#dark link name subject to change

[skyward-floored]

Trick of the light (downfall iau)

Going back in time a bit, a quick thing about how Wind and Four actually ended up in the wrong universe.

...

“Don’t come any closer!”

Wind huffed in annoyance, glaring at the bad guy that was threateningly waving some kind of device around. They’d finally cornered Wizzro up here after a long chase-slash-fight, and now he’d hidden himself behind a forcefield and was grinning at them all like he wasn’t totally about to be stopped.

Four beside him rolled his eyes, and Wind heard their father let out a sigh as the villain cackled again.

“Wizzro, you’re surrounded, drop your shield and drop your weapon,” he said coolly.

“Never! I went through a lot of work to make this!” Wizzro hissed, then ran a loving hand over the device. “It’s ready now— all I have to do is use it, and nobody will be able to stop me!”

“Oh yeah? What’s it do?” Warriors drawled, and Time tilted his head at Wind and Four, making a few small hand gestures.

They nodded, and began to slowly inch around to Wizzro’s other side while Warriors distracted him, Wind wishing Wild or Legend had come with them. It figures the two people we could use the most didn’t come.

“Well, it’s... very powerful,” Wizzro began to explain, twiddling with some switches, “so powerful that not even you will be able to stand up to me, Fierce Deity!”

“Ooh, scary,” Warriors grinned, casually crossing his arms. “You have no clue what it does, do you?”

“What? Yes! Of course I do!” Wizzro snapped, but they all saw the hesitation in his eyes. “I do!”

Time raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Oh shut up! I’ve combined several different designs to make an all-powerful weapon!” Wizzro yelled, and then held it up so they could all see it. “And the power that fuels it is not to be reckoned with!”

Wind saw a glimmer of light in the bottom of the gun-like device, bright enough that he couldn’t really tell what it was. Maybe some kind of stone? He didn’t recognize it though, and based on Warriors and Time’s frowns, they didn’t either.

He kept going alongside Four though. They were almost directly behind Wizzro now, and with his focus on Warriors and Time, Wind was confident he’d be able to use his winds to shut off the forcefield so he and Four could tackle him. He was a little uneasy about the weapon, but he could just blow it out of Wizzro’s hand if it came to it.

“And what exactly is this power that we should be so terrified of?” Time asked dryly, hiding his own unease. Wizzro only grinned, and twirled his weapon.

“That’s only for me to know about, I’m afraid. But you should be terrified.”

“Why exactly? If you don’t even know what it does, why should we be afraid?” Warriors asked, and Wizzro hummed, tapping a withered finger to his chin. Or at least what might have been a chin. His hood mostly hid his face.

“You know, that’s a good point,” Wizzro said casually. His grin grew. “What do you say we test it?”

And then before anyone could react, he whirled around and shot it through his shield directly at Wind and Four.

Pure light burst from the device, so bright that it seemed to blot out every sense that Wind had. He plainly heard his father’s panicked shout though, and Wind had just enough time to grab onto Four before the light intensified over them like a solid weight.

His breath left him, otherwise he would have screamed with the way it felt like every cell in his body lit up with energy. The world swirled around and the light felt like it was passing through him, pulling and tugging him away.

Wind held Four with everything he had, and the world went white.

...

The blinding light lasted several seconds, then abruptly faded, leaving Time, Warriors and Wizzro all blinking rapidly in an attempt to regain their vision.

And when it did, Wind and Four were nowhere to be seen.

Wizzro blinked, looking at his weapon, then at the place where Wind and Four had been, and then back at his weapon again.

“Hm. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Warriors decked him with a blast of ice to the chest.

(...)

Wind woke up to a distant call of his name, and someone frantically shaking his shoulders.

A groan escaped him, and he managed to drag his eyes open, though he immediately closed them again. The light felt like it was burning his eyeballs, and even though the shaking was kinda frantic, Wind didn’t move, trying to get the world to settle and the pain in his head to ease up.

“Wind! Come on, wake up!”

At the sound of his brother’s frantic voice, Wind finally peeled his eyes open, despite how much it hurt them. The light was a little less intense this time though, and he made out a blurry face in front of him, expression on the panicked side.

“Uh... Four?” Wind managed to groan, and Four nodded, looking relieved.

“Finally! I woke up like ten minutes ago, I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to. I had to drag you into an alleyway!” he said a little frantically, and Wind squinted at him.

“You dragged... wait, why?” he asked, sitting up with a grunt. Ow. “What... what happened?”

Four bit his lip, and looked behind him somewhere. “I... I don’t know. That light hit us, and we got thrown somewhere, I guess. But when I woke up people were staring at us, especially at our suits, and this one guy looked bad, so I tugged you away when he glanced away, and Wind, it looks really weird out there.”

“Really weird how?” Wind questioned, and Four anxiously rubbed his arm.

“Like... wrong.”

Wind frowned, and looked around the alleyway Four had dragged him into, not noticing anything too out of the ordinary. It was a little stinky, but there was nothing wrong.

Not until he saw a poster on the wall that made his stomach lurch.

Wind stood, wobbling for a moment then righting himself, and walked to the wall, staring at the poster. It was partially torn, but still almost entirely legible. The part that had caught his attention though, was the part that said DIRK LAKEWOOD, KEEPING US SAFE.

Four looked over his shoulder and choked, and Wind kept staring at the poster, Dark’s winning smile making him want to tear the poster up and run.

“Th... that’s Dark,” Four said shakily, and Wind’s mind flickered back to the disaster with Dark and the island, the robot and the fight, and... Four almost getting kidnapped. “How...”

“I don’t know,” Wind said quietly, and looked at Four. “But... I think that light did more then just zap us off the roof.”

Four paled a little and leaned against the wall, and Wind’s mind was running in overdrive, trying to figure out what this meant. Dark was dead, no doubt about that, but somehow he... wasn’t?

