’ll probably stop my heart. Or yours. Or both of our hearts if she’s feeling especially murderous.”

His head fell back on his pillow, angling it a little to the side to take a better look at you and also finding the lamp that just barely illuminated the corner of his room. You sat right next to his bed, some novel resting idly in your lap as you gave him a comforting smile. And even though he still felt as if he had been run over by a carriage going full speed, he couldn’t help the ghost of a smirk rush over his lips.

“What happened?” The question had been burning holes in his head since the bomb went off. He had a rough idea, but the details were rather blurry.

“It was a trap. Dime Lions. They paid our informant to lure us right into their trap. Apparently, Inej found a stack of letters in the not-so-abandoned office, but Jesper was too late to tell us.” You recited what they told you after dragging Kaz back to the Slat. You didn’t remember every single detail, but this amount of information would suffice for now.

“I should have waited.” Kaz groaned, regret flooding his mind as he remembered the events of the day prior. Had he only waited a little while longer…

“Hey,” You reached forward, resting your hand just mere inches away from his. “You couldn’t have known. We all made it out alive, so you have nothing to blame yourself for.”

“That doesn’t rectif-”

“Kaz.” He only sighed in response to your warning glare.

“Fine.”

“I think I should go down and tell Nina that you’re awake. She wanted to take another look at your leg once you’re conscious again.” You were just about to stand up when Kaz seized the hand close to his. His touch was featherlight, - not at all comparable to the tight grip he had on it a day earlier - but it was still there.

“I knew that it was you.” He croaked out, his eyes fixed on yours as if you were about to vanish once he averted them.

“That I was what?” You replied perplexed, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was willingly touching you right now.

“That you were the person who stole the heist plans. I didn’t know your reasoning, but I knew that it was you.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say anything? If it had been Jesper, you would’ve ripped him to shreds?”

A pause.

He knew exactly why he didn’t confront you about it. He just couldn’t tell you. At least not yet.

“I suppose for the same reason I wanted you to leave the warehouse without me.” His hand gave yours a brief squeeze before eventually letting go. Even though he didn’t say it out loud, the knowing smile that began to settle on your face told him that you knew.

Taglist:

Grishaverse fics in general: @yesshewrites1 @dal-light

Kaz Brekker: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @juneberrie @writingmysanity @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @brekkers-desigirl @fall-writes

[electronikmilk]

Papa’s Punishment

alternative title: Accidentally Fucking Around and Finding Out

ive been working on this for so long and im sick of lookin at it

rating: explicit/nsfw

Copia x f reader 

contains: dom copia, possible abuse of power, spanking, and pet play. 

You had dozed, then awakened to find that you were still bound in Copia's ornate bed-chamber deep within the abbey walls. 

No, he wasn't Copia anymore. He was Papa now. And you had to address him as such when he wore the paint. That was what he said when he had his Ghouls drag you into his chamber after you had called him the silly little nickname that the other sisters called him behind his back as a joke. Ratman. It was innocent enough since he was fond of the small rodents, or so you thought. Copia's face had grown dark as soon as you uttered it, and it frightened you enough to fall silent after a fit of giggles. Then he reached out and gripped your chin tight before leaning close to address you. 

"Mm. Funny." He said in a way that sounded like he didn't find it funny at all and glared down at you, "It is bold of you to be disrespectful to your Papa when he wears the paint. And that is all I will be to you now. I'm not Copia, not Cardinal, and especially not Ratman. I am Papa, and I will not accept any other title, sister. Perhaps a little lesson is in order so you will remember this." 

Before you could say anything, Copia snapped his fingers, and that was when his two Ghouls surrounded you, grabbed you by the arms, and marched down the halls with you in tow. Everyone within the corridors stopped and watched as the Ghouls dragged you along. Two sisters from the convent whispered to each other and turned their gazes away as if they might be taken away at any second too. They knew where you were going, and it was sure as hell somewhere they didn't want to be, for it was a place of great shame and mystery. You let your head drop in humiliation before your peers, not standing the way they saw you. It was a relief when you finally arrived at Copia's chamber and were taken inside. You said nothing to the Ghouls as they fastened leather cuffs around your ankles, then bound your hands over your head with silk rope. 

"Sorry, sister," One of them had said. They removed the coif and veil of your habit, then pulled out the pins that held your hair in place so that it fell loose, "We're just following Papa's orders. I'm sure you understand."

All you gave them was a contemptuous look until they left. 

You had struggled against your restraints until you eventually gave up, falling asleep despite your buttocks pushing against the hard stone wall behind you. How long had that been? There was no clock or window in the room, so it was hard for you to tell. Perhaps a few hours. Long enough for you to wake up with a sore neck, anyway. The room itself lay in shadow and unbroken stillness. You winced as you turned your head to look around the room. The only illumination offered to you was from a small antique lamp on an ink-stained writing desk in the corner. The dim light threw long uneven shadows on the high arched ceiling above. A king-sized bed sat against the wall opposite you with a canopy bed frame draped with black cloth. It made it look like a dark, cavernous mouth that was ready to swallow you whole. A tall mahogany bookshelf containing several taxidermied rats positioned in various poses stood near the door. You made a face at the furry ornaments. It was definitely Copia's room. 

Your stomach growled, and the sound of it in the stillness of the room made it seem more like a lion's roar. How long Copia planned to keep you in here and what his intentions were, you didn't know for sure. You just hoped he wouldn't starve you. The thought sent a sudden jolt of panic through you; your mind flashed images of you left to rot in a cell in the abbey basement. You knew that the cells had been abandoned for centuries, just collecting dust and acting as storage for Yuletide decorations. But Copia had changed since he finally became Papa Emeritus IV. You had always thought him awkward as a Cardinal, sometimes even amusing in his antics, but he was always just that: awkward, no one to be scared of. It was a curious and abrupt transformation; He held his head high now, and his stride was no longer unsure or clumsy. When he wore the paint, he had an air of authority, of strength and pride no one knew he had. He wanted respect, and he demanded it among the clergy with an iron fist. Everyone was to address him as Papa only and woe unto anyone who didn't comply. At first, you had to admit his newfound confidence in his power was something to admire, covet even. That is until the sisters of the order were no longer safe from his wrath, then it became something to be feared. Copia had forgiven slips of the tongue and had given warnings that he said he would only offer once. If it happened again, however, there would be a severe punishment to follow.  

