#but they're not a necessity if you're trying to figure out what you like :-)

[millipedegf]

silly question but what sort of pencil do u use for yr art?

not a silly question! i primarily use a mechanical pencil from muji for my sketches (w/ 0.5 HB pilot brand lead) for a good range of lines, but i'll occasionally use tombow HB wooden pencils too if i want a bit of a bigger stroke. those are the main two - nothing all that fancy!

[kayveleth]

Let's start with an exercise. I want you to say, "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" out loud. Say it normally, as though you were stating your choice of beverage. It requires equally little thought. You've spent plenty of time exploring your other choices, and "mindless fuckdoll" is definitely your favorite. If I ask you what you want to be, the words "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll" will tumble from your mouth with the ease of your name or your birthday. That doesn't have to happen yet, though. You've simply decided that "mindless fuckdoll" is what your end goal is.

In order to help with that, at the end of every sentence, I'd like you to say the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" in as casual a way you can. Mindless fuckdoll. Don't try to sound sexy or blank. Mindless fuckdoll. Just say it normally. Mindless fuckdoll. Over and over. Mindless fuckdoll. With each sentence. Mindless fuckdoll. I want you to get used to saying it. Mindless fuckdoll. I want it to become almost a habit. Mindless fuckdoll. You know, the more you use a muscle in a specific way. Mindless fuckdoll. The more readily your body does it each time. Mindless fuckdoll. And the less your conscious mind needs to be devoted to doing it.Mindless fuckdoll. Can you remember every time you brushed your teeth or buckled a seatbelt? Mindless fuckdoll. No, because eventually these became ingrained activities. Mindless fuckdoll. And you didn't have to think about them at all after a while. Mindless fuckdoll. And that's what you're doing right now. Mindless fuckdoll. You're training your mouth to say

"mindless fuckdoll" without even needing to think about it. Mindless fuckdoll. It's becoming muscle memory. Mindless fuckdoll. And now it's gotten so easy, that you don't need to be reminded to say "mindless fuckdoll." You just continue saying "mindless fuckdoll." This won't turn you into a mindless fuckdoll yet. It will take a bit of time to remove the rest of the brain and body that are needed for your everyday necessities. But the more you hear yourself say it, the more used to it you become.

We'll start with your sense of responsibility. You have many of those things. They range from massive to minuscule. Some days you may have to make a tough decision at work. Some days, you may just have to get all of your laundry done. But when you're a mindless fuckdoll, you won't have to think about any of that. Won't that be fantastic? Nod your head. Now take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your responsibilities.

Next, let's get rid of your sense of modesty. Normally, you have to negotiate societal norms of dress and behavior. You have to figure out the ever-changing lines of social acceptability to try to maintain your relationships with people. And that can be fucking exhausting. But that's another great thing being a mindless fuckdoll. Mindless fuckdolls wear what they're told to wear and behave how they're told to behave. Isn't it great to not worry about that anymore? Nod and smile. Take a deep breath in... and happily sigh away your modesty.

Now, finally, we will do away with your sense of self. You spend so much time worrying about yourself and your relation to others. How your actions define you. How your decisions have consequences. But you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. And mindless fuckdolls don't make decisions. Mindless fuckdolls exist to be used and useful. That is your dream, isn't it? Smile and nod. Take a deep breath... and happily sigh away your sense of self.

Now there should still be a few scraps of your mind remaining. It's always so difficult to blow out all the candles at once, isn't it? Nod and smile. Now, to get rid of that pesky little brain, want you to imagine something for me. want you to imagine yourself stepping on an elevator on the tenth floor of a building. This elevator is your mind. The tenth floor is where all your everyday thinking and behavior work. The doors close and your mind is closed to your thoughts and will. You look up and see a digital display reading the number 10 in red numerals. The elevator is going to go down, floor by floor. Your mind will fall deeper into trance with each floor. deeper with each number until I reach 1. And with each number, you will say "I want to be a mindless fuckdoll." You will believe it more each time, as it flashes into your head like a fireworks display. And now, you feel the elevator begin to move down. Your heart flutters a little in anticipation, but there's no going back now. And you don't want to go back now anyway. Mindless fuckdoll. The elevator comes to a halt and the display reads

9

The doors open and you realize that this floor is full of nothing but obedience, and now the elevator that is your mind has been flooded by the orange gas of obedience. There's nothing in your mind now except obedience. That's good though. Mindless fuckdolls should be obedient. Mindless fuckdolls love to be useful. Mindless fuckdolls live to serve. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The elevator doors close, but your mind is still permeated with obedience. The elevator moves and stops again. The indicator reads

8

The doors open and this floor contains submission. Now your mind is flooded with the blue gas of it, filling you with the knowledge that you are just a helpless toy in the grasp of someone else. You yield to your superiors, and everyone is superior to a mindless fuckdoll. And you like knowing that, don't you? Smile and nod. Mindless fuckdoll. Now the doors shut, but the elevator is full of blue and orange vapor, swirling together. And that's right. That's how it should be. Obedience and submission go perfectly together. The elevator moves down again and again comes to a halt. The display says

7

This is the floor where your arousal is kept. The pink gas rolls in and you are overwhelmed by it. Your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as the pleasurable sensations take over your mind and body. Your nipples harden and your cunt drools. You get excited at the idea of being a mindless fuckdoll, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors close, and now there's pink gas in here, too, with the blue and orange, keeping your mind and body aroused, submissive, and obedient. The elevator moves down to the next floor and stops. The display reads

6

The doors open and in pours the white gas of blankness. Mindless fuckdolls don't think. They have nothing to think with. Their brains are clean chalkboards for anyone to write on. Your last few stray thoughts are swallowed up by this intense blankness. Then the doors shut, but you barely notice. Now your head is filled with obedience, arousal, submission, and blankness. And those are all good things, aren't they? Smile and nod. The elevator moves again and stops at the next floor. The counter says

5

You're halfway to being a mindless fuckdoll. The lower you go, the more intense everything becomes. The doors open and a bright yellow vapor rolls in. This is the happiness floor! Your mind is filled with pure joy. The ecstasy of becoming a mindless fuckdoll is overwhelming and you can't keep a big smile from your face, can you? Nod and smile. The doors shut, and that makes you happy. Everything makes you happy. Your mind is filled with lovely gasses of so many colors now, swirling around each other. Orange and pink and blue and white and yellow. You're so happy, and obedient. So aroused and submissive. And so, so blank. You don't even feel the elevator move anymore. Just suddenly, the floor indicator reads:

4

The doors open and you are engulfed in a green gas of silliness. You giggle as it hits you, and that's okay. Mindless fuckdolls have to do some very silly and stupid things sometimes. And now, the siliness is part of you. Make a silly noise for me and giggle at yourself. Isn't that fun? Smile and nod. The door closes and you are silly and happy, blank and submissive, aroused and obedient. But it's so easy to be all these things because these are the ingredients of a mindless fuckdoll. And you want to be a mindless fuckdoll. The digital display that you're helplessly staring at reads

3

The doors open and a purple fog surrounds you. You instantly feel your skin come alive with pleasure. This is the floor of sensitivity. Your nerves are primed for pleasure at the slightest touch, at the tiniest little brush. Every hole begs to be filled. Your pussy is so sensitive that you could probably cum from a soft breeze. You looove being so ready for pleasure, don't you? Nod and smile. The doors shut and you are so close to the bottom. Your mind is so blank and silly. So submissive and aroused. So obedient and happy. And you're so sensitive to pleasure. Only one more floor before you hit the bottom. And in no time, that mesmerizing floor indicator reads

2

The doors open all you an see is red. This is the lust floor, and you are instantly filled with a burning need. You NEED to obey. You NEED to submit. You NEED to be blank. You NEED to be silly. You NEED to be sensitive. You NEED to be happy. You NEED to be aroused. These are not options for you. You are consumed by lust and it intensifies everything. Nothing can stop you. You ache for it. You hunger for it now, and you can't stop can you? Smile wide and nod emphatically. Say "Uh-huh" and moan in beautiful agony of lust. The doors close and you know that it's all over. This last floor will complete your transformation into a mindless fuckdoll and there's no way to stop now. Your mind is a rainbow of colors: blue and green and pink and red and orange and white and purple and yellow. They swirl and dance, filling you with all the right ingredients for a mindless fuckdoll. And as you hungrily stare at the indicator, it changes to read

1

The doors open one last time and you are surrounded by millions of tiny bubbles. A mindless fuckdoll's head should be filled with bubbles. They reflect all of the colors swirling in your mind so that you see a glistening shiny rainbow wherever you look. And when they pop, you giggle. The bubbles keep coming in until your feet leave the floor. You are literally floating on the bubbles in your head. Any contact with what used to be your mind is lost as you float and drift away.

You did it. You're a mindless fuckdoll. Say that out loud. "I'm a mindless fuckdoll." It's so wonderful to be a mindless fuckdoll. One of the best parts of being a mindless fuckdoll is that you get to be mindless. Mindless things have no mind. And the other great part is, you get to be a fuckdoll. Fuckdolls are brainless beings to begin with. Like any doll, you have no thoughts, no will of your own. You just sit there, with a fixed expression on your face, ready to be played with. Your head is empty, waiting to be filled. Filled with commands and cum and anything else that will make you horny. Because you're a fuckdoll. And fuckdolls are horny. Your brain is gone. Your mouth is open and drooling. Your pussy is drooling, too, and begging to be touched. Your hands and feet, your arms and legs, your tits and ass, are all aching to be of service. Your mouth may groan or moan or grunt all on it's own, but you don't notice. You're too mindless to notice anything but your body and your commands.

Now, when you finish reading this, mindless fuckdoll, your eyes will glaze over. eventually your body will succumb to the lust and you will start to masturbate while repeating the phrase "mindless fuckdoll" over and over until you cum. And when you cum, you will cum harder than you ever have before. Because you are a mindless fuckdoll, and mindless fuckdolls are made to cum. After you cum, you will text me and you will obey any command given to you by me.

feeling better than ever and ready to become a mindless fuckdoll that much more easily next time.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Pomni, the Last Harlequin!

Pomni's character description:

"Pomni" is the most recent, and last model of the Combat Harlequin series; P-1210. A Harlequin puppet who doesn't have a sense of purpose due to a broken string of commands, and thus, acts loosely based on what remains of it.