Rapid footsteps pounded nearby, and Wind and Four startled and ducked back a little, watching a figure charge into the alleyway and begin working his way up the wall. It was a super, outfit a dark red, hints of black and green interspersed, and Wind squinted, the colors familiar, yet... not.

Four suddenly gasped, and Wind realized it was Legend jumping over dumpsters and climbing up onto the roof. But last Wind checked, Legend was at home with a cold, and the Legend currently working his way upwards was all wrong, the colors of his suit too dark, his frame skinnier than it should be.

Wind caught a brief glimpse of his face, and his blood went cold, the face so obviously his brother’s and yet not at the same time that he had to sit down.

He and Four watched the strange Legend disappear onto a rooftop, and didn’t say anything for a few long seconds.

“I think you’re right,” Four finally whispered.

They exchanged frightened looks, and Wind glanced back at the poster one more time, Dark still grinning at them with an obnoxiously perfect smile.

What had they just gotten themselves into?

[notoh-dev]

Flowers for Kasumi on Itch.io!

Flowers for Kasumi was a demo that @eredoh and I (previously Nedras) released in 2017. It was developed in RPG Maker VX Ace. While Flowers for Kasumi is on an indefinite hiatus, (at least until my other project, The Doctrine of Perseverance is completed) I wanted to share this old demo as it is dear to me, and there is at least one confirmed character who is also in TDOP. Also, the RPGMaker.net download is inaccessible due to their website being down.

I have also merged the setting for both projects (This will be more noticeable once the full game for TDOP is completed): Flowers for Kasumi will take place in Noxton, some other characters in FFK will see name changes as well in the future. Other story elements from this project are subject to change in the future.

Synopsis

Flowers for Kasumi tells the story of titular girl, Kasumi, and how her life ended so abruptly. The game takes place in the fictional town of Kumashina, a small town that holds a grave secret. In the midst of fall, protagonists Isa and Omoka will unearth the secrets behind Kasumi, and the truth behind her death.

Solve puzzles and piece together the dark mystery of what happened to Kasumi Erizawa.

Disclaimer

This is a demo from 2017. The project's development halted around late 2018/early 2019. Eredoh and I were teenagers when we began, but as life got busy, it was ultimately discontinued.​ I have just returned to game development last year (2023). Flowers for Kasumi is on an indefinite hiatus until my other project, The Doctrine of Perseverance is completed.

>> Download on Itch.io <<

Affiliated Links

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[sylusjinwoon]

{ 180 }

autobiography.

fan!sung jinwoo x author!fem.reader

{ got stains on my t-shirt and i'm the biggest flirt | right now i'm solo, but that will be changing eventually, oh | got bruises on my heart and sometimes i get dark | if you want my auto, want my autobiography | baby, just ask me... }

anonymous said: Brainrot of my day: Imagine an author Reader and Booknerd Jinwoo, when he was still an E rank hunter he liked to read her work lot and when he became a well known hunter she was inspired by him to make a biography about him so she reaches out and imagine how flattered he was when she reached out! His favorite author wanting to make a biography. About him?? EEEEEE

you were absolutely fascinated with the seemingly sudden cinderella story that took the form of a new and upcoming hunter that went by the name sung jinwoo.

with your reading glasses settled across your eyes, you did some extensive research on jinwoo and ran across various news articles detailing all of his latest successes and raids. your hands itched with the desire to open a fresh document and draft everything that you knew about him so far-

ah, but you were getting ahead of yourself.

being a well-known author, you have written a plethora of novels since your early 20s, even managing to reach the bestseller's list quite a few times as well. your face was plastered against the back covers of each novel that you published, and the fans that you had would always recognize you immediately, taking photos with you or asking if you could sign a copy of your novels for them.

you were a mere civilian, but you were incredibly happy that your passion for writing helped give you somewhat of a celebrity status. your name wasn't as well-known as the hunters surrounding the world, but in your opinion, you were known enough by the right amount of people.

as you read through each article and watched the videos that featured south korea's latest, s-rank hunter, you had the desire to somehow reach out to jinwoo himself.

after all, biographies were written with the sole purpose of celebrating that person's life-

so long as you had that person's permission.

you lean back in your seat, grabbing the cup of coffee from your desk as you took a sip of it whilst deep in thought. with your fingertips hovered over the keys once more, you type in the website for the korean hunter's association branch, searching through the site until you reached a section that read most notable hunters.

clicking on the link, you scroll down until you see jinwoo's name. you open up jinwoo's profile and keep scrolling down until you saw his contact information, noticing his email address:

sung.jinwoo@kha.com

cracking your knuckles, you open your email account and begin typing out your message to the hunter you were desperate to write about.

{ ... }

from: rainedinwriter@kmail.com

to: sung.jinwoo@kha.com

subject: would you like a biography written about you?

hello! you may know me as the author of some books, most notably true blue and the aurora syndrome (and if you've never read any of my books, that's okay too!)

long story short, i'm an author and would like your permission to come and meet with you- maybe even interview you and write a biography about you? i am truly so awed by your story and would love to learn more about you!

reply back when you can-

(i really hope you'll agree to meet me!)

signing off~

{ ... }

"HOLY SHIT THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!"

before sung jinwoo could further bask in this unexpected email that he had received, jinho bursts into his office, panic written all over his features as he calls out to him.

"boss, are you alright?! what happened?!"

he could feel the heat traveling up his neck and upwards towards his ears, making jinwoo force a smile when he waves off jinho's concern all while trying to maintain a neutral face. "oh, it's nothing, ah... my favorite soccer team just scored another win and i got really excited."

jinho gives jinwoo a look of suspicion, not quite believing him. however, not one to question his president, jinho shrugs before leaving the office.