Sister Claire was the first to be punished. Claire had always been hotheaded and often butted heads with her superiors for the sake of her own amusement. She had been no different with Copia two months ago. On your way to your weekly duty to clean the chapel, you stumbled upon Copia, two Nameless Ghouls, and Claire in the middle of the empty hall. You seemed to go unnoticed by all four. Curious, you slipped into one of the corridor's alcoves and peeked around the corner, as not to be seen. As you listened closely, you caught the tail end of a heated argument over the state of the abbey's gardens. Claire was on a tirade, ranting about how Copia's lack of dedication to employing a proper gardener made the grounds look like it was in shambles. She had addressed the new Papa as Cardinal several times, much to Copia's irritation. The former Cardinal stood back with folded arms and a frown while the hot-blooded sister babbled on about how this needed attention and how that needed fixing. She addressed him incorrectly the entire time. It amazed you how bullheaded Claire could be. 

"Cara," Copia finally interrupted after Claire had called him Cardinal for the fifth time, his voice becoming stern. "I understand that you're upset, but I have made it more than clear that everyone within this church is to call me Papa. And frankly, I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for my rules." 

"Don't you 'Cara' me!" Sister Claire shot back, " And I'll call you Papa when I'm damn well good and ready. But until then, I think I'll keep calling you Cardinal, Cardinal." 

"Basta! Enough!" Copia shouted suddenly, grabbed Claire by the wrist, and dragged her behind him as he headed further down the hall, luckily away from your direction. "I have been patient with you, sister, with all of you. But no more!"

Claire resisted, trying to wrench from his grasp and yelling at him to let her go. Copia ignored this and tugged her along anyway. When she started cursing and slapping at him, Copia gestured for a Ghoul to take her about the waist and carry her. Claire shrieked like a banshee and kicked her legs in the air when she was lifted. Copia gave the Ghoul a sharp command for them to silence her, and the Ghoul clapped a hand over Claire's mouth, muffling the scream as they hauled her away. You watched the whole display in shock, unable to move or look away. When all four of them disappeared around a corner, you crept out from your hiding place on shaky legs. You quickly made your way to the chapel without encountering anyone else, and it was a relief to you. You tried to put what you saw out of your head, but as you tended to your regular duties, the sound of Claire's screams resonated in your head. 

You didn't see Sister Claire again until late into the evening. She seemed no worse for wear, having neither a bruise nor scratch on her. But she was timid, quiet, and obedient, you noticed when Sister Imperator asked her to sweep and wash the floor, which she almost scurried to do. When the other sisters asked her where she had been, Claire just shook her head frantically. Her pretty face grew red, and a look of shame and fear that concerned you twisted her features. 

"I can't tell you!" was all she said and nothing more. 

It wasn't too long until other insubordinate sisters fell victim to Copia's fury. Each one disappeared into his chambers for hours at a time, and when they were set free, none of them spoke of what they went through. You could only speculate, and what you brewed up in your head terrified you. All manner of dark medieval tortures often raced by: pears of anguish, iron chairs, Spanish donkeys, breast rippers, and thumbscrews. You knew all of that was impossible, however. None of the other sisters had a mark on them when they returned; they barely even a hair out of place, so what kind of punishment was wicked enough to force them all into silence? Whatever it was, you tried so hard to avoid it. You never spoke out of turn, tended to your duties without complaint, you even baked a cake for Copia on his birthday. But despite all your effort, misfortune still befell you over a joke that wasn't even that funny. Your throat tightened as tears began to prickle behind your eyes, and you dreaded what kind of torment waited for you in this dark room. 

You were almost lost in your contemplation of it all when you heard the heavy wooden door open. You saw the tall, lean figure of Copia enter the room and close the door behind him, a plate of food in one hand and a blood-red velvet bag in the other. He almost seemed like a specter, dressed in a figure-hugging black suit --the one that you said he looked handsome in to gain his favor. His face was bare of paint, save for his eyes. He had lined them with black, smudged eyeliner, making his mismatched gaze smoldering and intense. 

He made his way to you with both items in hand. He stayed back a few feet, the velvet bag swinging slightly at his side. The faint aroma of roasted chicken found your nose, and the delectable smell of it made your mouth water. Copia gazed at you with narrow eyes, his expression unreadable. You lowered your eyes and sucked in a breath, petrified of what was to come. You waited for yelling, cursing, for the food to be thrown at you, anything, but Copia just muttered something under his breath, went to place the plate and bag on the bed, then returned to undo all your restraints. You stood there free with stiff, aching arms. You wanted to stretch them but didn't dare make any movement that Copia might disapprove of. You kept your eyes down, only bringing them up once to see Copia sit on the edge of the bed with the plate in his lap, then darting them back to the floor. You felt the subtle pressure of his gaze on you for what seemed like a long time. 

"Come here." Copia finally broke the silence.

You obeyed and took a tentative step forward. 

"No." He said sharply, making you freeze, "On your hands and knees. Crawl to me." 

Your head jerked up, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Your breathing hitched, and your heart started to hammer. You hesitated, and Copia frowned at you. He raised his gloved hands and slapped them together once, hard. It sounded like the cracking of a whip in the quiet. "Now, sister." 

You let out a little yelp and dropped to your knees. You hurried as you crawled over to Copia, stopping just before his feet. He gave a hum of satisfaction.

"Ah, excellent. You're obedient. That is good, my dear. It will make your ordeal go more smoothly." 

Ordeal. The word made you shudder. 

"But first, you must be hungry, si? You've been waiting here a long time."

Your stomach let out another grumble. You said nothing. You kept your eyes fixed on the glossy leather of Copa's black shoes as your apprehension deepened. You didn't want to look up at him; all at once, he seemed large, mighty, and terrible, like he could crush you underneath those patent leather soles if he so desired. He could make you suffer, and no one would witness it. It was just you and Copia. You and Papa.