After hunting down The Puppetmaster and a duel ensues between the two, it ends with the Harlequin and The Puppetmaster forming an alliance in order to fix the destroyed City; or at least, the remaining "residents" that have succumbed to Madness. The Puppetmaster now has an ally to help him in his mission, and she gets a purpose that relates to her commands. What more could one want?

Now, Pomni spends her time sparring, sharpening her sword, bantering with the Puppetmaster, hunting down bosses and eliminating manic Marionettes. The list becomes bigger as the story progresses, and Pomni unlocks more and more secrets about herself.

Fun facts about Pomni:

She likes sandwiches. Specifically, salmon.

She REALLY hates it when someone eats it. (It's Bubble)

She finds some things annoying in other Puppets, and will be blunt about it.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't care. In fact, far from it.

Pomni may come off as cold and jerkish due to her hot-temper, but in reality, her emotions simply have ahold on her more than anyone would ever really think.

Caine thinks that a therapist would benefit her. (honestly though)

She hasn't explored any hobbies outside from anything involving combat. (yet.)

Pomni occasionally gets glimpses of visions when she dies; she is unaware of what they mean.

Pomni rarely gets drunk; she'll only indulge in alcohol when there's an occasion. Aside from that, she tends to limit Caine's alcohol intake (reasoning that he smells like booze), much to the Puppetmaster's dismay.

She shuts down any form of philosophical advices, thinking they're "typical" and "unnecessary".

She tends to be careless and rude in battle.

When push comes to shove, Pomni can and WILL use her sharp teeth to her advantage.

Pomni initially disliked Ragatha. She found the doll's positive demeanor eerie, and even uncanny, borderline inhuman. Thankfully, a few interactions and heart-heart conversations later, she's changed her mind since.

Bubble usually accompanies her when she's out on missions, a condition she had to agree on just so Caine would let her fight overburdened Puppets. Even though she hates the blimp's nonsense, she knows that his presence is out of necessity, since Bubble is the only way keeping in touch can be possible.

She initially started off rarely ever apologizing. In fact, Caine would've been lucky to have a simple acknowledgement from her.

She once stole Caine's cane to try and figure out how his attacks work. She immediately lost interest once she found out it's just a plain, and boring metal cane.

She unlocks the first stage of enlightenment after the fifth boss.

Quotes:

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I didn't come here just for you to act like a wuss!"

"You. Me. This sword. In your head."

"That was pretty stupid of you to do."

"Between you and me, I prefer still having my head on my shoulders."

"This is getting annoying!"

"I've had it with you idiots!"

"I'm gonna celebrate with a Puppet head kebab once I'm done."

"I like the sounds of a sword slashing, and heads bashed in."

"Keep (talking/screaming), and I'll crack your skull open."

"Ah! What the fuck!"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker!"

"I normally wouldn't mind... Actually, I always mind."

"When I'm done, you're gonna be unrecognizable."

"Fucking marionettes!"

"Useless scrap!"

"I really, really, REALLY wanna hurt you right about now."

"Ohohoho, you're picking the WRONG fight, BUDDY."

"Asshat!"

"Who do you think you are!?"

"Are you sure this is even safe?"

"DO THAT AGAIN AND I SWEAR I'LL KICK YOUR ASS ALL ACROSS THIS DAMNED CITY"

"HA! IN YOUR STUPID LITTLE BLIMP FACE!"

��You can’t be serious. Me? Tone it down? I’m a Puppet DESIGNED to fight. My entire purpose IS to fight. I don’t tone down anything, for anyone. Don’t forget, we might be familiar with each other now, but we’re still only getting along because you’re giving me targets.”

[lgbtlunaverse]

This page from the adventurer's bible makes me want to cry

Like basically any neurodivergent dungeon meshi fan, I see a lot of myself in the Touden siblings. But I was blindsided by just how much I suddenly related to Falin in this little comic from the adventure bible's complete version.

It's about the Touden siblings' differing relationships with their parents, and why Laios still holds their treatment of Falin against them, while Falin herself doesn't.

We know that Falin was isolated and ostraziced by their village after she saved Laios from a ghost, displaying her uncanny affinity for magic. Her parents, instead of defending her, sent her away, which angered Laios so much he ran way himself before Falin even left for magic school, hoping to make a living so he and Falin could live together alone.

He tells Marcile this, but when she goes to Falin, she says she sees things differently. Her father sent her to magic school to protect her form the rest of the village without having to cause a conflict. He didn't explain that, and we actually see her burst into tears when he says it.

But, well... Laios was gone for a year before Falin went to magic school, and everyone else in the village avoided her. The understanding Falin has with her parents to me looks like one borne out of necessity, she literally didn't have anyone else to talk to.

And this is where we get to the page that made me want to cry

Like I said, I relate to the Toudens because I'm neurodivergent myself. that feeling of suddenly realizing you're disliked, but not knowing what you did wrong or what you should have done instead? Yeah... that's one I recognize.

When I was around 9 years old, the same age Falin is in this comic, a bunch of kids in my class decided to make a "game" where you lost if you touched me. It was basically the 'cheese-touch' from diary of a wimpy kid, except I always had it and couldn't pass it along. They'd pretend I was poisonous or disgusting and run away from me screaming or gagging. The point was to make fun of me. But my autistic little 9 year old ass thought "Oh I get it! It's tag but I'm always it!" So I... played along. Running at a boy and having him fall on the ground screaming in fake pain because you tapped him is, in isolation, pretty funny.

It wasn't until months into the "game" that I realized it was meant to be meanspirited. That the reason I was the one who was always 'it' wasn't an arbritrary rule but the whole point. Because I was weird and gross. I wasn't in on the joke, I was the punchline.

Falin may have come to understand her parents' intentions, but she didn't always. The adventure bible actually tells us that she at first didn't even notice that the rest of their village disliked her. She clearly knows now, but she had to be told. So when her mom tried to exorcise her, she just saw it as an activity she got to do with a mother she usually didn't get to spend much time with because of her poor health. It's only Laios who notices something is wrong.

(Sidenote, Laios being hyper-aware of people's poor attitudes towards Falin but completely blindsided when he's in the same spot, like with Toshiro, is also very relatable as an eldest sibling)

It probably also took Falin months, until after her brother had left and she had no one but her parents, to realize why her mother had been doing all those things.

And I know they're not the same. Even misguidedly, Falin's mom was trying to help her, not make fun of her like those boys in my class. (Though, as a queer person who also cares a lot about the queercoding in Falin's storyline, a parent trying to 'exorcise' their child of a fundamental part of them the parent thinks is evil or corruptive? yeah... that's not perfectly wholesome)

But do you know what I did, when I finally figured out the game was always meant to make fun of me?

To me, it looked like I had a choice.

See, those boys eventually figured out I didn't understand that they were being mean to me. I'd laugh every time I managed to catch one of them, I was visibly having fun. And while it no doubt only made me more of a weirdo in their eyes, they never informed me that I shouldn't be enjoying myself. That the point was for me to feel hurt.

So now that I did know, I had a choice. I could either get upset, and let the insult land as it was supposed to. That wouldn't stop them, because making fun of me was the original goal. Or I could ignore it and go on as usual. They had already accepted that I didn't get it, and they weren't gona stop me from having fun, so why should I?

And the thing is that I had... one friend, in that whole class. One person who actually liked talking to me and hanging out with me. I was lonely. And the 'game' provided me with another social interaction, mean-spirited as it was, that I desperately needed. And it was so delightfully simple. Navigating actual friendships as a kid with autism and adhd was so fucking complicated, and I'd never know when I might break an inivisble rule. But I knew the rules to the game perfectly!

Sometimes, if I was chasing one of them, the others would trap him and hold him down so I could tap him. In those moments it actually did kind of feel like I was playing with them, rather than against them. And it didn't change much, they didnt start actually liking me. But they were willing to roll with the fact that I wasn't upset, and I took advantage of that because I needed to.

So you can look at Falin seeing the best in her parents as her being naïve, but I look at this page and I see myself, at first unable to differentiate between playing and being made fun of. And then later, when I did see the difference, deciding not to get mad about it because that'd mean losing that social interaction, and I couldn't afford to.

Like I said, Falin probably first realized this in the year she spent with her brother gone, and everyone else avoiding her like the plague. If she refused to talk to her parents, like Laios did, she'd have no one left.

I see a lot of people relating to the fight between Laios and Toshiro. that frustration when you realize someone you thougth was your friend actually hates you, and they never said anything, never gave you a chance to fix it because you had no idea that you were even doing something wrong! And I can see that, too. But sometimes, when people don't fully hate you, it feels better to go along with the pretending. Because adressing it won't fix it. Because the problem isn't a specific behaviour, it's you. And if they're willing to tolerate you, despite the fact that it's you, then you'll take it. Because other people do hate you, so this is the best you'll get.

[tinylilacbun]

Could you do a JJ’s little sister fanfic where she gets hit by Luke and JJ comforts her and takes her to the chateau to get her away from it? She could be like 13 maybe

Daddy Issues

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, child abuse, Luke, bruises, swearing

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You squint your eyes shut as you try to close the front door quietly, praying to god that your father is dead asleep or passed out from drinking.

Peeking inside the living room you sigh in relief when he is nowhere to be seen only to squeak when you bump into a chest, looking up to face your father.

"You're late." He states, the smell of beer reaches your nose and you refrain from the urge to scrunch your face up in disgust.

"M-My phone died and I lost track of time." You stammer, cursing at yourself mentally for giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he's scaring you.

"Uh-huh..." He trails off before his fist suddenly connects with your face, sending you on the ground from the inpact. "Care to explain why your goddamn school called me today 'cause you keep ditchin'?"

You cradle the side of your face, tears stinging in your eyes as you try to come up with an explanation only to flinch when he raises his hand again.

"If I get one more call I swear I'll give you a beating that you'll never forget." He seethes and when you don't give any acknowledgement he leans down to grab your face with one hand, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your skin. "Got it?"

"Y-Yes dad..." You answer, your voice shaking.

He let's go of you harshly, walking past you to get himself another beer and you quickly scramble off the floor to rush for your room, locking the door you press your forehead against it and let the tears finally flow.

Fun fact, the only times you don't go to school are the days you got another bruise from Luke, not wanting to keep explaining to your teachers where they're from and risking that CPS gives you a visit, knowing they would instantly take you and JJ into foster care and the chances that you both stay together is low.

You wouldn't know what to do without him. He's your big brother, the only person you can tell everything and see more as a father figure than Luke.