"let me know if you need anything, boss, i'll be around."

giving jinho one last (albeit stiff) nod, the hunter waits with bated breath for his vice president to leave before letting out a shaky breath.

"holy shit."

to say jinwoo was freaking out would be the understatement of the century. jinwoo's favorite author of all times had reached out to him (him!) with desires to write a biography about him.

his mind was spinning, and he actually had a copy of the aurora syndrome with him right now. jinwoo adored your stories, but the aurora syndrome held a special place in his heart. in the novel, the protagonist was a young adult who suffered from narcolepsy, and it spoke about their day to day life while dealing with such a disorder.

in many ways, jinwoo could relate to that protagonist (especially during the time where he was still labeled as the weakest hunter in the world), since they were known to be self-conscious and meek, but was slowly able to come out of their shell thanks to the support of their family and friends.

and the same author of such an amazing novel (aka YOU) wished to write a book about him?!

the young hunter's head couldn't stop spinning. he kept pacing around his office, pinching himself every so often to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

after reading (and rereading) your email at least a hundred times, jinwoo's hands begin to tremble when he goes back to his desktop pc. fingertips trained over the keyboard, he begins typing out his reply to you-

(a feat that ends up taking an hour or so due to the sheer amount of times he had to write and rewrite the same message over and over again to make sure that it was perfect for you.)

{ ... }

from: sung.jinwoo@kha.com

to: rainedinwriter@kmail.com

REPLY: would you like a biography written about you?

i am honestly so honored to have you writing a biography about me!

my story isn't much, just a series of events that just proves how lucky i am.

i've taken some time off for you and your interviews, is 2 weeks enough?

reply back when you're able to... and let me know if my arrangements work well for you.

sincerely,

sung jinwoo

{ ... }

you were pleasantly surprised when jinwoo got back to you within mere hours of receiving your email. due to his quick rise in fame, you thought that you would be left on read for at least a month or so.

"hm, perhaps sung jinwoo is more down-to-earth than i expected?"

a strange warmth fills you at the thought, and you truly were grateful to jinwoo for taking the time out of his day to get back to you so quickly.

just as you were going to send another email to talk further about the details, you receive yet another new email notification from jinwoo. curious as to what he sent, you open up his email and felt your eyes going wide in response.

xxx xxx - xxxx | sung jinwoo

call me?

now this was new. were you overthinking things, or was jinwoo actually eager to speak to you?

you shake your head at the thought, feeling a bit flabbergasted yourself. not wanting to squander this amazing opportunity, you take out your cellphone and type in the numbers seen on the screen. with your heart was racing in anticipation, you let out a deep breath before calling the hunter directly.

the other line rings a few times and you were pleasantly surprised to hear jinwoo pick up the phone on its second ring.

"h-hello?" you were dimly aware of the sounds of shuffling on the other end, clearing your throat as you began your end of the conversation.

smiling into the phone, you introduce yourself by full name, "thank you so much for allowing me the pleasure of doing this- ah, of calling you, i mean."

"oh, y-yeah, it's no problem at all!" a series of nervous, high-pitched laughter was heard coming from the other end. "s-sorry for acting w-weird but, i never expected my favorite author to contact me about their desire to write my b-biography."

the warmth seems to spread throughout your body upon hearing his admission. "what? are you kidding me? who wouldn't want to write a biography about you! your story is amazing, mr. sung!"

"jinwoo." his grave voice catches you off guard momentarily.

"ah, wait a minute... you're actually allowing me to call you by your first name?"

"i don't see why not, b-because i assure you, i've admired you for far longer than you have admired me. your novels have truly changed my life."

you felt your smile widen as you continued speaking to him, "and may i ask what books of mine that you have read?"

jinwoo's voice becomes a bit more passionate now, and you listen to him rant about every single novel you had written thus far, a fact that made your cheeks feel warm as an even wider grin spreads across your face.

sung jinwoo had to be your number one fan.

"well mr- i mean, jinwoo, you have just made my day! actually, since you've pretty much read all of my novels, you must know that your biography will be my first time writing a non-fictional story?"

"of course, that's why i can't stop my heart from pounding with excitement. i've always loved you- i mean, your work."

he seems to have realized his slip up, quickly covering it up so that you would not mention it when he asks you if you agreed to spend the next two weeks with him, making you do another yet another double take.

"whoa, seriously? you're letting me meet with you so soon?"

jinwoo's rich chuckle fills you, "of course. knock on wood, but things have been pretty safe lately, with only low level gates appearing. if anything major comes up during the two weeks you are in seoul with me, i can always ask the other s-ranked hunters to deal with it. so are you in?"

truly, who were you to reject such a generous offer?

{ ... }

perhaps jinwoo was a little too excited to see you.

despite all your protests about having him buy you the plane tickets to get to seoul, he did it anyways. he paid for you to have a first class flight while making sure he would be sent updates to where you were at all times.

but he really couldn't help how he felt.

when he was at the lowest point in his life (being labeled as the weakest in the world with his father missing and his mother in a coma, all while his sister was relying on him), jinwoo found great comfort within your novels. he could relate to each protagonist on a personal level, and he had longed wished to meet the writer behind these wonderful stories-

he had longed to meet you.

so it was no surprise that he didn't sleep much during the hours leading up to your arrival.

it was no surprise that your picture plastered in the back of each novel was an image that he burned within his mind.

and it was certainly no surprise that he would become infatuated with you after hearing your voice and catching a glimpse of your personality during your phone call.

so when your plane lands in seoul's main airport at 3am, jinwoo was the first to arrive with his trademark van, holding up a sign that had your name written on it as he waited for you within the airport lobby.

jinwoo kept pacing around the airport, waiting for you at the gate you were meant to come out of. he was close to sending the several, panicked emails to the airlines he had booked tickets for had it not been for your sudden appearance. as you step out of the gate, he recognizes your side profile, feeling his heart begin skipping beats the closer you got to him.

you had a tired and confused expression on your face, with a single luggage in hand as you searched around for him. however, thanks to his height, you saw him almost immediately. a smile paints your features as you walk up to jinwoo to meet him.