"Say 'yes, Papa' or 'no, Papa,'" Copia said. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be respectful." 

"I...I-" You stammered, then you swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, "Yes, Papa." 

"Good girl." He said. "Now, kneel up and look at me." 

You did as commanded, and you realized as you looked up at him that you were crying. Through the blur of tears, you saw Copia's hand reach for your face. You flinched a little, then relaxed when you only felt the fingers wipe away your tears and smooth your hair back almost affectionately.

"Oh, come now. I have not been mean just yet, my dear. Don't cry." He soothed, "There will be plenty of time for that later, but if you're well behaved and do what I say, Papa will be gentle with you. Do you understand?" 

You nodded, sniffling and letting Copia caress your face. It comforted you, if only a little bit.

"Answer me properly,"

"Yes, Papa. I understand." You said.

"Very good, very good," Copia said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before letting you eat the slices of succulent chicken breast on the plate with your hands. After you finished, he took a sprig of green grapes and fed them to you one at a time. He watched in obvious amusement when you spat the seeds into your hand and timidly discarded them onto the plate, careful of every move you made. When he got to the last three, he took one and held it up just out of your reach. He smiled when you blinked up at him, confused. 

"Up, cara," He said, "Show me a trick." 

You bit your lip, blushing, and again, you hesitated. You shook your head before you realized what a mistake it was. Immediately, Copia took the plate, set it aside, and then gathered you up to toss you over his lap so that your legs dangled over the floor. You gasped in surprise and fear when he flipped your skirt to expose your panties. When you felt the sting of his gloved hand spank you hard, you couldn't help but let out a cry. One great slap after another fell on your buttocks, sounding thunderous in your ears. You heard yourself taking in sharp gasps of pain with each strike. His hand seemed solid and heavy like a paddle as it spanked you, over and over, hitting you on the right cheek, then the left, and then covering your thighs with smacks while your ass stung and throbbed. You clenched your teeth to stifle your cries, and when you tried in vain to wiggle away, Copia held you in place and rewarded you with more vigorous blows, swift ones that whipped you like a strap. And soon, you realized you were becoming frantic, tears streaming down your cheeks. You tried to be still, but your body squirmed and writhed of its own accord. Now Copia worked only the backs of your thighs, where the punishing hand lingered and struck hard until you were sure that the flesh there was red and inflamed. 

"Papa, please!" You finally wailed and broke into choking sobs.

The blows stopped. You didn't move. You just shut your eyes and wept as Copia's hand now moved along your buttocks languidly. He stroked your thighs as if to soothe them.

"Now, do you see why I ask you to do as I say?" Copia crooned, "I can be cruel, sister. Much more than this, I assure you. The other sisters know what I can do, especially Sister Claire. She knows the worst of it. Lucifer's name, she was like a devil herself, all teeth and claws until I tamed her. The other Papas have spoilt her and the others rotten. Not just the sisters, but the brothers, too, and the priests, the bishops. They all have little to no manners, no respect. So I have to take it upon myself to teach them." 

You shook against his legs as he told you this. He rubbed little circles in the small of your back, then he squeezed your buttocks, sending a rush of sensation along your body that made you flush. You thought of poor Sister Claire and what she must have gone through that was enough to break her. Vivid images of whipping belts, heavy wooden paddles, and flesh crisscrossed with angry welts made your stomach sink, so you stopped. 

'I have to be good.' You thought. It was better to surrender than suffer the same fate as the others, better to leave with your good reputation with Copia intact. After all, he said he would be gentle if you obeyed, and you decided you would. You hoped he would keep his word, and you let your body slacken in resignation.   

"I like to play games with them." Copia continued, "I like to order them around the room, fetching whatever I throw for them because it pleases me or whatever else suits my mood. Sometimes I even strap them down and use the paddle. But I never hurt them, not severely. I happen to be a reasonable man, after all. Oh, but that would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? You're too sweet for the paddle, too soft. It's just a pity you disobey me, call me names. Do you think yourself too good to call me by my proper title, sister? Too good to follow my direction?" His hand tightened threateningly on your thigh, then you felt it leave your skin, and you were terrified he might spank you again. 

"No, Papa," You said in a panicked whisper. 

"Do I need to punish you like the others?" 

"No, Papa. I'll be good, I promise." 

"Yes," Copia sighed, his hand now playing with your hair instead of punishing you, "You will be perfect for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa." 

"Good."

Copia pulled you back up and set you on the floor. You had stopped crying, though your lips still trembled. You knelt there and awaited his command. Again, he took a grape and held it up for you. This time you didn't hesitate to take it from his fingers with your mouth. He held the next one high enough to make you raise yourself up on your heels to get it. He then tossed the last grape into the air, over your head so that it bounced and rolled a few feet away when it hit the floor. 

"Fetch, little puppy." He commanded, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You obeyed shyly. When you crawled back and dropped it into Copia's open hand, he let out a hearty laugh. 

"You're easy to train." He said and popped the fruit into your mouth, "Perhaps I should make you my little pet when we're finished here." 

You didn't really want to eat it, but you did anyway, seeds and all. Copia beamed at you, his smile genuinely kind. 

"Lovely, my dear." He whispered, his voice low and sweet. Then he gathered you in his arms once more and kissed you deeply. It sent a shock through you, settling into a knot in your stomach that made you shiver against your will. Copia kissed the smoothness of your forehead, kissed your soft hairline, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. They were tender, gentle, like butterflies that brushed against your skin with their silky wings, and you lifted your head to receive them. He kissed your cheeks, then returned to your parted lips. You let out little sighs as he kissed you despite your fear, which now melted away a little bit as your body seemed to soften all over. Copia moved and rose to stand, pulling you up with him into his embrace. He pulled you closer to his body once you were steady on your feet; his kisses left your face to explore along your jaw and the line of your throat. His slim arms were surprisingly strong as they held you, and his lips were soft. They tickled against the sensitive skin of your neck as they trailed down. His hands started to roam your body, stroking your hips, groping at your ass and the backs of your thighs. It sent delightful shivers along your skin and down your spine. It made you feel weak, dissolving, aroused. Any fear you felt a minute ago faded into a haze of sudden lust. You couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck and moaning. The action made the kisses harder, more fervent. When you felt Copia open his mouth to bite you here and there as if to taste you, you whimpered, and your body melted all the more. You felt your breasts against his chest, and you wanted to press them to him harder. You almost did when Copia pulled away, slipping out of your arms. The loss of sensation was nearly gutting.