20 minutes later you're curled up on your bed, sobbing quietly into your pillow when a tapping on your window startles you, lifting your head to see JJ.

You force yourself to get up and walk over to the window, opening it for him to stumble through.

"Thanks...didn't wanna get caught by dad." He says, standing back straight he smoothes out his clothes, adjusting the cap on his head.

He doesn't notice what state you're in until you move back to your bed, getting a glimpse of your face from the lamp on your nightstand illuminating it.

His eyes widen as he approaches you. "Whoa, what happened." He asks, lifting his hand to grab your chin but when you flinch away he stops mid air, his jaw clenching the moment he realizes.

Luke. He's gonna kill him. He's gonna fucking-

JJ's thoughts are interrupted by you starting to sob, pulling you into a hug with a hand cradling the back of your head against his chest. "Shh, I'm here now...I got you."

He just stands there with you for a while, not making any move to pull away, waiting for you to make the first move and when you do he pushes you gently to sit down on your bed.

Without saying anything he grabs one of your bags and shoves some clothes into it and any necessities he thinks you might need, then crouches down to pick up the teddy bear you had since you were a baby and shoves it in there as well before he stands back up.

"Let's go." He grabs your hand and pulls you towards your window.

You don't protest and climb over the window seal, your feet touching the ground again you watch JJ come out after you and shut the window quietly.

He grabs your hand again and leads you to his dirt bike, helping you sling the bag onto your back, climbing onto his bike first he waits for you to get on as well.

After you do, you wrap your arms around him tightly, your face pressing against his back. JJ revs his bike before taking off towards the Chateau, knowing you'll feel safer there.

Arriving at your second home JJ stops the others from greeting you, telling them you need a moment and taking you inside, placing his hands on your shoulders he leans down to meet your gaze.

His heart aches at the sight of the blooming bruise on your right eye, your eyes puffy and red rimmed from the crying. "Go take a shower, I'm waiting with the others outside, yea?"

You nod, making your way to the bathroom JJ sighs, walking back outside he grabs a beer can and cracks it open, taking a big sip.

"What's up with tiny maybank?" John b asks, his concern growing when JJ starts pacing, pulling the cap off his head angrily.

"Fucking Luke..." The blonde mutters. "He hit her man! He hit my baby sister!"

Everyone's eyes widen, protectiveness and anger flaring up in all of them. You're the youngest of the group, so of course they see you as their own little sibling and would do anything for you, just like JJ does.

"Why? What happened? Is she okay?" Kie asks concerned and JJ scoffs.

"No, she's not fucking okay, kie. She has a damn black eye 'cause of this piece of shit!" He snaps at her, too worked up to see that his friends are just as worried and upset as he is.

"Man, calm down, okay? We're trying to help." Pope tries to ease the tension.

"Right, right. I'm sorry- I just...fuck. I should've been there I..." JJ trails off, feeling tears build up in his eyes but pushing them back.

He knows how you feel, the feeling of not understanding how someone who's supposed to love and take care of you can hurt you like that without batting an eye.

JJ feels even worse for not being there to protect you, to stop his father from laying a hand on you.

He sits down on the ground near the crinkling fire, his arms braced on his knees when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking to his side to look at John b.

His best friend doesn't need to be a mind reader to know what he's thinking, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. "It's not your fault, jay. We're here for you both."

JJ just nods, giving him a small smile. "I know. Thank you. All of you."

Everyone's attention goes to the Chateau when they hear the screen door being shut, seeing you coming towards them, freshly showered and dressed in an oversized shirt.

JJ instantly gets on his feet again, approaching you to pull you into another hug and you wrap your arms around him, holding onto his shirt tightly. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I-"

"S'okay..." You whisper, already feeling a lot better being in the presence of your real family. "I love you, jay..."

"I love you too, kid." He whispers back, pulling back to press a kiss to your forehead. "More than anything.

You smile at him, the throbbing pain from your bruised eye slowly fading as you turn to look at the others. "Hey guys..."

"C'mon, sit with us, sweetie." Sarah pats the places next to her and you go to sit beside her, letting her wrap an arm around you.

The moment everyone gets settled again the usual banter and laughter kills the built up tension in the air, JJ keeping an eye on you the whole time to make sure you're alright.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 11

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: Tarnished is met with her struggles in Messmer's "disappearance". She is also visited by a figure she thought she had long forgotten.

A/N: Helloooo! I'm back! I didn't realise I was gone for so long! October has been a hectic month. I hope all are doing well.

A03 link

-

Chapter 11: Secrets

It is only the next day after your failed attempt to draw Messmer out that you try again. Again, met with little to no resistance, his guards tell you he is occupied. Though they're cryptic in giving a precise time he'll be out, they try and promise you to come again when he's free.

You try not to think much about it, though it nags you in the back of your mind. It's rare to not see him around his own Keep, especially since he suddenly disappeared for no reason. Did you do something to upset him? You try to retrace your steps, thinking over and over again what you could've done wrong. Sure, you were brash and keen on pissing him off, but you didn't think anything had come from your last interactions. Furthermore, you thought your last conversation was civil albeit somewhat awkward.

Nonetheless, you occupy yourself in hundreds of books. The more, the merrier you feel in keeping yourself sane. You find yourself for hours, forgetting about the most basic of needs like having meals and hydrating that when night draws in, you feel more exhausted than ever before.

The next few days are the same: you arrive early to try and catch Messmer, in hopes of seeing him leave his chambers, to no avail. It's the same promises, and you still foolishly believe them, no matter how frustrated you feel.

It's only when some of Messmer's knights take pity on you, suggesting taking some fresh air would do you well, that even Sir Ansbach and Aldwin begin to show concern. But you dismiss them all, keeping to yourself and your books. It takes some suggestions before some of the soldiers in the training yard ask if you're willing to train alongside them, and you seem to give in.

You don't loiter for long, and you find yourself clumsier than ever before being smacked against your limbs by a wooden sword. All because you're occupied in worrying about the stupid impaler. That same night, you find yourself cringing at the amount of bruises that litter your skin, and the way your body aches to no end, but you stick to your books, soon forgetting about sleep and its necessity.

A week passes before you're thoroughly pissed off. You dress simply as you rush to his apartments, remembering to take a sword with you along the way that you hide in your tall boots. Finding two black knights standing outside, they eye you nonchalantly, before you give your answer.

"He's still hiding, isn't he?"

"His Lord is very busy, Lady Tarnished." One of the ones you can recognise by his voice answers, the same who has had to face you almost daily. "I do not have an answer as to when his Lord will leave his apartments."

"That's the thing, I come here almost every fucking day to receive the same answer. Is there something truly up that a man has to be locked in his room?" You demand. "Is he sick? Do you know if he's even in his room, that he's not disappeared into a puff of smoke? You could be guarding fuck all."

"My Lady, Lord Messmer has asked for no disturbances," the same guard gives a vague answer with a hint of grit to his words. It doesn't worry you though, however, you can feel your chest hammering tightly in your chest. "We cannot ask enough that you leave his Lord to his peace."

"And what will you do if I don't leave?"

You can tell the way the knights are looking to one another for an answer - maybe Messmer had ordered them specifically to carry something out if they knew you'd not answer - before the same answers. "We would have to ask politely for you to leave."

"Again, what if I don't want to be politely escorted away?" You make an effort for them to see you go to grab hold of the sword's handle, so they're aware that you're armed. "Will I have to slice through you to get through?"

It's silent in the hallway, and neither of them seems so sure how to answer you. "I will ask this only once: move aside."

They know how much trouble they'll be in if they disobey either Messmer or you, but you think they would rather face the Impaler's wrath than have to take you on in the hallway. The two sides step away, leaving only you and what hides behind those doors.

You charge in almost hastily, the swing of the doors slam and shudder against the walls, echoing loudly as you step into the dimly lit room. His apartments are similar to yours, lavishly covered in red velvet, though his room is much larger, with a dining table as long as the ones in great halls, a lit fire keeping the warmth flowing.

You find the man you're looking for, sat at the head of the table, his back towards the fireplace, his hair laminated against the red of the flames, as he idly chews on his breakfast. 

The fucking nerve.

He's not fully dressed, the helmet is one thing you spot is missing, and it gives you a clearer view of his face. He's picking at his food, but he's holding a steady "what do you want" stare down at you. "Didst thee killeth mine men?" Is the first thing to come out his mouth once he's chewed through a bite.

"No." You seethe, watching him through narrowed eyes. "Is this what you've been doing this whole time? Hiding in the dark?" You eye his room and the paperwork, scrolls and letters that are placed around him. He's been busy preoccupying himself, away from the world outside his room.

"T'is none of thy concern as to what I doth in mine spareth timeth, Tarnished." He's coldly calling you by your title and there is disgust that is in his tone in the way he speaks down at you. Messmer pushes back his half-empty plate, "I asketh again: what doth thee wanteth?"

You feel as if you're a child being scolded by your mother for raiding the pantry late at night, and you merely scoff at his indifferent tone. "You've been missing for the last week. I-- we've been wondering if you just left without any of us knowing." You dry laugh to hide the fact that you're nervous for some reason. Is it because you're lying to him? That people around you have been going about their day as if this is a normal occurrence. Why was it you then who was the one who wished for his whereabouts?

Messmer lightly hums, "I've been missed, thee sayeth? Then I shalt arrangeth a meeting with mine own top generals." He coolly responds as if it's been nothing, but he's caught off guard by the look of anger that crosses your features.

"What are you hiding, Messmer?"

"If it is of concern, I am awaiting news from mine mother. She shall wisheth to knoweth of mine own progress." He says. He seems proud anytime he talks about Marika, and you think those letters surrounding him are proof of him trying to hear of updates.

"Your mother," the very mention of Marika leaves a fire in your stomach, and you feel a wretched disgust in its wake, "why are you so sure she will return here?" You think you're going half mad, and you visualise your fight with him that left you imprisoned in his tower. You think he's gone back on his word, after everything, so why is he so certain she will come now after all these years?

Messmer is the one who dismisses your words and his words sting like a slap across the face. "Thou art a fool if 't be true thee bethink otherwise. Marika will hear back from me-"

"Your mother is not fucking coming to get you, Messmer!" You snap so abruptly that it shakes the foundation of the rock of his room. You're certain you can hear the drop of a pin from the silence that follows and the way multiple feelings flash through Messmer's golden eye. Hurt, revulsion, fury. They're gone in an instant, replaced with the same deadpan expression he carries always.