"hello jinwoo, thank you so much for picking me up, a-and for booking the ticket for me to come here."

jinwoo could feel his throat turn dry at the mere sight of you because dear god, were you so much prettier in real life than in your photos.

{ ... }

you tilt your head at jinwoo, holding your luggage in one hand as you wave your free hand across his face. for some odd reason, jinwoo appeared to be captivated, not saying a word despite how you had stood in front of him for a total of 5 minutes now.

"jinwoo?"

as if finally hearing your voice, jinwoo snaps out of it, with you watching as he runs a hand across his hair while a light pink blush was seen spreading across his cheeks. he smiles down at you before wrapping his arms around your back, bringing you closer to his chest in a warm embrace.

"hey, i'm glad you made it here safe."

you hum in response, basking in the gentle but minty sweet scent of his cologne wafting off of his suit. you awkwardly return his embrace with one hand before looking up at him. "so, where to now?"

"well, you're going back to my place, of course." jinwoo takes a hold of your luggage before walking out of the airport, giving you little choice but to follow him.

"w-wait, that won't be necessary! i had every intention of staying at a hotel for the next two weeks! i don't wish to intrude on you-"

jinwoo stops walking, facing you fully with glowing eyes. they appeared to be translucent blue in hue as he places a hand beneath your chin. "please, i insist that you stay with me. you're still my guest, and it would pain me to see you spending a single cent while you're with me."

the familiar heat was felt returning to your cheeks. it was clear that jinwoo exuded a high amount of charm, and from the way his kind gaze was practically begging you to allow him to do this for you, you found that you lost the will to protest against him.

"well, if it's alright with you, then i thank you."

when jinwoo ends up patting your head / ruffling your hair, you felt the warmth simply deepen, allowing him to gently take a hold of your hand as you both left the airport together.

{ ... }

for once in his life, jinwoo was glad that he bought a separate apartment to crash in when he had to spend late nights at his guild.

because if he had allowed you to stay within the same space as his mother and little sister, they would never keep his 'crush' on you a secret (especially jinah).

after a 30 minute ride where he exchanged small talk and usual pleasantries with you, he takes you back to his 'work' apartment and invites you inside. despite the riches he has earned during his raids, jinwoo still chose to live a relatively modest lifestyle, renting out a two bedroom apartment that wasn't too small, nor too big.

he shows you the spare bedroom and points at the bathroom settled in the hallway, reassuring you that you could make yourself at home and alert him if you needed anything. you respond with your usual kind smile, and jinwoo leaves you alone to get unpacked.

knowing that you were probably starving after such a long flight, jinwoo heads into his kitchen to cook a delicious meal consisting of hotpot and ramyun noodles. he works on cutting up all the meats, seafood, and various vegetables while heating up the broth in the middle of his dining room table.

despite knowing how he wouldn't have much of an appetite while in your presence, jinwoo still wanted to cook some hearty for you (just in case). as he was finishing up the hotpot, he sees your figure inching closer to the dining room.

"wow, it smells so good, jinwoo. you're also a good cook?"

"absolutely yes."

you giggle in response, "well, i guess i'll just have to dedicate a whole chapter of your biography to how much of an amazing cook you are!"

he gives you a grin while gesturing at you to have a seat. with all the bowls and utensils surrounding the table, he beckons at you to dig in first. "i'm gonna grab us some sodas to enjoy, so you go ahead and start first."

"ah, are you sure?"

"absolutely! go on and don't be shy." he feels the butterflies taking over his abdomen, getting out some cans of soda before sitting across from you. as you begin eating, jinwoo felt a surge of pride swelling inside of him when you tell him how wonderful everything tasted.

he replies to your genuine compliments with a tiny 'thank you,' starting to eat as well, all while sneaking glances at you.

{ ... }

the following days spent with jinwoo kind of felt like a dream, if you were to be honest with yourself.

and it made you wonder, did all celebrities act like this toward the authors who wished to write their biographies?

deep down, you knew the answer to that question as being no-

that this was a special case between you and jinwoo.

as you interviewed him and asked about his life, he would take some time out of his day to treat you to various things. from eating out at expensive restaurants, to playing around and having fun at the local amusement park-

this felt more like going on dates than just work on your end.

and admittedly, you were having a lot of fun with him. not a single day went by where you didn't feel the excitement coursing through your veins. you ended up enjoying jinwoo's company so much that you felt almost a sense of sadness coursing through you at the thought of going back home and leaving him.

however, during your last night here in seoul, you pushed aside such pesky emotions and began writing out a draft of his biography. you knew that once you started your writing process, then you would not stop-

which is perfect for when you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep.

the door to the spare bedroom was closed as you hoped that it would muffle the incessant sounds of you typing away on your laptop. the last thing you wanted was to disturb jinwoo's sleep when you had every intention to pull an all-nighter writing the beginning chapters of jinwoo's biography.

after writing a few paragraphs, you stop typing to admire your work so far:

sung jinwoo is a 24 year old young man born on march 8, xxxx to his mother, park kyung-hye, and father, sung il-hwan. he spent most of his childhood living a relatively normal life with his parents and little sister, jinah. despite his seemingly normal upbringing, sung has faced many tragedies that left a permanent mark on his life. from the sudden disappearance of his father, to his mother falling into a deep coma due to the eternal slumber disease, he was left with the heavy responsibilities of caring for his seemingly broken family. but this biography is not a tragedy; in fact, the words written within the pages of this novel will be a testament to sung jinwoo's strength as he changes from the world's weakest hunter to the world's strongest hunter through a series of fated events...

a sudden knock heard at your door breaks you out of your read-through of the first few paragraphs that you have written.