You stood there dazed, swaying, and taking in uneven breaths. Copia's own breath came heavy and deep as he straightened his clothes to disengage himself. You could see his arousal through the tightness of his pants, and you bit your lip. If only your punishment could be just this, but you knew it wouldn't be. Copia appeared to be fighting to contain himself, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Once he was composed, he let out a quiet laugh. It was almost musical in its softness. Your body burned as you watched him, aroused but at the same time fearful of punishment. You would do anything to please him, to keep him gentle like this, so you waited.  

"Pardon me, cara. You gave in much faster than I anticipated, and I almost lost myself." Copia said, catching you in his gaze again. His lips spread slowly into a grin when he observed you flushed with desire. "And still, you wait for my command. I admit I didn't quite expect you to be as obedient as you are, and I would reward you, but I want to play one of my games with you first." 

Before you could protest, he took the velvet bag off the bed, opened it, and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a spiked leather collar that looked like it was meant for a large dog. A black leash was affixed to it. You felt your breath leave you when Copia undid the collar and eyed you with a deliberate leer. You swallowed, then lifted your head so that Copia could fasten it onto you. He shook his head.

"Not yet." He said, "Take off your clothes." 

Your face burned as you obeyed. You took a few steps back and hurried to shed your dress, slip, shoes, and stockings, but you hesitated yet again once you were in your bra and panties. You felt so naked already, so vulnerable. You didn't know if you could bear it to be completely nude. You tried to shield yourself by bringing your hands up and wringing them. It did little to conceal you. Seeing this, Copia approached and kissed your temple. 

"You can keep them on. Now, my little puppy..." He buckled the collar to fit snuggly around your neck and left the leash dangling between your breasts. "You have been very, very good so far, apart from your little slip of decorum, but I want to see just how obedient you can be. You know a well-trained dog always follows its master's commands, yes?" 

An icy prickle crawled up your spine, sending shivers through your arms and making your heart clench in your chest before hammering hard again. 

"Yes, Papa..." You said as expected though uncertainty and fear laced your voice. Copia rubbed your shoulders, his hands firm and soothing at the same time. His touch made you feel almost woozy, dreamy even in your unease. 

"I will make it simple: Tonight, you're my pet, sister, and I am your master. As your master, I will give you commands, and you will do them as perfectly as possible to please me. Do what I tell you, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and you will be punished. Ah, don't be afraid; I don't think you will disappoint me much, but..." Then he pressed closer to you, leaning in close to your ear so that you felt his breath caress your skin, "I confess I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spanking that plump bottom of yours." His hand slid down and grabbed your ass before giving it a playful swat. You blushed. You felt the arousal rise in your core again. It flooded in, threatened to sweep you away in its erotic current, and you lowered your head, overcome by shyness. Copia lifted your chin and shook his head at you again.

"No. None of that." He admonished, "I want you to keep your gaze up and your manner attentive. And don't hide your body. I have been fair enough to let you keep your underwear on. Now let me see you." He took both your wrists and forced them down to your sides, then prodded your shoulders so that you straightened your back. You stood erect and grew embarrassed now that your posture didn't hide you. Copia nodded in approval, "Yes, much better."

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking every inch of you in. You wanted so desperately to cover your stomach, your chest, to tear off the collar. Of course, you didn't dare any of it. You couldn't imagine what he would do to you if you were foolish enough to disobey him again; you didn't even want to think about it. 

For a moment, Copia seemed to be thinking, then he smiled. His eyes gleamed like gems in the lamplight. He took the leash and wrapped it around his hand a few times to make it short.

"Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there. And open your legs wider." He said, then nudged your feet apart until they lined up with your shoulders. You kept your hands behind your back as commanded. It was worse than keeping your hands at your sides. This position arched your body a little more and forced your breasts out. You felt dreadfully exposed, and what was even more excruciating was having your legs apart. But what could you do other than what was commanded? Could Copia be so cruel as to punish you even if you threw yourself at his feet and begged for his mercy? You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk it. He would have his way, and there was nothing you could do about it. Then you wondered, did you even mind? The pleasure that had built now ebbed away slightly, but it wasn't far from reaching you again. If Copia touched you, it would surely wash over you again. Part of you wanted to drench yourself in that pleasure, to swim and melt in it completely. A corner in your mind wished with all your might that Copia would let you; the rational part of you recoiled at your desire, it being so undignified and sudden. You tried to let your head drop a little, and immediately Copia pulled the leash up with a quick tug that snapped it back in position.

"I said to keep your head up," He said, his voice low, menacing. His hand didn't drop or loosen the leash, so your head remained up. "I will not tell you again, sister. Now be still and don't move until I tell you to."

Copia gazed down at you with such ferocity that you stood rigid and kept your lips pressed together tight. The new Papa was frightening looking but very handsome in the dim light that made his face angular, his eyes even more smoldering. You marvelled at him for a moment, then with a shock, you felt Copia's free hand on you. You felt his fingers trail down the side of your neck and down to your breasts. He grabbed at your right breast, cupping it as if to feel its weight, then kneaded it slowly until it sent shivers through you. His thumb brushed over your now hardening nipple through the material of your bra. He did the same with your left. He then imprisoned the nipple and squeezed it rhythmically between his fingers before reaching for the other to give it the same treatment. A rush of shameful pleasure shot through you and settled between your legs, making your sex grow warm as if it could also blush, and you held back a moan with great effort. Copia pulled on the leash, making you lean slightly closer to him. 