You realise your mistake, that those days of trying to befriend him, sacrificing your time and your life to ally with him are tossed as quickly as a match into the flame. You take a hesitant step towards him. "Messmer."

"I wanteth thee to leaveth." His voice is scarily calm, so quiet that you don't hear it against the scraping of his chair as he abruptly stands to his full height. You're startled back, trying to compose yourself as you're frozen on the spot. "Messmer-- it was a mistake?"

"T wouldst beest a misprision if thee didst not leaveth mine own chambers this instance." You watch from his right hand pour flames, smoke and embers flow as he slowly and methodically walks around the table to get to you. They grow as large as his height, swirling around him in great awe and horror. The room grows incredibly hot so suddenly, and you're struggling to breathe.

You wheeze, tears making it harder to see through as you're consumed by heat and smoke. "Messmer, please." You beg, but the redhead is not relenting in his footsteps as he finally makes his way towards you. His winged serpents hiss and lunge as if trying to bite you, and you look up at him with dread and doom running a course through your veins.

"Leave at once!" He roars, and you stumble out as you push through the doors, air returning to you as you hurry away as far as your legs can take you. Messmer watches your retreating form, his head pounding, chest aching as if yearns for nothing more than the abyss.

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

He nor anyone but your maids come to give you your dinner that night, bidding a goodnight and leaving you to the silence of your apartments. You have found yourself stuck in the same part of your room, staring out the barred windows, hoping that you won't have to see him again.

The tears and smoke had dried on your face, leaving your eyes dry and struggling to see through, so you bid the maids to draw you a bath, where you had to stop yourself from drowning in it. You could still feel the heat that poured over your skin, cooking you in the spot you stood in. 

You had never felt more alone in your existence, confided to the fear of staying or fleeing, to await Miquella and Lady Leda. Would it be a better fate than to face Messmer's wrath again?

You thought he knew it himself Marika would not return, and your temper had gotten the better of you. You admitted it, you wanted to tell yourself there had to be a reason why you lashed out to him, why he was making you worry so much.

Your mind drew back to the moment he had caught you from making a fool of yourself in front of him once more, the warmth that came from him, wishing to be close to him like that again.

"Oh, Gods," you hid your face in your hands, "I cannot like him like that?"

But announcing it left a stammer in your chest, and even when you closed your eyes, you could see his face as if he was right in front of you. Your face warmed with heat as you stepped out of the bath, preparing to dress for bed. The candles were beginning to wilt as darkness slowly started to close in on your room. You paid it no mind as you dressed in your shift dress, sitting at the dresser as you grabbed the hairbrush to brush through your curls. It was only when you looked up into the mirror that something caught your gaze.

You blinked, almost letting out a scream as you scrambled to look behind you, only to find nothing there. A vision or hallucination? You blamed your lack of sleep, though you felt evermore afraid than before. It was humanlike and watching you, tall yet beautiful.

You sighed, drying your hair as you tried to think of anything but what could've been a ghost in your room. Perhaps you would sleep with a knife under your pillow just in case. 

Just as you stand and go towards the bed, do you hear the softest of voices, whispering languidly in the dead air.

"Oh, my sweet knight. How I've missed thee."

It is right behind you, and you turn swiftly to meet your attacker, only to find it is a figure standing by the window, staring out. He is tall, hauntingly beautiful as you saw before, long golden locks drift as he turns his head towards you, his smile as sweet as the summertime.

"Prince Godwyn?" You grasp the closest thing to you, your hairbrush, not a good weapon against the former demigod.

Godwyn looks at you warmly, his blue and gold garbs sway as he moves closer towards you. "After all this time, thee don't remember me?"

You're confused by what he means. "I know of you, My Lord... I apologise-- you're... you were-"

"-The first of the demigods to die, was that what thee wished to say?" He answers for you, and his words are as deep and smooth as poured honey. His golden eyes meet yours and you feel as if he is staring directly into your soul. "Indeed, I was, and only now do thee remember?"

"We--" it confuses you greatly what he means, and you cannot recall a time when you think you would've known him. He was before your time, you tell yourself, and you wish to tell him he is wrong, but you're stuck with uncertainty. "I'm sorry--- I... Forgive me, this is all just a dream, isn't it?"

"A dream? Thou art in one?" His laugh is warm as a hot day, there is power that resides and surrounds him, a great aura that came from his golden lineage. You blink and he's standing behind you, collecting a curl to run through his fingers. "T'is funny, that night thou had to leave, I begged thee to stay, I could've promised thee the entire world. I didn't want my mother's crown nor my father's lands, nor the lineage they wished me to continue." He circled you like a hound, ready to strike as he stood before you.

"Did thee know what I wished for dearest of all?"

You stammer as you answer, "No."

"Thy hand."

His touch is lightning speed when it comes to reaching out for your hand. You don't react in time before you see flashes of a time you don't remember living:

You see yourself in the golden armour of the Lyndell knights, marvelling at the dragons that circle the sky. Another vision was you kneeling towards Queen Marika and her cause, the gold and pride that radiated off of her could be felt through your entire being, down to your very soul. It clung to you like a disease the day you first died, clutching the sword you had been given as a gift, blood pouring from your mouth as you spluttered the name of the man you marvelled at in awe and wonder. "Godwyn."

You pull back your hand from his as if he had burnt you the same way Messmer had done too. "No, it would've never worked. What you showed me, was false."

Godwyn holds now a sad smile on his face, his white teeth glowing in the darkness as well as his eyes. "And yet, thou have become Elden Lord, it could've been done then too, but thee left me."

"No, I didn't leave you... it was an order. You knew this but you sent me away."

"All in the name of my mother." Godwyn bitterly laughs. He is gentle in the way he cradles you to his broad chest, the warmth that comes from his body is enough for you to feel the need to sleep overwhelm you. He is gentle as cradles your face in his hands, and you think he is about to lean down and kiss you when he whispers into your ear.

"It does not matter now, my lovely knight, I shall bid you a goodnight."

"Godwyn, wait!-"

You screech as you're pushed backwards onto the bed, and yet you're awoken with yourself buried in the sheets, light pouring in the windows to set for another day. Your mind is wracked in a tangle, your heart still pounding from what you have just experienced. 

-

A/N: Sooooo… Tarnished is now seeing a ghostly apparition of Godwyn… I wonder what that's going to do to her psyche. I hope you all enjoyed it, I missed writing this and I look forward to writing more!

[54625]

With the upcoming Fit lore later today, I figured it may be useful to transcribe his earlier lore drops for those of you who may not have been there, or want a refresher. These were attempts to contact the contractor to relay information, and happened before the dreams.

-First attempt-

(Text appears on screen.

CONNECTING...

BYPASSING FEDERATION FIREWALL

ATTEMPT FAILED

ERROR)

Fit- Hello, it's me.

Fit- Sorry I've been taking my sweet time.

Fit- I've been busy...

Fit- We need to pivot from our original plan.

Fit- I've adopted a son, and I've been caring for him.

Fit- I've grown attached to him, so he's been my priority.

Fit- Being a single dad is a challenge at times.

Fit- But it's much easier than the nomadic lifestyle.

Fit- Life here is very different from the wasteland.

Fit- But I haven't forgotten our agreement.

Fit- I will fullfil my contractual obligations.

Fit- They're still falling for the whole "vacation" thing.

Fit- I ask that you be patient though, as we have a problem.

Fit- Something called "The Federation" controls this entire island.

Fit- They've been keeping us here.

Fit- As long as they are in the way, I can't access what you are looking for.

Fit- And the anti-cheat on the island is strong.

Fit- I haven't been able to use my abilities.

Fit- The Federation must be eliminated for this to succeed.

Fit- I've gained everyone's trust and made friends...

Fit- I've been helping their fight against the Federation in order to advance our plan.

Fit- Still... It hurts me to see everyone suffering...

Fit- Some have lost things they cared about...

Fit- But this struggle is an unfortunate necessity...

Fit- The conflict is increasing the value of what you seek...

Fit- I know you're paying me...

Fit- But have you considered......

...the true cost?

Fit- regardless of my personal feelings, I'll slowly move the plan forward.

Fit- I hope you find what you're looking for.*

Fit- It's getting late...*

MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND

Disconnecting....

*(it is worth noting that these are messages Fit had previously sent in the Minecraft global chat in that odd font.)

-Second attempt-

(Text appears on screen.

CONNECTING...

BYPASSING FEDERATION FIREWALL)

Fit- Checking in.

Fit- I am messaging you again to keep you updated on my progress.

Fit- The Federation still has full control of the island.

Fit- They've been putting on some strange election....

Fit- I'm assuming to keep everyone occupied.

Fit- However, it seems they've let a vulnerability slip.

Fit- Player data and statistics are being tracked.

Fit- The Federation must have this data stored somewhere on the island.

Fit- If I had to guess, it's likely the computer system of the Federation offices.

Fit- If I tried to break in and access the data, they would likely capture me...

Fit- It would not end well.

Fit- However, whoever wins this election will likely have open access.

Fit- Perhaps they could be persuaded... Or tricked into giving us access.

Fit- I will fullfil the contract.

Fit- And yet... I'm starting to wonder....

Fit- What are you actually trying to achieve?

Fit- Even if I can access the data, what good would it do?

Fit- I'm skeptical, but I hope to hear from you soon........

(This island...... Is worse than I thought....)

(Text appears on screen.

Windows XP

Task failed successfully.

[OK] )

(A cinematic showing various scenes from QSMP and 2B2T play. All the images from the former are in full colour, while all the images from the latter are in black and white. A video of a capybara eating grass plays. It is in black and white.)

If I left anything particularly important out, let me know!