"come in."

upon receiving your permission, jinwoo steps into the room with an unreadable expression on his face. there was a deep emotion settled within his eyes, and you wondered if something was bothering him.

"hey, you're still awake? are you okay?"

jinwoo's head was bowed to you, and you hear him murmur something.

"i'm sorry, jinwoo, but i didn't quite catch what you just said. can you repeat yourself?"

the young man begins to tremble when he speaks once more, this time clearer than before. "please stay with me."

your eyes go wide when jinwoo swiftly joins you on your bed, taking you in his arms when he suddenly presses his lips against yours in a kiss filled with desperation. you let out a surprised gasp, allowing jinwoo to take advantage of your parted lips as he dips his tongue within the confines of your mouth.

jinwoo greedily explores your taste, falling into bed with you as your back lands against the mattress. your heart was set aflame thanks to his kiss, and you could no longer deny the way it sang for him each time he was near. with your eyes clenched shut, you shyly return his kiss, allowing him to deepen it as he kept your head still with his large hands.

when the need for air proved to be too much, you and jinwoo both reluctantly pull away from each other, your eyes both hazy with the adoration you felt for one another. as you met with jinwoo's passionate, grey eyes, you watch as he leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips.

"i'm sorry, but you need to know that... i've been half in love with you for a long time now. ever since i read your debut novel, i was hooked on you."

while he confesses to you, jinwoo brings you into his embrace, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap as he brushes his lips against your forehead. "i understood and found bits and pieces of myself in each and every protagonist you wrote about, and with each new novel that i read by you, the more i felt my admiration and crush for you morph into something else entirely- something much deeper and more meaningful."

you remain silent throughout it all, feeling overwhelmed as you listened to each and every one of jinwoo's words. he frames at your face, eyes now filled with unbidden love for you, "to make a long story a lot shorter, when i got stronger and managed to become an s-rank, all i could think about was how this made it easier for me to potentially meet you someday."

"so when you reached out to me first, eager to know about my life because of how i became stronger... i knew i couldn't let this chance go."

he smiles at you, taking in your wide eyes and the way you parted your lips in such a cute manner. with a sigh of your name, jinwoo kisses you once more. "i thought i'd be happy, simply spending two weeks alone with you, but i've quickly come to realize that two weeks just isn't enough."

despite how fast your heart was racing, you could feel the grin gracing your features as you nuzzled the tip of your nose against jinwoo's. "oh? and if two weeks isn't enough, how many days would i need to spend with you for it to be enough for you?"

a smirk was settled on jinwoo's handsome face, "honestly, i could have you for a lifetime and it still wouldn't be enough for me."

feeling your fondness for jinwoo also morph into something more powerful, you found that you were unable to say no to his gentle demands, becoming oh so captivated by his eyes as you land against his chest with a smile.

"i guess i may need to apply for some type of visa in order to stay here with you in a more permanent sense."

jinwoo chuckles while tightening his arms around your frame, filled with joy at what was to come-

but little did you know, so long as you agreed to marry him by the end of this year, then you would have no problems remaining forever by his side; he'd make sure of it ♡

a.n. - and with this story, it will be my last one before i start my rotations tomorrow for school! my updates will be semi-active, but i will be kept busy with various assignments 🥹 i just hope that you readers remain patient with me if it does take me a minute to update with new jinwoo stories!

this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted! until then, i hope you readers enjoy reading this!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

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“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin. 

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face. 

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles. 

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down. 

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft. 

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable. 

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch. 

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them. 

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance. 

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe. 

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other. 

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos. 

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows. 

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze. 

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good. 

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him. 

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again. 

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face. 

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat. 

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them. 

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear. 

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more. 

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk. 

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs. 

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell. 

But I didn't lie… 

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips. 

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing. 

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger. 

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt. 

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both. 

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should. 

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body. 

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck. 

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again. 

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it. 

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way. 

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him. 

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there. 

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand. 

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear. 

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch. 

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body. 

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax. 

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough. 

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart. 

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something. 

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe. 

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.” 

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white. 

It was everything you fucking needed. 

And it kept going. 

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you. 

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now. 

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him. 

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets. 

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need. 

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed. 

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other. 

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek. 

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view. 

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you. 

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth. 

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver. 

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him. 

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin. 

You’d never felt safer. 

But memories were still there.

Doffy. 

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law. 

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur. 

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way. 

Leaving. 

Being nothing. 

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern. 

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him. 

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again. 

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready. 

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear. 

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore. 

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[slut4thebroken]

All Work, No Play: hour one

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You meet Jackson at the bar in the hotel you’re staying at and decide to be brave and try something new; a one night stand. But it doesn’t go the way you think.

Warnings | NON CON 18+, sexual content, fingering, vaginal sex, dubious consent, threats of anal rape, degradation, humiliation, misogyny (like so much lol), choking, hickeys, cunniligus, crying, edging, stalking, voyerism, breeding, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation, putting misogyny again lol, objectification, face down ass up🤭, dehumanization, threats of murder and torture, I think that’s everything skdjdk.

Words | 6.5 k

Notes | READ THE WARNINGS. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO VIEW. The last thing I wrote that was this intense was maybe the beginning chapters of exposure therapy or the dark!jason series💀

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

This is the last warning, if you keep reading and find something you don’t like, that’s on you. I have it clearly written what’s in this fic, if you choose to ignore it, don’t be a bitch about it and comment hate or report it ❤️

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Can I sit?” Your head snapped up, finding a man standing behind the empty seat next to you. 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You said awkwardly, clearing your throat and putting your attention on your drink as he sat down. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not usually this forward, but I was wondering if I can buy you a drink?” Your eyes widened and you turned to face him, not expecting that question at all. 