"Kiss me," He whispered. As soon as he commanded, you moved to catch his lips in a deep kiss almost too quickly, still keeping your hands behind your back. Copia sucked at your mouth, then opened it with his tongue as his hand went between your open legs and, without warning, stroked your sex through your panties. You uttered a sharp cry against Copia's lips before you could stop yourself. Your body immediately acknowledged him with a twitch of your hips and a soft discharge of fluids while you struggled to swallow another moan. You squirmed, resisting the urge to close your legs with everything you had. Copia broke away from your lips to kiss your earlobe, then he nibbled at it as his hand continued to stroke you. His fingers moved in slow circles now, pressed harder until they found the sensitive mound of your clitoris through the moistening cloth. You gave a soft, open-mouthed gasp and your hips jerked forward in supplication. You wanted to grind yourself on his fingers, rock your hips for more, but the sheer gracelessness of it seemed too much for you. Besides, you weren't sure if it was something he would approve of or chastise, so you stayed as still as you could, your legs starting to shake under your weight. Copia pulled back and smiled at your flushing face, then pulled the crotch of your panties to the side and glided two of his gloved fingers along the delicate folds of your labia. The fingers teased at the moist lips and continued to massage your clit in more circles, even slower ones that drew out the sensation. Breathy moans spilled from your lips. The pleasure washed through you, mounting and mounting as he worked you. Beneath your ecstasy, you felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly you had become wet for him. It was forgotten in an instant once Copia slid a finger inside you, then a second. You shuddered and cried aloud. Your sex quivered at the sudden penetration, and your cry melted into a long, low moan. Copia kissed the corner of your mouth.

"That's it," Copia said softly, pulling his fingers out, then sliding them back in slowly. Then again and again. "Don't resist me. Be a good girl for your Papa." 

Your hips moved forward at the sound of his voice. Once so frightening, but now smooth and rich as velvet. He was so close to you now, and for the first time, you could smell his cologne. It was warm, spicy, and delicious to you, almost intoxicating. Your eyes stared through heavy lids at Copia's lips. They were full yet strong, set into a faint smile that struck at a cord of desire in you that made the penetration even more pleasurable. You wanted to kiss and kiss those lips until you had your fill. You felt your sex start to throb, and you began to gasp, but before it became too much for you, Copia dropped the leash, withdrew his fingers, and pushed you back, that seductive little smile still there. You let out a disappointed moan that would have been humiliating had you done it to anyone else. 

"That's enough for now," Copia said, "Get down on your knees." 

Your mind whirled as you let yourself float down until you sat on your heels on the floor, your legs still slightly apart. Your thighs trembled under you, and your throbbing craved relief. You kept your hands behind your back. You feared that if you let them fall to your sides, you would lose control and throw yourself at Copia in desperation. The only thing you allowed yourself to do was writhe, clasping your hands as tight as possible. You felt the wetness of your sex between your legs, sticky, slick, and hot. 

You let out a sigh, looking up at Copia, your lips parted, your body wanting more.  He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

"All fours." He ordered.

You fell onto your hands and knees. You arched your back, your buttocks lifted as if to be presented. Your body tingled in arousal at doing so, knowing that Copia could see you doing it. You wiggled your hips a little bit, and you were shocked at your own boldness. 

'Fuck it, I don't care. I don't care.' You thought.

Copia stepped forward, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. 

"Good girl," He said, and he crouched down to take a closer look at you, "Does my little puppy want more?" 

"Yes, Papa." You said softly, "Please." 

"Then I think you should clean up the mess you made." Copia held up the hand that touched you. The gloved fingers were still glistening with your juices. He touched them to your lips, and you took them into your mouth without a thought. You sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl around the digits. The taste of leather and your own fluids mixed with your saliva, and when Copia pulled them away, you swallowed. The flavor lingered, both tantalizing and odd to you. 

Copia stood and made an airy gesture to your bottom.

"Wag your hips for me." He said, and he laughed when he saw your face go red, "It's no use being shy now, sister. Unless you want me to take my belt off and make good use of it. You don't want that, do you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head. 

"That's what I thought. Now, put your face to the floor and swing those hips." 

Your face flamed as you lowered it until you all but kissed the floor, your ass high up in the air. You churned your hips and hoped it was pleasing. You felt Copia take the leash from the floor and give it a quick tug. 

"Faster. Arch your back more."

You lowered as you were told to do and arched your back almost uncomfortably, your cheek sealed to the floor. A groan escaped you at the touch of the cold stone on your chest. Then in utter submission, any sense of pride, if there was indeed any in the first place, left you, and you wagged your buttocks back and forth like an excited dog wagging its tail for its master. Above you, you heard the creak of the bedsprings as Copia sat. You felt another tug on the leash, and you lifted your head. Copia sat back on the bed with his legs spread apart, the bulge of his erection in full view. Your sex seemed to swell at the sight of it. 

"You please me very well, sister," Copia said. He tugged on the leash again to bring you forward. "No more playing. Come here, let Papa reward you." 

"Papa..." You whispered. You hurried to him on your hands and knees. You kissed the tops of his shoes on an impulse, then his ankles. Copia didn't protest, so you kissed his knees and dared to run your hands along his inner thighs and kiss them as well. His thighs were rather shapely and solid under his clothes, pleasant to touch. When your hand rubbed over his groin, Copia let out a soft moan. Encouraged, you leaned over and kissed the waist of his pants, still rubbing the bulging sex. 

"Undo them." Copia's hand stroked your hair.

You didn't hesitate to undo the button and zipper of his pants. And now you were staring at his cock through his boxers, a small wet spot formed on the dark cloth. Again, you leaned down, placing a little kiss there, then you darted your tongue out and licked it. The hard cock twitched in its prison as if it asked to be free. You looked up at Copia with lustful, inquiring eyes, and you were delighted when he nodded at you. 

"Yes, cara. You can touch it." 

You pulled the elastic fabric down until his cock sprung free from its confinement. It stood tall and thick. A bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and you stared at it, surprised by its length and size. You took it in your hand, stroked it, felt its hardness and warmth. You couldn't help but wonder if the others knew Copia was quite well-endowed. You caressed the shaft up and down, tightening your hand every so often at the base of Copia's cock. Copia moaned as you did so, his head lolling back slightly. Your heart fluttered in your chest. It felt good to know that you gave him pleasure, that you pleased him enough to avoid his wrath and to even reward you. What an honor this must have been! A ripple of relaxation washed over you. You closed your eyes and took the tip of the cock into your mouth, suckling on it before taking it deeper in.