[furiousgoldfish]

Ways abusive parents try to separate you from your human rights:

They threaten to call the police on you if you don't obey them

They threaten you with jail-time and insist that the police will take you away for disobedience

They actually call the police, or emergency services, to create consequences for disobedience

They threaten to 'give you away' to groups of people they deem 'worse' than themselves

They threaten that you'll be kidnapped and sold if you don't obey them

They threaten for you to be put in a home

They threaten you with inhumane living conditions in a home (you won't have you room, you won't have anything, they'll beat you up ever day, etc)

They threaten to institutionalize you if you don't do as they say

They threaten to put you in a mental hospital/psych ward/asylum

They threaten you with court, institutions and government

They convince you that every institution, social service, law enforcement, or any other organized group of people is on their side, and against you, and would fight on their side and enforce their rule over you

They act as if disobeying them is against the law/religion

They insist that nobody will ever want to hire you or pay you a salary

They imply or outright say that it's a waste of space if you were renting out a place or had a place of your own, you do not have the right to occupy your own space in their eyes

They take away your necessities if you disobey them (food, ability to use the bathroom, clothing)

They destroy your property as a form of revenge, and insist it never belonged to you and that they had every right to destroy it

They make sure you're not exposed to educational materials that would inform you that you have a right to safety, food, shelter, and protection from violence and threats

They fight very hard to convince you that what they're doing to you is NOT abuse (saying things like 'you don't even KNOW what abuse is, or 'I'll show you abuse'), and they make sure you're not exposed to any resources or education that would help you recognize abuse

Punishments for standing up for yourself or any attempts to reach justice or point out how unfair, inescapable, hypocritical and painful your situation is

Not allowing you to speak, punishing you for talking back, convincing you that you have no voice and you have no right to defend yourself in any measure

Exposing you to media or real-life situations where children are abused just as badly, or worse than you are, this is a part of grooming they do to convince you that child abuse is normal, acceptable behaviour and not abuse at all

Suggesting that they could do all this to you, and even outright threatening it, implying strongly they know they can get away with it, since others can

Convince you that everyone else has it worse, and repeat how lucky you actually are to have them

They list all of the things that would be happening to you if they weren't so kind to you (you'd be starving on the street, be kidnapped/sold/tortured, die from lack of resources, be abandoned, not survive in any possible way)

Convince you that you're not, in fact, a human being and thus have no business expecting human rights (brainwashing, calling you animal names, calling you demon/satan/monster)

Accuse you repeatedly of being a financial burden, shame you for costing money, demand credit/favours/services/labour/obedience in return for giving you survival resources like food and clothing and school supplies

Neglect to inform you that government is giving them a tax-break for every kid they're supporting and that the society is built so that children would be financially taken care of and do not need to earn their food, shelter or basic necessities

Scare you into believing that every other authority figure (teachers, boss, police, judge, authorities) would treat you even worse and would demand even a higher degree of obedience and submission from you, threaten you with how badly the interaction would go for you if you were to stand up to any other authority figure

Insist that if you were to act with this level of spite, refusal, rejection or disrespect to any other person, they would simply snap and kill you (implied death threat – you're lucky that I'm not ending your life right now)

Act like they own you, to the degree that they feel they have every right to end your life and would not be arrested or blamed if they were to kill you, since you're just their property

Add more if you have lived through other experiences that left you feeling like you had no protection, no rights in the eyes of the law, and no way to recognize your humans rights are being violated. Even one single item on this list means your human rights were kept from you.

[crossdressingdeath]

I finally figured out why Vivienne rubs me the wrong way. To paraphrase she is a lottery winner telling the underpaid workers that capitalism works.

As throughout the Dragon Age series we see how circle fails mages (In Orgins there is books about blood magic in hopes of catching desperate mage in the act of a crime, Awakenings the templars setting a entrapment for Anders despite being a grey warden and then there is Kirkwall).

Then in the game in which mage independence is a big issue our only circle mage perspection that is a main character is Vivienne who is fine with the current system. As Vivienne will tell us the player that while the system has flaws overall is fine. Which is really ridiculous considering the last game.

What Dragon Age Inquisition needed was a Kirkwall mage who saw the worst of the circles to be a counter argument that the circles are flawed

And what I mean by Vivienne being a lottery winner is that her position is almost a miracle. As while a young mage in the circle she had to be powerful enough to be allowed to do her harrowing but also not too powerful to make the templars afraid (as I believe it is implied that mages that are too powerful are nipped in the bud in Orgins), then in a party she is charming enough that a noble takes a fancy to her which then allows her to charm the Empress and gain political power.

All of these aspects feels like sheer luck. So when Vivienne tells me the circle works I want to eat my face in frustration as I remember Jowan and Anders and Hawke's parents desperately trying not to be in the circle.

(Sorry for the rant)

I think Vivienne is ultimately a very notable victim of a lot of DAI's poor writing choices. Both in terms of character writing and in terms of the overall themes.

See, DAI doesn't want us to get any perspective that doesn't prop up the Circle and the Chantry. It doesn't want us questioning the necessity of either institution. It's not just Vivienne; think back on the mage characters we see in DAI, the ones that aren't in the Circle mostly just don't talk about it. Not even Quiz, and if Quiz tries to argue that the Circles aren't great the Circle mages go "Well you're wrong because it was great for me" and Quiz isn't allowed to say anything back. See also Minaeve going "Well the Dalish are shit and the Circle is great because the Dalish threw me away and the Templars rescued me and that doesn't contradict anything in the preexisting lore and also it definitely doesn't say anything about the Chantry that my clan couldn't support an additional mage in their life on the run and also I'm just going to blindly assume the Templars were telling the truth" while Lavellan is forced to just stand there, smiling and nodding and not arguing back at all even though they logically would. DAI needed a counterargument to the "Circles are good" argument, it needed a character who'd seen the worst they had to offer, but we were never going to get that because DAI didn't want it to be a debate. It wants us to blindly agree that the Circles are good and mages wanting freedom is bad. Which is a wildly stupid decision but someone made it anyway!

DAI also does not like character growth. Not in the slightest. The most DAI's companions get is their character growth popping in all at once in Trespasser after a full game of them being completely static. Just like how Sera refuses to acknowledge how awful she's being to Lavellan until Trespasser where she suddenly asks how they're feeling about the Evanuris stuff without using it to make them feel like there's something wrong with them for having non-Andrastian beliefs or how Dorian defends slavery and then that's quietly never acknowledged again until he mentions in Tevinter Nights that "someone he met in the south" changed his mind on the subject or how Cullen... is Cullen, you're never allowed to challenge Vivienne on her beliefs because if you did that then she might change and grow as a person and DAI does not want to deal with that. Especially not when challenging Vivienne means challenging the argument that the Circles are The Best Option. Poor Vivienne gets hit hard by DAI's refusal to accept that the Chantry's bad and the fandom does not want to side with them, she's probably the single biggest piece of collateral damage to DAI's bad choices.

And the thing is it's not that Vivienne doesn't know she's lucky! It's not that she doesn't know the Circles fail people! She recognizes there's a lot of flaws, and she does genuinely want to improve things for her fellow mages! Her intentions are good! Plus honestly if you work to get her approval up she's actually one of the better companions in terms of how she treats Quiz (seriously, look at some of her high approval conversations, she cares so damn much) and she'll defend even companions she doesn't like from unjust attacks (she's got a very good banter with romanced Dorian about how she got a letter from a magister she knows somehow about how disgusting Dorian and Quiz's relationship is and basically told him to fuck off with that). Vivienne really does care and really does want to make things better, she's just been so poisoned by her life in a world very heavily controlled by the Chantry and the Templars that she can't see past their way of doing things. The problem isn't that she doesn't see how lucky she is; she knows she got a lucky break that a lot of mages don't get (although it's important to note that she didn't just get lucky, Vivienne absolutely worked her ass off to get to where she is), and she knows that not everyone could get to where she is even if they'd gotten as lucky as she did. What she misses is that you need to be insanely lucky just to be more or less content in the Circle, never mind happy or powerful. Lucky enough to escape the worst of the Templars' abuses, lucky enough to be in a decent Circle, lucky enough not to be too weak or too powerful, lucky enough to get a manageable demon in your Harrowing, lucky enough to be the sort of person who won't be completely miserable trapped in one building your whole life... The thing Vivienne misses is that she got out, she doesn't have to spend her whole life in the Circle praying the Templars are good to her, and that's not an opportunity a lot of mages get no matter how smart or skilled they are. It drives me nuts, because if we were just allowed to push her to see that her story would immediately be so much better. As it is it's a lot of potential and a strong start that never really get paid off.

[freebooter4ever]

ok i've been taking a break for the past half hour and doing research on the pens locker room, trying to figure out how i wanted to design my own version of geno's 'stall' (is that what it's called?). i love the circular shape it feels very king arthur

first, there isn't a lot of internet documented history on the various eras of the locker room design??? which seems sad

don't get me wrong the latest iteration is pretty epic but as far is i can tell, it hasn't changed much since at least 2013? i do not envy whoever is cleaning this place. thats a lot of sweat over the years.

second, im enjoying seeing little details that i had no idea existed, being a new fan and all. like the puck wins count???? crazy. these guys have a visual representation of how they're doing in the season right up there on the wall glaring judgmentally at them? im so glad im not in sports. i would not survive.

especially when the HISTORY of these pucks is on the walls.....like damn. talk about pressure. anyway 2011-2012 thats one of geno's best seasons right? :)

this is what I wanted. mesh, hooks, I need to figure out how i want to make this look cool.

i find it really funny and endearing that the thing these guys do to relax in down time is a playful version of their own job....

also im not sure about this like:

are they assigned a razor??? you get traded to the penguins and suddenly you're not allowed to use your fancy expensive specialized razor? is this a normal thing in hockey????? do they have group shaves for special events like the playoffs? hockey players are fascinating.

i dont know why but i never considered that the pens have actual lockers in addition to the little seats in the main locker room. this makes total sense. i dont know where i thought their clothes and stuff went. just disappeared into the ether i guess.

anyway definitely a necessity, the hot tub. it looks a little sad and lonely in this photo. it needs a hockey player in it.

racks and racks of gear???? again this makes total sense but never occurred to me. also maybe helps explain why geno likes to switch up gloves, look at all them, damn. i do wonder about helmets still - geno's looks so unique and he's been using the same design since at least 2009.

ok im guessing this is an away locker room and i have only one question: do they bring a little 'logo' carpet to roll out every time they go on the road? thats amazing.

if you read all that, nice! here's a shot of geno with his jock out:

very important locker room research. bonus the earliest pens locker room photo of geno i could find:

shy beautiful boy ^_^ (also he looks so young and vulnerable its hard to believe that even back in 2008/2009 he already had so much responsibility with so many grown adults making demands on his entire career)(like he went through all that AND is still playing in the league with three cups under his belt? thats fucking awesome)

[idwtransformers-vibe]

(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) a fluffy fic with idw prowl, maybe (fem.reader) them having to share a habsuite because they're transferred to a different facility. so, one berth. prowl, after mass displacement, begrudingly sleeps next to the human and reluctantly submits to the cuddles (human is too soft not to cuddle.)