“Um- sure. Thanks.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up when he returned it. He called the bartender over to order his drink, then looked at you expectantly. You ordered, then finished off the rest of the drink you already had— two shouldn’t be too bad. 

“I’m Jackson.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You told him your name in return and he muttered it to himself, testing it out. 

“What brings you here?” You asked, turning toward him to give your full attention. 

“Work. You?” 

“Work.”

“I have to say though, this trip is turning out to be much better than the others.” He gave you a small smile and you tried not to get too overwhelmed with the butterflies in your stomach as you stared at him, wondering almost anxiously about where this was going. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“This time a beautiful girl let me buy her a drink.” You averted your gaze as your face heated up, not used to such sudden compliments like that. 

“I guess I could say the same then.” 

“I don’t believe that.” He scoffed playfully. “You must have men practically lining up to buy you drinks.” 

“Nope… Just you.” You said, embarrassed. Thankfully, the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, giving you a break from his attention. “So how long are you staying here?” You asked, changing the subject. 

“I should only be here one more night. Maybe two depending on how tough the job is.” He shrugged. 

“Oh okay. I’m flying back over the weekend so I’m here for a few more days.” 

“Do you have any personal time or is it all work and no play?” The way he said it made it sound like an innuendo… but you weren't completely certain if it actually was. 

“Well I have enough to sit at a bar and talk to a stranger.” You smiled behind your glass as you took another sip. 

“I see… And what about going someplace quieter with a stranger? Do you have time for that?” He said lowly, making arousal pool in your stomach as his eyes darkened slightly. 

“I think I could spare a bit. It depends on what this stranger wants to do.” 

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say in the middle of a hotel bar.” You eyed him curiously, deciding what to do. You’re not a one night stand type of girl, but he’s hot and you’re a little pent up. 

“Then I guess we should go somewhere you can tell me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he immediately reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet and place some cash on the bar for your mostly untouched drinks. 

He stood and held a hand out for you to take as you got to your feet, letting him lead you over to the elevator. On the ride up, you tried not to let your nerves consume you, but you weren’t doing a very good job of that. The doors opened and he led you to his room, using the key card to open the door, then holding it open for you to walk in first. You looked around the room, finding no luggage and the bed perfectly made as if it hadn’t been slept in yet. 

“How long have you been here for?” You turned to face him as he placed his key card on the dresser and you waited somewhat impatiently for his answer. 

“A few hours. I mostly just have to work tonight.” 

“Oh… Do you need me to go then?” You asked, not understanding why he would invite you here if he had to work.  

“Of course not. How would I get any work done if you left?” Your brows furrowed as you replayed his words in your head, still not understanding. 

“Um… I— What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“I'm gonna be honest, I thought I’d have to try a lot harder to get you to my room.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, but he ignored you. 

“I mean, I know you pretty well by now and I didn’t think you were the type to do one night stands.” You stared at him in confusion, but your stomach was twisting with a sense of complete and utter dread that something bad was about to happen to you. 

“I’m a little tired actually, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” You said, tentatively walking forward, but he remained between you and the door, blocking you. 

“But the night’s just getting started.” 

“Jackson, please move.” You said quietly, gaze shifting between his face and the door. He took a step closer, making you stagger back as he approached. 

“Now that we’re somewhere quieter, I guess I should tell you what I want to do. Or… not what I want, but what I’m going to do.” You were quickly nearing the wall behind you as he kept moving closer. When your back hit it and a small gasp escaped you, he placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you. 

“I need something from you. Depending on your attitude, I’ll either take it, or you’ll give it to me willingly. One of those options will be significantly more painful for you and fun for me.”

“Please let me go.” You whispered, not able to maintain eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suddenly grabbed your cheeks to turn you toward him, making your eyes snap back to his. 

“Beg if you want, but you’re not leaving here any time soon. Not until I get what I want.” He said lowly, words sounding like they once again had a different meaning. 

“What do you want?”  

“Two things. We’ll start with the fun one first.” The hand on the wall dropped down and he snaked it back up your thigh, under your dress. “Which pair did you wear, hm? I hope it’s that red set. The black one’s cute too though.” 

“What?” You said through a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about. The lacy one that you seem to love so much. You take so many pictures of you wearing it and I know you don’t have a boyfriend so who are you sending those to?” He said teasingly. 

“How do you know that?” You whispered, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Same way I know that you like to walk around your apartment naked.” Your stomach twisted at the smirk on his face. 

“I- I don’t understand…” He shushed you before you could finish. Not that you could formulate a response anyway. 

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. For now, let’s do what we came up here for, yeah?” He wasn’t asking you, he was letting you know what was happening, but you weren’t about to go down without a fight. 

“You’re fucking psychotic if you think I’m doing shit with you.” You spat, pushing his hand away when it started moving toward your underwear. 

“Baby… don’t be like that.” He cooed mockingly. “I know how pent up you are so stop being a stubborn bitch and just enjoy it.” He warned, tone significantly harsher than before. 

“Fuck you.” His hand suddenly moved from your face to your neck, squeezing tight enough to make you raise your hands to claw at his arm. You thrashed around in his grip, prompting him to place his leg between your thighs and push his body against yours, mostly immobilizing you. 

“Keep this up and I’ll torture you to get what I need, then kill you and fuck you— in that order.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “Do you understand?” You did your best to nod with his grip on your neck. 

“Yes.” You managed to force out through a wheeze. 

“Good.” His grip loosened significantly and you took in a huge breath, chest heaving to get the much needed oxygen. “Where do you want it? Against the wall? …On the bed?” He asked coyly. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, desperately waiting for him to just say that this was all a joke and he didn’t mean any of it. But he never did. “Bed it is.” He answered for you. 

Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you from the wall and pushed you back toward the bed before practically shoving you onto it. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you on your back, propped up by your elbows to look up at him. 