Copia gasped above you and bucked his hips. The action drove the shaft even deeper into your mouth, and you sucked on it hard, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. It nudged the back of your throat, droplets of salty liquid mixed with the taste of his skin. Copia's thighs shivered, and his breath quickened. You moaned as you continued to push up and down on his cock until his hips started to shake. 

"Fuck, sister," Copia grunted, "That's enough!"

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. He didn't pull you hard enough to hurt, but you still gasped once you felt the fingers grip your hair. When he released you, he motioned for you to stand. You obeyed.

"Take everything off and lay on the bed." He told you, almost breathless. 

The collar was the first to go; you unbuckled it and threw it aside, happy to be rid of the awful thing. You unclasped your bra and let it slip from your shoulders. Though the air was cool on your now naked breasts, your nipples grew hot and erect. A sudden, inexplicable desire to entice Copa came to you as you lowered and stepped out of your panties. 

'Do it.' Your lust-clouded mind ordered you, and you did. 

When you straightened, you locked eyes with Copia as you ran your hands over your breasts, pushing them together and biting your lip. A dark look flickered across Copia's face, and he stood with a low growl. He snatched your upper arm and yanked you to him. 

"You dare tease me in my own room after I've given you an order?" He hissed, then gave a wicked smile, "You must like being punished, sister. But we will save that for another time." 

He turned to fling you down onto the bed. You fell back onto the mattress; the sheets and coverlet were soft and plush underneath you. You had little time to enjoy it before Copia descended on you with rough kisses, his hips grinding against yours, his cock prodding at your thigh. His hand grabbed and kneaded your breast hard. But you wanted him so badly that you scarcely noticed how tight his fingers dug into your flesh. He then gave it a cruel slap that drew a loud moan from you. It was an exciting mix of pain and pleasure, and you wanted more.

"Again." You pleaded. You arched your back to offer your chest to him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Copia rose from his kisses. It was his turn to lock eyes with you as he lifted his hand and struck you again, just a little bit harder than the first time. You whimpered and squirmed underneath him. Copia positioned and moved his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed along your slick pubic lips, grazing your sensitive, engorged clitoris. You strained against him, tried to rock your hips to feel more of that rigid member. Copia looked amused by your torment. 

"Tell me what you want." He leaned down again and sucked at your nipples, bit at them playfully with his teeth. Your hands went to cradled his head to you, little sighs and moans leaving you unrestrained. 

"Fuck me." You murmured into his hair. 

As soon as the words left your mouth, Copia rose, brought his cock to your opening, then drove it into you in one fluid motion. You cried out. Your head fell back, and your body seemed to explode in pleasure. His cock was a thick, piercing thing inside you, bathing in your juices as he drew back and plunged into you. His thrusts were brutal, delivered in almost snapping motions that made the bedsprings creak under you. You heard yourself unleash loud, guttural moans with each solid thrust, wholly overcome by denied passion. Copia buried his face in your neck, his breath making the skin hot as he panted. The agonizing pleasure rose in your core, swelling, ready to erupt in a shower of sparks behind your skull, in your loins. Then all at once, your wet sex tightened around Copia and throbbed violently until you were all but screaming in ecstasy. You clutched Copia while the spasms rolled through you, and you let your legs spread wide, allowing Copia to slam into you unhindered until he also gave a small cry and shuddered above you. Hot, gushing fluid flowed into you and lay you back with your chest heaving in gasps. 

Copia pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him; his features were soft-looking, almost angelic in their exhaustion. His eyes drooped closed, his forehead glistened with sweat. You brushed his disheveled hair back, leaned close, and kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness on your lips before pulling away. Copia opened his eyes, gazed at you lovingly, then took you and cradled you to his chest. The fabric of his suit felt luxurious on your naked skin in the afterglow, and you snuggled close to it, sighing. You both stayed that way for a few minutes, with Copia threading his fingers through your hair. You yawned, and your eyes started to feel heavy.

"We can't fall asleep," Copia said, shaking you a bit to rouse you, "I've kept you here long enough, and the other sisters must be out of their minds with worry by now." 

"Yes, Papa." You nodded, sat up, and winced a little. Your privates ached from their hard riding. You tried to hide it, only making a slight noise in your throat. It seemed you couldn't fool Copia, however. He also got up and rubbed your lower back, kissing your cheek.

"Was Papa too rough with you, cara?" He asked. You shook your head. 

"No, Papa, I'll be fine. It'll pass." You reassured him. 

"Alright, but I will have Cirrus check on you later tonight anyway," He patted your hip, "And what happened here must be a secret. You know this, right? Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and march you through the grounds. It's a little, eh, display, you could say, that I've come up with to officially demonstrate my authority to the others. I have yet to put it into practice, and It'd be unfortunate to have you be its first victim." 

You bowed your head, not in fear, but again in reassurance.

"Yes, Papa. I won't tell anyone." You said obediently. You crawled out of bed and gathered your clothes. Copia zipped and buttoned up his pants, then stood as well and straightened his hair. 

"Good. Now, get dressed and get back to the convent. Tell the Ghouls to run you a bath when you get there. Say it's my orders, and they'll do it." 

"Okay." A bath sounded lovely to you as you redressed. If only Copia could join you...

"And sister," Copia's voice came low, playful. You turned, and you saw his eyes gleam at you. Your pulse quickened.

"Yes, Papa?" You asked.

"Don't forget that I said I would save your other punishment for next time." He winked at you, and your heart soared. 

"I won't." You smiled. 

"Good girl."

You bid him good night, then left his chamber, secretly hoping that that time would be soon.