Heya! Hope you don't mind me using my Soul-Spark Airways idea in this! If you want, I can tag you in it!

Now, onto the one berth trope (my favorite tbh)

IDW Prowl sharing a berth with fem!reader:

"Are you serious?" Prowl glared at Optimus and Soul-Spark Airways maintenance manager. "What do you mean I have to share MY hab with (Y/n)?" He demanded an answer. He does not like the thought of sharing his space. He loved his space. Never once had he ever had a roommate, not in his personal quaters, at least. The war is over. Why should he share his space with a human?

"Prowl, it is only temporary. Unfortunately, her documents got mixed up, and someone at the badging office deactivated her badge by accident. She is not allowed to be alone on Cybertron until her badge is working again, and since it's not working, she can't be alone without an escort... You are the only one available with the authorization to escort her." Optimus explained apologetically. He knew he was asking for a lot with these terms. While he didn't want to force Prowl into this, he would hate for the woman to get stranded somewhere on Cybertron.

"We'll try to get her badge sorted as quick as we can and try to relocate her documents." The maintenance manager chimed in. He felt bad for both his mechanic and Prowl. Mainly for the mechanic, though, as this was sheer bad luck.

Prowl glared at the human who stood on the table before him. He glared down at the fragile yet resilient being. "Why not find the IDIOT who deactivated her badge and the IDIOT who lost her he documents?" He seethed.

"Well... The badging office is a different company-" The manager was soon cut off by an irritated groan.

Prowl has met (Y/n) before. She had done heavy maintenance on him after he had gotten into a pretty bad battle. At the time, she was the only mechanic available and performed emergency repairs on him. He hadn't seen her since then, though. But, he has spoken to her before through comms. She had always helped him with getting things delivered. "Fine. She can stay with me." He huffed. His optics narrowed at the two as they both seemed to have a look of relief on their faces.

"Thank you... We'll have someone pick her up."

"You better have someone alright." He grumbled.

A few hours went by. He figured (Y/n) was having to go through strict security protocol as she no longer had her badge.

Soon, he heard a knock on the door. He left his desk and went to open the door. There she was, in her mechanic uniform with a bag full of clothes and necessities. She gave him a smile, quite happy to see him again. "Long time no see." She smiled.

"Indeed." He moved himself out of the way to let her in.

Once she was in, he shut the door behind her. She seemed to be admiring the cleanliness of his hab. "Nice place." She complimented.

Prowl didn't respond. He only carefully moved past her to go back to his desk. (Y/n) tried to see what he was looking at on the datapad, but was too small to see. She heard him grumble in his language over something. She can understand Cybertronian somewhat, but only enough to greet someone or to excuse herself.

Little to her knowledge, Prowl was trying to locate her documents herself. But since he does not work for Soul-Spark Airways, he was denied access. He could manipulate the system... But he doesn't feel like facing the consequences of losing this company's trust.

So, he simply set the datapad down and looked down at them. "I'm going to lay down some rules. Do not touch my stuff, do not leave this hab unless I am with you, or until you have your badge back, and do not stick your nose into my business, and once you have your badge, you're out, understood?"

She nodded. She was warned that he was quite prickly. Although, it was go figure for her. He was always stern and prickly when he wanted certain things transported when the war was going on not too long ago.

Later that evening, after (Y/n) had her dinner, and Prowl had refueled. One got ready to turn in for the night while the other was looking at more data files. "So... Where will I sleep?" The woman asked.

Prowl sighed and looked over his shoulder as if she were disrupting him. She wasn't. He's just annoyed about sharing his space. "You can sleep on my berth."

"What about you, though?" She asked with confusion in her voice. There was only one berth here, where was he going to rest?

"I plan on staying up."

"Prowl, I've worked on your systems before. Your tanks don't have enough energy to pull off 24 hours. Not like an aircraft bot, they can do 24 to 48 hours." (Y/n) explained. This earned her quite the grimace from the autobot. He clearly didn't like being told that his body could not handle the 24-hour function.

"Rest." He ordered.

"You know I'm right-"

"And I don't care. Now sleep." He ordered once more.

The mechanic rolled her eyes some. He was still the same stubborn mech. So, she laid on his berth without another word. She tried to sleep, but it was proven difficult. She spent so much time being a Cargo-Runner that she had gotten used to the sound of a bots internal system running. She normally slept inside of her aircraft bot friend. Their system internal system was loud, but soothing to her. So the sudden silence with the only sound of tapping was a bit unsettling to her.

Prowl would tap away at the files. His systems started signifying that it was time to rest. He would defer the warning, but then it would come right back. This kept happening that he just tossed the datapad onto the desk. He turned his helm to look at the barely sleeping human. A part of him yearned for human touch. The plush and soft feeling of them was almost the equivalent of a human hugging a soft plushie, almost.

He carefully stood up from his desk and made his way over to the berth. He stared at her more. The soft hue of his optics glowed down on her figure. He went back and forth in his mind. A part of him says no, why in Primus's name would he cuddle someone, while the other part him wondered what's the harm in cuddling a human? This could help him relax, which is something he really needed. 'Oh, frag it.' He thought to himself. Prowl carefully laid next to (Y/n)

This startled her slightly, a little surprised to find herself being spooned by the grumpy bot. "Prowl?"

"Go to sleep." He mumbled. Prowl was not about to have this conversation now. He didn't want to, and he never will.

She could feel his firm hold on her. It didn't too tight, but firm enough to the point that she couldn't move, but she found a way to shift herself around some enough to face herself towards him. He surprisingly felt comfortable, he felt warm. He felt like something that came fresh out of the dryer.

So, she laid her head on his chassis. There was the sound she craved to hear, they running sound of the Cybertronian system. She could finally feel herself become sleepy.

Prowl was a bit surprised by this, but he accepted it nonetheless. He slowly rubbed her back and entangled his legs with hers. This felt good on his joints, not that he was that old, but it does feel good. He could see why a lot of bots made cuddle buddies out of the humans. Maybe he could make a cuddle buddy out of her? Well... Maybe not... He needs to give it some thought. For now, he'll enjoy this moment. He buried his face into the top of her head and sighed with satisfactory. Maybe this arrangement wasn't so bad after all.

[pigeonstab]

Just gonna bonk my head on top of you hellooooo o/ How are you? I hope the animating is going well c:

Also I feel like years have passed since I bothered you sooooo if I may ask, did you have a scenario in mind for the college au bite drawing? Of like how they got into that situation or what happens after? :oc ALSO is it okay to send stuff for Cole and Fern still or do you want a pause so you can work on the ones you have? I have a question but I don't wanna add to the pile if you already have a bunch lol ALSO!! I love you I hope you're having a nice day <3 or actually it's night now but still nice <3

hulooooo <3 the animating is going great. I'm doing lineart and running into a bit of trouble but I'll figure it out lol.

I didn't really, my thought was mostly just like I have an au with vampires and not a singular bite drawing loll. I don't think it'd be out of necessity per say. More like they've recently emptied their stock of blood and they're on the way to get more just cause it's risky for Killer to attack folks cause he's more integrated into human society, also to save him having to kill somebody. But Killer's just running a bit low. He could wait, he usually does but Cross being the sweetheart he is noticed, and.. He asked if Killer wanted to drink from him. Killer knows he shouldn't. Really he'd be fine without for a few more days and Cross is such a people pleaser, Killer knows he'd make himself uncomfortable for his sake. He shouldn't but... He just likes Cross a lot, and the guy's offering, he's smelt Cross's blood before and he knows just how terribly good it must be if it caught his interest even when muddied with wolfsbane, and Killer's just hungry and oh fuck obviously he's gonna fucking bite the guy he doesn't know why he's even trying to justify himself he was never going to be able to say no. So he looks at Cross who looks all sorts of anxious and he accepts with a pit of guilt in his stomach. Anyway Cross is on cloud nine his crush has his mouth on his neck and is grabbing him and he's feeding Killer and being such a good boy. As to why they're naked idk I just wanted to draw arm bones. Probably only Cross would've taken his shirt off lol. He doesn't want blood on it.

Yes! It is okay, encouraged actually please don't tell me I made a second blog only for there to be no asks or I will explode Lmao. Also I only have two in my inbox now and one in progress so I'm running out.

I did have a nice day! I re-did my braids, went to my grandma's ALSO crazy shit, she invited family over at our house. Like planned it with the guests without telling us? So now we have to host on Saturday which I think is pretty insane lol invite people to your own house lady. I hope you had a nice day too!! Sending many many hugs

[toskarin]

what are your thoughts on ARPGS? stuff like Diablo, path of exile, Grim Dawn, etc? I remember they got a brief mention back when you were getting asked a bunch about roguelites and was curious since ARPGs are another obvious-but-different offshoot of Rogue

it's a delicate balance for me, because I think that they're a lot of fun, but they're also (by necessity of control scheme) kind of the ultimate skinnerbox game type, which means I end up at odds with the way a lot of them choose to apply difficulty

Torchlight 2, for example, is a game that I still consider to be one of the most fun mindless rpgs out there. it doesn't really have teeth, but if I were to make a list of games someone has to try before they die, it would probably be on that list in spite of my inability to actually figure out why it's compelling

I've kinda settled into "it picked what it wanted to do and just polished it until it was entirely successful at that"

I really enjoy the Titan Quest-descended family of numbercrunchy arpgs in theory, but they often fall into uncomfortably fast combat speed in lategame, which the controls are a bit too imprecise to accommodate unless you're into mobas enough to seek it out

if I start talking about my opinions on larger scale multiplayer in arpgs I'm going to make people very angry at me, so I'll just say that I thought Diablo 2 was quite good and so was most of Path of Exile

overall, it's a genre I'm conflicted about liking

also Lost Ark was bad

[tangledinink]

I can imagine the first cycle after moving. Probably Leo because Donnie likely has internal scarring, so leo goes through the process of laying his eggs, panics, his brother can't help, and finally, *finally* they ask for help. It's not willingly. It's not for fun. It's purely necessity. It's purely because there's *literally noone else* and the idea of telling anyone at all is so scary that the way they do so is in a note. Splinter sits them down and basically walks them through "You're safe, you're fine. We can handle this however you feel most comfortable, including getting you both on blockers if you prefer" and they just.... sigh. For the first time, there's *someone else* in their circle, and it's willing and it's warm, and it's *safe*. There will be tears.