“Strip.” He demanded, eyes focused only on you. Hesitantly leaning up into a sitting position, you started with your heels, unbuckling the strap then dropping them to the floor— only debating for a moment if you should throw them at him or try something else, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Moving on to your dress, you pulled the zipper down until it loosened and took a deep breath before moving the straps so that the dress fell to around your hips. You lifted your lower half off the bed a little to slide it the rest of the way off, then waited. 

“Please don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you. You know what I want.” He said, all but rolling his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. Your underwear was next, slowly sliding them off and keeping your legs together before covering yourself with your hands. 

“Fuck they’re even better up close.” He groaned, taking off his suit jacket. “Do you know how many times I jerked off just watching you walk around naked? You should really learn to close your blinds, you know. Sure people from the street can’t see you, but I could see you perfectly from the roof on the building across from yours.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, watching as he unbuckled his belt before taking it off. 

“People pay me to.” He said with a  shrug, making you scoff. 

“People are paying you to rape me?” 

“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.” 

“You’re sick.” You hissed. 

“Maybe. But what does that make you?” A smirk was making its way on his lips. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I can see how wet you are.” He said plainly, gaze dropping to your legs. 

“You’re fucking delusional.” You spat. 

“Am I?” He walked over to pick up your discarded— damp— underwear, holding them up for you to see, making your face burn. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been told I’m conventionally attractive and I know you’re into this, even if you won’t admit it.” 

“Into what? Being raped?” You scoffed. 

“Not to that extreme. You want to be forced— dominated against your will. You want me to take what I want from you and trust me, I have every intention of doing that.” 

“Look I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just,” He was on you in a second, roughly shoving you so you were laying down, then holding you there with a hand wrapped tight around your throat. 

“I can’t what?” His voice was low and menacing, a warning. “Hm?” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to panic as your head was starting to feel light again. “That’s what I thought. If you’re done with your tantrum, let’s get started.” You glared at him, teeth grinding together painfully. Despite everything, the fact that you just gave in so easily was what made you feel the worst. You barely put up a fight… and you know why. Because he’s right. You came up here with him because you thought he was attractive and wanted to fuck him. It’s not like you can just turn off that attraction. 

“Please let me go.” You whispered, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation. 

“No.” 

“Then just fucking get it over with already! Do you want help? Is that it?” You reached for his pants and started working on the button, but he released your neck to pull your hands away, holding them in one hand above your head. When you swallowed thickly and turned away from him, he grabbed your neck again, but didn’t squeeze as hard as before. 

“I watched you for weeks. I’m not about to rush things now.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you willed the tears away. You let out a stifled sob, biting your bottom lip when it started trembling again. His mouth was on yours suddenly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips as you tried to flinch away from him. His hand snaked down from your neck to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers in a way that was bordering on painful. 

He trailed kisses over your jaw, down to your neck, then sucked the skin into his mouth, only releasing you when he was satisfied with the darkness of the bruise. Moving to a new place, he did the same thing, leaving hickeys all over your neck and down your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth. You tried to stifle the gasp, but he heard it anyway. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. His hands were pawing at your body, groping your breast and gripping your side to hold you still as you squirmed. He pulled up, looking at you through his lashes with slightly parted lips as he panted. 

“Ready for the fun part?” He smirked and you thought that meant he was going to fuck you, but he kissed down your stomach until he made his way to your legs, settling between them. He pried them apart even more and eyed your sex eagerly, making your cheeks heat up. 

“What are you doing?” You choked out and he tore his eyes away from your cunt to look at you. 

“You thought I’d watch you play with this pretty pussy for so long and not enjoy it?” He scoffed. Before you could protest, he was leaning down and licking a long stripe up your slit. Biting your lip, you swallowed down the moans threatening to escape. He focused mostly on your hole, lapping up your arousal and fucking you with his tongue, all while groaning against you. 

Moving up, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swiftly pushed a finger inside, making you jolt. Your lip was aching because of how hard you were biting it but you couldn’t risk letting out any moans. 

“Please,” You whimpered, trying to push yourself up the bed. In retaliation he inserted another finger, then wrapped his other arm around your thigh, pulling you down onto his hand. “Please stop.” You cried. If anything, your begging made him work harder. 

“Why? Getting close?” He smirked, barely pulling away from your clit to speak. You shook your head with a whimper as the tears finally started to fall. The thing is though… you were getting close. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone someone this talented. 

“Stop...” You whined, bringing your hands down to push at his head. 

“God- I can fucking feel you clenching down on my fingers. You are close aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his lashes with a glint in his eyes. 

“We can’t have that though.” He said, removing his fingers and pulling away from your clit. “Not yet.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered, staring at his figure that was blurry with unshed tears. 

“It’s nothing against you. The job leaves little time for.. personal activities… I saw an opportunity so I took it.” He all but shrugged. Instead of giving you a chance to respond, he pushed his fingers back in and sucked your clit into his mouth again. As his fingers curled against your walls in places that previous partners— and yourself— haven’t even discovered, you couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore. 

“There you go.” He cooed. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your clit before flicking his tongue against it. 

“Stop.” You whined. In response, all he did was force another finger inside. You don’t know how he knew, but the second you neared the edge again, he pulled back, making you whine. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked, slowly curling his fingers against your walls, but keeping his mouth away from your clit. “No boyfriend, no one night stands… Just you and your vibrator.” He chuckled, making your face heat up. “You really like that thing. It’s cute.” 

“Fuck you.” There wasn't even a hint of malice in your tone. Just pure embarrassment and need. 

“Yeah I bet you want that too. Don’t worry, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here before getting my cock in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob and turned your head to the side as your hips started moving against his hand. “I could feel you clench down on my fingers… dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth again. 