[elysianslove]

hi !! i am in love w ur writing omg <33 can i req hcs of miya twins && suna w a crush who is in the girls ( or manager of the boys team if u only do gn!reader hcs ) vball team of inarizaki and they share the same bus or sumn when theyre traveling to another school ? thank u <3

hi hi hi!!! thank you so much <333 and i write fem!reader, hehe, so i made her part of the girls vbc! i hope you like these <3

miya atsumu 

i firmly believe none of the hq boys would be picky about the girl they’re dating. like yeah they all say certain traits they want but when it really comes down to it and they are dating you, they won’t be upset if you don’t fit certain previous criteria of theirs 

that being said, tsumu would absolutely lose his shit if his girlfriend also happened to be a volleyball player like he’d be convinced it’s fate or something

like he wouldn’t crush on you because of volleyball, he just thought you were a really pretty girl he’d constantly see in the halls and stuff 

and listen! he really was planning on asking you out

except asking a girl out has never been so nerve-wracking. like he’s never, ever felt this nervous about it?? and he’d keep chickening out every time he saw you

fast forward to you guys having to travel to another prefecture for a game, and it just so happens that the boys’ basketball team also had a game out of town. between the teachers and coaches, they decided since both the boys and the girls’ volleyball teams were going to the same prefecture, you’d just take the bus and make due 

the bus isn’t small, but y’all are a lot, so it’s a bit of a mess when you’re climbing on 

somehow, someway, you find yourself sitting next to miya atsumu 

pls he will never stop talking about how you two were meant to be after omg 

imagine his shock when he looks up from his phone and he sees you sitting next to him his brain literally goes ???!!@#$#&^$#&%(&

you just smile at him sweetly and say, “i hope it’s okay that i sat here. there’s not really anywhere else.” 

he can’t really speak. no like he really can’t. he’s. starstruck? just completely gone. you’re just so pretty and now he gets to sit next to you for the entire ride? he’s thanking everything holy

samu smacks him on the head because he still hasn’t replied to you and you’re starting to look a little saddened 

“uh, yeah, yeah, s’fine, yeah.” i’m telling y’all he’s secretly a complete dork. 

at first he doesn’t really know what to say, he just knows that he really wants to talk to you, like badly, and finally his brain catches up to him and he asks you about volleyball. you two spend nearly the entire ride talking about the sport

his heart would not stop beating insanely fast the entire time 

so y’all arrive, and you’re about to head off to the girls’ gymnasium when he stops you. you’re kind confused but you don’t stop him bc !!! hello !!! attractive !!! and kind !!! and interesting !!!

and omg you don’t think you’ve ever seen miya atsumu flustered before, and apparently neither has his brother or his friends because they’re in the back just snickering to each other

and finally, he manages to ask, “do you like, wanna hang out? soon? tomorrow?” 

it makes you giggle how red his cheeks are 

the relief that floods him when you say yes is unbelievable 

he wishes you good luck with your game with a kiss on the cheek that shocks everyone because what a contrast to the person he was literally a minute ago 

just v briefly: y’all are THE couple. you know what i’m talking about right? imagine just him being at your games and cheering you on the loudest, kissing you fully on the mouth after disregarding any rules in place, or the opposite, of you cheering him on his games and just jumping at him even though he’s really sweaty and hugging him so tight with your legs wrapped around his waist

no please don’t think about going to the gym with tsumu, where he makes you cling onto shirtless him as he’s doing pull ups and you kiss him every time he lowers himself, or practicing volleyball with tsumu, where he’ll serve a ball onto your ass and have you chase him around the gymnasium until he lets you jump onto him and you both fall on the ground

and no! don’t you dare consider practicing serves with him and it being a competition until you’re both so spent and breathlessly lying on the cold ground next to each other or how proud he is every time he sees you finally achieve something you’ve been trying really hard to perfect —

good bye 🏃🏻‍♀️

miya osamu

okay different from atsumu, osamu knew you were a volleyball player, and he realized he had a crush on after watching you play once 

your gymnasium, the girls’, was up for inspection but you had a game against another school so you’d borrowed the boys’. the whole boys team decided to stay and watch and holy shit was he impressed. your team won by a landslide, and it was clear the rest of his team was also impressed by the way they were all speaking about you

after that, you kinda stood out to him more? like, before he wouldn’t really notice you, but now anytime you were around or he heard your name or you were mentioned or he heard your voice he would kind of perk up and his heart would beat a little fast 

he was like fuck 😃🔪

you didn’t really share classes with him so it wasn’t too difficult to avoid you until his little crush had wavered 

yeah until god himself seated you right across from him on the bus while both your teams were on their way to a different school. it’s not that there wasn’t a bus, the coaches were just lazy and decided to combine you both since you were headed the same way anyways 

the entire time he wouldn’t stop staring at you while you chatted with your friends and with some of the boys from his team. you just seemed so. magical. he hated it. why were you so perfect

atsumu was asleep for half the ride so he only made fun of him for the other half. it was v humiliating. 0/10

he thought he had been soooo slick lmfao 😹

he was not

samu’s generally a slick guy but. not right now he wasn’t. not with his crush he isn’t

so when everyone steps off the bus and he’s like stretching out his limbs from being seated for really long, he feels someone tap on his shoulder, so he spins around and sees you and honest to god his blood runs cold

you had a really sheepish smile on your face like you were ready to embarrass him and when you said, “hey i noticed you staring,” on god he wanted to die.

but then you noticed his pale face and quickly went, “no, no, i think it’s very flattering! and i’m hoping it means i get to take you out?” 

cue tsumu’s cheering in the back he is so obnoxious bhjdbcdbjc

samu’s mouth is moving but his brain isn’t really working he just likes to thank god that he said yes and didn’t say anything else 

this time, you wish him luck with a kiss on the cheek and he really hates how his entire body is just heating up right now so on the outside it looks like he’s not enjoying this in the least, but trust, his heart says others

that was the most nervous you’ve ever been but he doesn’t need to know that 

on the bus ride back he invites you to sit next to him in the back, and you’re both a little shy about it all but you make conversation and somehow it ends up with him telling you he loves to cook, which leads to the promise that he’ll cook for you one day

it’s a very sweet conversation where you’re both really excited but you’re also a little nervous about it all

again, briefly: if we’re going with you being a wing spiker like him, then training with samu is so fun. he loves to toss the balls up higher and higher knowing you can’t reach them, until one day you shock him and the ball goes smack on the other side of the court and damn he just fell in love all over again.