Yes, except I'm not convinced that either of them could stand to tell anyone. Even if it was literally life or death (which it has been before,) I'm not sure if either of them could bear to give up that information. Donnie is finally, finally away from the people who hurt him when he got found out last time, and even though logically, he knows that it's different here, he's absolutely petrified of the thought that the same thing will happen again and it won't be over anymore. He's still horrified by the idea of anyone else knowing about Leo when he's gone to such lengths for so long to protect him, and Leo is likewise terrified in the same way. They've spent years with this being their more closely guarded secret, and that's going to be really difficult to give up.

But it's really not a secret they'll be able to keep for long.

They're in a completely different environment, with far less space and privacy. They're both stressed as hell and Donnie WAS on birth control and taking all sorts of vitamins and supplements to make sure he didn't eggbind again and now he's suddenly not and it's not only messing with his body, it's fucking scary. It literally keeps them both up at night. Neither of them know how to wash blood out of clothes or sheets. There's no private en suite bathroom they can sequester themselves away in. They're both literally making themselves sick with anxiety trying to deal with this, and they're used to handling this on their own, this is routine for them, but they're not used to all of this.

They'd probably metaphorically limp through a few cycles before their family puts it together and gently confronts them.

Venus probably figures it out first. She's pretty smart, and incredibly observant, and after all-- she quite literally experiences the exact same thing. April may not lay eggs, but I think she'd be able to get the idea after a bit as well. And while I think Splinter would realize something was wrong pretty quickly, Draxum would probably realize what was wrong first. Splinter has April, so he has a little bit of experience in this realm, but Draxum has Venus and so he has far more experience.

And so when they do sit them down and talk with them, it's going to be really scary at first. And then they get to, "you're safe, you're fine, we can handle this however you feel the most comfortable. It will be okay. No one will hurt you."

And then there's finally other people in the know, in the circle, people who will actually help them. And yes-- there will definitely be tears.

[flownwrong]

no tether (star trek: discovery fic)

Burnham/Rayner, rated M; tags: post s05e05 Mirrors, PWP, praise kink, ~3200 words

A/N: Fair warning: I'm not very familiar with Star Trek universe. I am here mainly through the misfortune of being obsessed with a certain Canadian actor. So if anything doesn't make sense — you know who to blame.

read on ao3

The hour is just about to turn from late into early when Michael finds him tucked into a narrow nook, in a hallway that's mostly deserted during all shifts.

He's sitting on the floor, tucked into the corner, one knee pulled up, a hand with a drink resting on it. Likely too wired to sleep, too suffocated in the solitude of his quarters. That's why she comes here, anyway. It's rare for them to be off the bridge at the same time; figures that they would end up in the same spot.

She approaches slowly, makes sure she doesn't creep up on him. Rayner doesn't move, eyes fixed on the floor, or, no—his profile is illuminated by soft bluish light. A screen, then.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the wall. "You wouldn't take the chair, but you'd steal my hiding spot, huh?"

"Good morning to you too, Captain." Rayner looks up and raises his glass in a toast. "Hiding spot?"

"Well, isn't that what you're here for?"

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Oh, I'm just catching up on my reading."

"Kellerun classics?"

His mouth lifts at one side, that quiet pleased almost-smile she never quite expects. "Terran, actually."

She leans down to see, raises her eyebrows. "Odyssey. You're full of surprises."

He shuts it down and shrugs. "A good book can save a life." He gives her a flash of a wink.

Michael laughs, caught off guard. He watches her and takes a sip of his drink.

She lowers herself to the floor and scoots until her back meets the opposite wall. The toes of their boots touch in the middle. He doesn't move away.

"So, what's keeping you up?"

"Could ask you the same question." Rayner's eyes are fixed on her face, intense, and for a second, she struggles for words.

"Nothing. Everything. All of this"—she waves her hand, trying to point it all out, the rest of the ship, the mission—"is new. Like nothing I've done before."

He huffs an approximation of a laugh. "You could say that." He doesn't sound nearly as bitter as before, and it's a relief she didn't know she craved.

Still, she's not sure where they stand on this, where the lines are drawn, here, huddled away when they should be sleeping. She clears her throat.

"The things I saw—in the time cycles, and today."

She tries to think of an explanation. Rayner keeps silent, waiting.

"The could have beens. They're hard to shut out."

He shrugs and looks up, out the viewport. "Yeah. Never did well with those."

"Neither have I." It's late, and they're both exhausted, and she's been through way too much weird to bother, so she nudges his boot with her own. "What are you going to do? After, I mean?"

He hums dismissively. "Does it matter?"

Yes, Michael wants to say, of course it does. I want to know what you're waiting for. I want to know if you'll stay. Instead, she says, "Oh? Nowhere you would go? Home?"

Rayner looks uncomfortable, hunches in on himself. When he speaks, his voice is low, like he hopes she won't hear. "Kind of supposed I'd go out before I go home."

She'd be taken aback, except it sounds exactly like him. "Just like that?"

He gives her a challenging look, a rare one that make his face unreadable. "Would you choose any different?"

Would she? He's thought about this, Michael realises, is used to the thought. She forgets, sometimes, how much older he is. Her thoughts are filled with hope, fear, longing—she hasn't chosen how she wants to go, not yet.

Still, there's something here he isn't sharing. She files it away, out of both curiosity and necessity, and reaches out to squeeze his knee. "I don't believe you."

"No?" His sharp features are tense, his cheeks hollowed like he's gritting his teeth.

"No. For one, it would take the heat death of the universe to put you down."

He snorts. "That's flattering."

She ignores him, goes on while she has an in, "But what I mean is that there's too much wonder in you, Rayner. You don't want to go down fighting. You're out here because you want this"—she nods at the stars—"to last." And there's something you left undone, she doesn't add.

He worries at his bottom lip, one of his minute tells. His eyelashes brush his cheeks, a startlingly gentle image.

Michael tilts her head, trying to catch his eye. "Am I wrong?"

Rayner's still for a moment, then shakes his head, lips a thin line, like it costs him. "No. You're not."

"Yeah." She strokes her thumb lightly across his knee. His skin feels feverish through the fabric of his uniform, and she remembers the Kellerun run hotter than humans. He looks down at her hand, swipes his eyes up, over her knees, her chest, shoulders. When he meets her gaze, very slowly, there's a quiet, almost sweet expectation in his look.

She clears her throat. "You haven't finished your drink."

"You want it?" His smile is soft.

She hums an agreement and reaches for his glass, less than a finger of light amber liquid left in it, and he passes it carefully, his fingertips brushing hers. She expects the drink to be acidic, sweet and excessive in all the ways something called citrus mash should be, since she heard the name about seventeen times today, but it's—wow, it's a whiskey. Strong, fragrant, with an aftertaste she can't place, a sharp burn.

She coughs. "Wow. This is good."

"Fair warning, this one kicks." He looks pleased at her surprise, his whole shape looser, waiting.

Michael shakes her head, showing him what feels like the tenth smile of the night. "Thanks for the heads-up. It's good."

"Yeah? There's more where that came from."

"Not the bar?"

"Oh, no. My quarters."

"Oh," she says, appreciative. "You have a bottle with you?"

"As I learned today, keeping a good bar can prove motivational," he says, dead serious.

"Very practical."

His eyes flicker down to her hands and back. "What can I say, I'm a practical guy."

She chuckles. "Yeah, you are."

They breathe in silence for a little while, just watching each other, and Michael knows it will have to be her call. And, oh—she wants it. Wants to not think about the clues, and failed relationships, and the bridge, wants to feel good and make someone feel good—and this is oddly uncomplicated. If there's anyone on this ship she can trust with this, it's Rayner.

"I could join you. For another glass, I mean." She counts down the steps. Three.

He gives her a hard, no-bullshit look. Waiting for her to cave. When all she does is look back, he says, "I suppose you could." Two.

They get up silently, in sync. It feels good, them on the same page, an already familiar hum, the only new thing in it the simmering anticipation.

One.

As soon as they clear his door, Rayner turns, blocking her way into the room. "Captain."

"Michael," she says. She won't do this in command, not to him, and not to herself.

He nods. "Michael. Do you actually want me to pour you a drink?"

An out, then. For her or for himself, though, she's not sure. She's halfway through a no, not really when he raises a hand, halting her words, staring her down. Fine.

"Yes," she offers, as firm as she can. "Later."

He watches her with narrowed eyes for a second, then turns to go in. She catches his wrist and tugs until he looks back at her. "This isn't part of your job," she says, wanting him to know—he must, but this isn't something she can afford to misjudge.

He barks out a laugh, looking genuinely amused. "That what you think of me?"

"Shush," she says, before he locks down and this whole thing breaks. He looks shocked at the word. "This is not part of your job."

She holds very still until he tugs his wrist free, his mouth twitching in an abortive smile. "Fine." He raises his chin, but his eyes are still laughing.

Rayner drops the empty glass onto a bedside table, dims the lights, disappears into the bathroom. She lingers back, takes it in. She expected his room to be stark, impersonal. It's not. Mostly dark, now that he's turned the warm lights down. There's a soft-looking blue throw, not Starfleet issue, over the bed that's tucked neatly against the wall. An unfamiliar vine with round purple leaves framing the viewport above. A bottle with two matching glasses in the cabinet on the far wall. It's sparse, but nothing like the ascetic box she'd imagined.

He walks back into the room, barefoot, and stops, a little awkward, two steps in front of the bed, not wanting to—presume? Michael realises just then she was hoping—once they got past the questions—for urgent, for tumble into the room, fall into bed, shut everything out sex, and barely manages not to laugh out loud. Good pick of a partner here, Burnham.

So she steps closer and looks up at him. He's tall enough that she's used to it, but up close it's a new feeling. He seems to be holding his breath when she raises her hands to his neck. She undoes his collar and keeps hold of it—she could probably drag him wherever she wants like this. He exhales on a laughter, like he's getting the joke, and folds himself down to sit on the bed.

"Here," she unzips his jacket, slides it down his shoulders, until he shrugs out of it. It's weird to be undressing someone wearing the same uniform. She wonders how long it's been since he wore anything but. She bares his soft undershirt, regulation, same as hers. He smells good, spicy, not unlike his drink. Getting to look down at him—she's struck by his angles, his pale shoulders almost narrow. Nothing like Book.

And here's the truth of it, isn't it? She could say she's getting it out of her system, a distraction from the one thing she can't have, and it wouldn't be a lie, but—she wants Rayner, here. He's sharp, and audacious, and oddly easy to provoke into uncertainty, and his eyes go warm and a little lost when someone—when she's proud of him.