tsumu practices with you two sometimes and nine times out of ten he’ll make samu think he’s tossing to him then toss to you instead. 

you’d think he’d be quiet and calm while he watches you play? absolutely not he is the loudest. it’s okay you luv him <3

omgomgomg meeting up with samu after both your after school practices are over and you just walking home alone in the quiet and you’re both munching on some snacks and it’s so serene and your hand is in his and you’re swinging your arms playfully and it’s just so

sigh 

remember that promise he made to cook for you? every weekend without fail, since he usually wakes up before you, he makes you breakfast, leaves his home, and wakes you up with a little box of your favorites. the tradition never falters. every weekend you wake up to his beaming face with a steaming box of breakfast. husband material 

suna rinatarō

with suna, you two briefly knew each other

you shared class with him, and sat quite near him so you were like sort of acquainted with each other. i feel like suna’s not too big on speaking with strangers not because he’s introverted but because he just doesn’t wanna waste his time

he does speak to you from time to time though, mainly just to ask about class or homework or exams 

he didn’t know you were on the girl’s volleyball team though, so when you walked onto the bus, and he spotted you, he was really confused. when you spotted him back and waved at him with a bright smile his brain went uh oh

and then you walked closer to where he sat and his brain went UH OH

and then you asked to sit next to him because you’re all the girls are scattered everywhere and aside from them he’s the only one you know here so he just shrugs and goes yeah sure 

his brain is going uhohuhohuhoh repeatedly though he’s just exceptionally good at not showing it 

you don’t really talk as everyone settles down, each of you is busy looking down at your phones, but when the bus starts moving, suna takes out his headphones and 

he offers one to you 

vdhjsdshfkwhhesajkdhksf

ok im good 

you’re a little taken aback but you accept. the entire ride you two don’t talk, you just listen to music together, and occasionally he hands you his phone to choose a song, and somehow, in the middle of all this, your head fell on his shoulder and his head rested on yours and it was really comfortable and good god does he have a crush on you

when you take out your phone and open instagram/snapchat and start messing with the filters, taking snaps of him and making faces with him, and he gets to hear and feel your little laughs he realizes yeah, maybe he does have a tiny crush on you 

tiny 

minuscule

you skip away from him after stepping off the bus with a yell of good luck. he makes time after his game to go watch yours and he is thoroughly impressed by your skill. decides maybe it is not as minuscule as he thought.

the boys are on the bus before the girls, so when you walk in, he waves you over and points at his headphones, which makes you laugh a little and rush over to him. this time, he doesn’t wait for the bus to start moving before he hands you one earbud, and just like before, your head rests on his shoulder throughout 

middle of the ride, he opens the notes app, and types, ‘you’re really cute,’ while showing you the screen 

you take the phone from him and type back, ‘you’re really pretty.’ 

and then a conversation carries like this until he just straight up goes, ‘wanna go out with me?’ 

this time, you don’t take the phone from him. instead, you sit up a little, press a kiss to his cheek and whisper, “yes.” 

it only shocked him a little a lot

as soon as you’d said that, he relaxes a bit, and as you’re going to rest your head on his shoulder, he brings an arm around you, hugging you closer to him i am going to Scream

briefly: please, imagine just how encouraging it is for suna to see you in the stands at any of his games like it just gives him that necessary boost  and whenever he wins he just cups your face and kisses you so passionately yet serenely and there’s that small smile hidden in the kiss only you can feel and tell of

or just imagine you and suna relaxing after a long day of practice in a bath together or you completely drained snuggled in bed as you lazily and sleepily pillow talk 

or oh my god, suna coming before a game and helping you do your hair in a braid or anything that will keep it out of your face because he has a little sister and he’s just so good at it and all the girls are fawning over how he’s sitting on the bench with you kneeling between his legs and he’s just working diligently at your hair and once he’s done he just gives your head a little pat before leaning over and kissing your cheek like “all done babe good luck” 

or suna watching smugly as you absolutely destroy your opponents or if you ever play with the boys how you never go easy on them and he just 

heart eyes <3

end note; im sobbing im this 🤏🏼 close to losing my mind why are they not REAL 

[nndefunctlolgoawaypls]

i was wrongfully harassed by several accounts over the fact that my snake I shipped (named Arson) to a very lovely person who wanted to take him in made some posts suggested I scammed them out of $100. but that isnt the case and we worked out details privately. Long story short the delivery truck transporting Arson was involved in a highway wreck, rerouted to another city and his shipping box was wrongly packaged with all the non-live animal shipments on that particular truck to a storage facility/local PO. Idk why they didnt have him in a temperature controlled van or truck or whatever when I paid $53.47 for overnight live reptile shipping but whatever i dont work in a PO thank god. so anyway please disregard any further posts on the subject as i have always been a very private person who wants my privacy back since the matter is settled between me and the other party involved. If Arson is alive then they are coming to pick him up in person to avoid anything like this further. Im also trying to pay back the $100 anyway since there's a chance right now hes dead in storage and I feel its very wrong to take money without handing over the final product (what people sent me death threats over and accused me of doing) etc etc. So that all said I'm not making any other donation posts or rehoming posts on Tumblr either for my mental health should something like this occur again and the information gets twisted into something it just isnt by random followers of the main ppeoole involved, yknow before its all on the table by all parties, which I fins weird because i NEVER, EVER assume guilt (though perhaps I'm too navie idk). I think it was a mistake at all to try to rehome a live animal on this site and im sorry for any drama, hurt, or anything else I caused in this intentionally or not. It isnt my fault the PO didnt immediately inform me the truck wrecked but Its my mistake for not sharing that I didn't know what was going on with his shipment before it got out of hand.

I wont be posting here again either, I'm not "running away from drama" so mucb as I have servere PTSD and shit, and I cant really find peace on a blog I got sent multiple very highly specific death threats and messages to. And was told I hope I do end up homeless on, after I have been traumatized by being homeless as a kid And as an adult. So its a tough decision but a final one, this blog will be deleted soon ✌️

Peace out, I wont be around and you'll never find me unless you know me