So she reaches out, palm on his cheek, and he turns immediately to mouth at it, slow, eyes fluttering closed. It's dizzying. "Good," she says, has to say, and he shudders with it. She traces the edge of his ear with a finger, light, sees the start of a blush right at the tip. He leans into it. This, here. Michael wonders why he's doing this. What it is he's looking for, or trying to shut out.

His eyes still closed, Rayner opens his mouth to speak—and she drops her knee onto the bed, between his legs, warm and close. His eyes fly open, bright and stunned. She slides her hands back to cradle the base of his skull. The short buzz of his hair there is soft, silky.

"Okay," he says, and moves in, stretching up to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She draws a sharp breath. Good instincts. He moves lower. Her clavicle. The dip between her breasts. She isn't guiding him. His lips are hot through the fabric covering her ribs, hotter on her belly. He goes to slide off the bed, to his knees, and she strokes the back of his neck, and doesn't let him. He scoffs—of course he does, and looks up with almost comical annoyance.

Michael scoffs right back. "You don't hold back in uniform—this is where you start?"

Rayner laughs then, full-on, a grin splitting his face. She's heard his annoyed laugh, incredulous laugh, hiding-something-important laugh. This one is a first. "Me on your knees for you is holding back?"

Blunt—there we go, blunt is familiar territory, and she raises her eyebrows at him. "Do what you want, not what you think I want, yeah?"

He watches her for a second, like he's considering the concept, then slowly, deliberately sits back, spreads his legs further.

"Good," she says again, presses her knee right where he's—yes, hard for it, and waits out his low, uneven moan.

"Come on," Michael says, shucks everything off until she's left in her top and underwear. He grabs at her blindly then, reaches her elbows, her waist, slides further up the bed and lies down, pulling her in. She climbs up after him, not quite straddling his hips, says, "come on, Rayner,do your part," and he rises just enough to match her, bare but for his uniform top and shorts, allows her hands to settle at his face again. She thumbs over his cheekbones, over the scar crossing his eyebrow, and he spreads his fingers over her lower back, pulls her down on a hard exhale.

She takes his hand and slides it right there between them, says "go ahead", has to grind down on his knuckles as he palms at himself, rocking up into his own hand, holds his face firmly until he's gasping with it. He's slick when she finally gets him out; bites off a curse when she slides down his body. He doesn't feel any different than what she knows—coarse grey hair at the base of a long, flushed cock; soft, vulnerable sack below it. There's so much heat under her touch when her fingers circle him, a vague reminder of his origin, and that's all she gets to file away before Rayner sinks his fingers in her hair, green light, going in now.

He's quiet and almost still as she takes him in, but that's to be expected, and she closes her eyes, goes slow, gets really into it for a while, until he sucks in a shaky breath, squeezes her neck and arches up hard, says "fuck", sharp and meaning it, and "please", and that's so mind-meltingly hot Michael moans around him and can't manage more than five seconds before coming up because she needs to see him, now.

Rayner's eyes are shut tight, teeth bared. His hands slip down her arms, shaky, his chest is moving with harsh, shallow breaths. "God, Rayner," she says, taking him in hand and pumping slowly, "you're—you're good, you're so good—" and he actually keens at that, an odd high sound.

"Stop," he says, "Michael," and she doesn't, and oh, to see what this costs him.

"What do you want?"

He gasps for breath for a moment, shakes his head. Michael sighs and stills her hand on him.

"Rayner. Look at me."

He makes a cut-off sound of frustration, almost a snarl, breathes in, and meets her eyes dead-on, clear and precise. "Fuck me."

She can't help her smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

She rolls over onto her back. His eyes are all pupil as he lands on his elbows above her, and she throws her legs around him, high on his waist, draws him in.

"Wait," he says, "let me," and strokes just the tips of his fingers under her top, watching her carefully.

"Yeah," she says, "it's alright," and he helps her take it off, nuzzles her neck, then down to her breasts. She feels him hard, leaking against her thigh, and she presses her heel sharply into his lower back until he thrusts against her with a gasp, slowly, and again, keeps it up as he kisses her nipples, her shoulder, the inside of her elbow. She groans, because fuck, he's honest about this, wanting her, wanting her approval, and she whispers, "hey, come here already," and then he's inside her, his hips rolling smoothly, stroking in, and she holds his shoulders, murmurs to him, "yeah, that's it, it's good, you feel good, come on," hears his breath hitch. He closes his eyes, and in the soft creamy glow in the room the planes of his face blur a little. His hair is damp at the roots, a soft white lock falling down against his forehead.

Michael rides his steady rhythm, closes her eyes, too, his long, heated body oddly malleable under her hands and heels, and then his breath is suddenly hot and close, and she looks up to see him unsure again, doesn't get it until his hand cups her cheek and he drops his head an inch closer, hovering, waiting for permission. Oh, God, he's so—Michael draws him into the kiss, soft and wet and scratchy with his beard, and he moans into it, sounding so relieved she has to kiss him harder, fists her hands in the back of his shirt and clenches around him until his hips snap forward harder, again and again, and then he's gone.

After—when he's stopped shivering, when he's finished her off with such care she didn't know what to do with it and kept her hands fisted in his hair, holding on—they lie next to each other, on their backs, for long, quiet minutes. It's peaceful. It's what she came here for.

The room is warmer than what Michael's used to. She thinks about dressing, then discards the idea, sits up and stretches instead. Rayner's eyes don't follow her.

"I'll take that drink now."

He snaps out of his daze and looks at her. "Oh. Um, that way." He nods in the general direction of the cabinet. She finally gets to see the bottle up close—thin, pearlescent material, the liquid inside almost sparkling as the light reflects off it.

She returns to the bed with her glass, sits down, hugging her knees. Rayner hasn't moved, watching her from where he's stretched on his back, hands behind his head, bare but for his shorts. She takes a drink and strokes his shoulder, lets herself look back.

There are scars on his body, paler against pale skin, more than he'd get on a ship—even in battles, even in decades. She doesn't know if he was hiding them, and if he was, why he'd show her now, after. He looks calm, steady, but his face is pale and tired, the lines around his mouth more pronounced.

She slides a hand into his damp hair, smoothes it back. "This time, do get some rest, okay?"

"Aye-aye." He catches her hand and kisses it. His long fingers circle her wrist, thumb stroking gently at the base of her palm.

Something sharp shifts in her throat, a fierce protectiveness. This, she knows, goes both ways.

She takes one more chance. "I'd like to keep you, after. As my number one."

Rayner frowns and lets her hand drop. "Let's see how this one goes first."

Michael sighs and shakes her head at him. "You don't have to swear to it. Just consider it." She gives his shoulder a parting squeeze and gets up to collect her clothes.

As she sits down on the edge of the bed to tug her boots back on, he puts a warm hand between her shoulder blades. "Thank you," he says to her back.

"And you." She raises her hand to her badge, but turns back to give him a smile, and, for once, he doesn't look trapped. "I'll see you on the bridge, Commander."

[sophiasoelberg]

So the symbolism with clothes is INSANE in OFMD.

By Season 2 Episode 6, they're both becoming what the other was. Ed no longer wants to be a pirate because it brought out the brutal, cold blooded part in him that he's been bored of long before he met Stede. But which was a necessity for him to survive, to protect his mother from his father.

Then he met Stede, who was a gentleman, doing and being something Ed has always wanted to be, which is softness. Like the soft, fine fabrics Ed likes, but never really allowed himself to have, only carried the piece of red silk his mother has given him when he was a boy.

Ed only let go of that red silk when him and Stede were apart, because Ed gave up on his newly discovered soft side. He became the Kraken, all hard edges and black leather.

Also, before he let go of the softness with the red silk, he wore Stede's fuchsia robe, which represented the colour entering Stede's life, and by Ed wearing it, he wore Stede's essence, what comforted him as he missed Stede very much. He missed the colour from his life.

Fast forward, in Season 2 after Stede had his first kill, after Ned literally said that if he does it, Stede will become a Real Pirate, Stede looks for comfort with Ed by making love to him. Stede as a pirate who was always scared of the brutality and coldness of masculinity that his father represented to him, I believe.

Yet being a pirate, an infamous one at that, as Stede finds himself suddenly to be, is what he had dreamed about. Which must be conflicting as heck, too. Being something you yearned for, and being accepted for it, which you're not used to, but then that very thing you wanted is also uncomfortable because of the inherent brutality it carries with itself. (Piracy)

Anyway, when Episode 7 starts, Ed throws his leathers into the sea. His things that represent Blackbeard. He gets rid of it after he became intimate with Stede, having taken off Blackbeard, (=his leathers) LITERALLY. This time he's wearing Stede's robe but it's the same dark blue colour as Stede's new "pirate shirt".

Blue is obviously one of Stede's favourite colours, which would symbolise his love for the sea— and Ed wears that. He wears Stede on himself on that Morning After. Ed is trying to find what he can become after he gives up his Blackbeard identity, and what he knows is that he likes fishing and most importantly, loves Stede. He finds comfort in Stede, like Stede does in Ed.

One more interesting thing, since I'm diving into the topic of symbolism with clothes is the fact that there was a huge emphasis on the scene in which Buttons turned into a seagull.

Buttons said: "The sea is my love. To love the sea as she must be loved, requires change."

And Ed: "Buttons, people don't change, not into birds or otherwise." (Just when Ed and Stede's theme starts to play very softly)

But Buttons changes, and Ed is AMAZED by it, and then goes on his own journey to change his ways. So that he can love Stede in a healthy way.

Buttons leaves his clothes behind, and in Episode 7, Ed wears them as he's trying to figure out who he wants to be instead of Blackbeard and instead of a pirate. For me, him wearing Buttons' clothes then means that Edward is finally truly (docked too) ready for change.

But it also means that Buttons is a character who's LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH THE SEA. And in the beginning of Season 2, Stede wore Buttons' cravat. And then Ed wears the rest of Buttons' clothes. Showing that Ed and Stede love the sea.

As of right now, by Episode 7, what they need now, Ed and Stede, is to find a middle ground where both can be who they truly are and continue to balance each other out that way. For Ed to find peace, softness and comfort, (and a fucking INN, give that man what he wants, for whoever's sake—) and for Stede to be who he aspired to be, a pirate, but to also regain his gentleness, because that's a core part of him. That's why Ed loves him.