As you squirmed under him, you gripped the sheets hard enough to make your fingers hurt so that you wouldn’t move your hands to his hair— knowing you would try to pull him closer rather than push him away. He continued the assault on your cunt, his mouth and fingers creating utterly vulgar sounds that completely filled the room, adding to your humiliation. 

He slowed to a stop again and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from protesting. Once he knew your orgasm had faded, he slowly curled his fingers against your walls as his other hand reached down to pull out his phone. He eyed it, then set it on the bed next to your thigh. 

“If you give me what I want, I can speed all this up and give you what you want.” 

“You’ll let me go?” That made him chuckle. 

“That’s not what you really want.” The worst part is that it wasn’t… You wanted your orgasm that he’s been teasing you with for the past few minutes. 

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” You said, changing the subject. 

“Right to business then. Alright.” He removed his fingers suddenly and your hips flinched forward, chasing the pleasure. “I need to know the code to disarm the alarm at your work.” 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have access to that.” You said nervously, making him sigh. 

“Please don’t waste my time. Tell me and I’ll make you come. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to more… unconventional methods.” You tried not to scoff at that— how is this not already unconventional? 

“What are you going to do with it?” 

“I’m not going to do anything. All I have to do is to get you to talk, by any means necessary, and I’m very dedicated to my job. That’s why I stalked you for a couple weeks— to get to know you.” Your breath caught in your throat at the admission. How did you not notice that you were being stalked for weeks? “Unfortunately your family isn’t in the picture and you don’t really have friends— you definitely don’t have a boyfriend. All of that really limited my options. Luckily I like a challenge.” He smirked and you waited anxiously for where he was going with this. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tortured people before. But after watching you for so long, I knew I needed to do something special. You deserve so much more than just water boarding or a beating.”

“You’re fucking sick.” You whispered, trying not to cry at the fact that this was not his worst.

“I could’ve threatened to rape you instead— obviously I still would’ve done it after I got what I wanted— but I had a feeling you’d respond better to this. So, you give me what I want and I’ll make you come, it’s as simple as that.” 

“Fuck you.” You spat, making him chuckle and check the clock on the nightstand for the time. 

“I’m trying to be nice, sweetheart, but if you don’t give me what I want… I will hurt you.” He condescended. “And not in a normal way— no, that would be a missed opportunity.” He leaned over you until his breath fanned your lips. “You don’t give me what I want, and I fuck your ass instead. No lube, no prep, just my fat cock splitting you open until you beg for mercy.” He said lowly. You tried not to show any outward signs of fear, but judging by the look on his face, you knew you were unsuccessful. “And I won’t give it to you. I’ll keep fucking you until you eventually pass out from the pain, but even then I still won’t stop. You’ll tell me everything I want to know and more, just to have the slightest chance of me stopping.” Your body trembled as you stared up at him, watching his gaze move all over your face as he studied you. 

“Now,” He whispered, “are you going to give me what I want or am I going to have to hurt you?” Your brows furrowed as you thought, trying not to cry. Maybe he’s bluffing? “Is this really worth getting raped in the ass over?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. When you remained silent, paralyzed in fear, he hummed and pursed his lips, then leaned back up. He flipped you onto your stomach and when you heard the zipper on his pants go down, you started thrashing. He placed a firm hand on your upper back to hold you down as he freed his cock. 

“Wait!” You yelled, when you felt his length brush your ass. “Wait— please, I- I’ll tell you, just please don’t.” You cried, anxiously awaiting his next move. “Please— I’m sorry, Jackson. I’ll tell you.” You rushed out, breathing growing more labored as panic and fear consumed you. 

“If you lie, I’ll know, and I’ll do it anyway.” 

“I- I won’t, I promise.” You whimpered as he picked up the phone, then a moment later, held it to his ear. 

“Yeah.. Are you ready for it?” You listened anxiously. “Go ahead.” He said, talking to you now. You told him and he repeated it back into the phone. “Good. Alright, let me know.” He tossed the phone back onto the bed. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You were starting to relax now that the threat wasn’t there anymore, but calming down made you feel all of the other emotions at the same time— anger for being stupid enough to fall for his charm, shame for enjoying the way he was pleasuring you, guilt for betraying your work so easily, and worst of all, desperation. You were desperate for more, and both of you knew that. 

You let out a choked sob and he removed his hand from your back but you didn’t move, you just buried your face into the sheets and cried. 

“You’re a crier?” He said, almost disgusted. “Those are the worst people to work with— actually I shouldn’t say people. It’s the women who cry, and usually before I even get to the fun part. The men that do cry at least wait until after they’ve been tortured for a while.” You couldn’t respond, not when you were focusing so hard on trying to take in oxygen through sporadic breaths with your face in the sheets. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing on your lungs anymore. 

“God- will you quit it already?” He snapped, making you flinch. He suddenly leaned over you, his cock laying heavy on your ass. He brushed your hair back to see your face, then roughly grabbed a fistful to turn your head enough to make eye contact. “As long as you didn’t lie, you have nothing to worry about… So what’s the problem?” You knew he wasn’t genuinely asking.  

“I- I,” You couldn’t hold down the sob crawling up your throat. “Please don’t. Please— I gave you what you want.” You whimpered, making him raise his brows, as if to say, really?

“Have you ever been raped before?” He suddenly asked, making you let out another quiet sob. 

“No…”   

“You’ll live.” He shrugged, as if that made it better. “Sure you’ll think about this every day for the rest of your life and you’ll hate yourself for craving it again, but you’ll survive.” You let out a stifled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “You won’t even hate me more than you’ll hate yourself, you know why? Cause all I did was give you what you want. You’re the sick fuck who actually enjoyed being raped.” 

“Please stop.” You whimpered, wincing when he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“I bet you really do want me to rape your ass. Are you just being coy, baby?” He cooed and you violently shook your head to disagree. “Let me ask again.” He reached down and shoved two fingers in your cunt. “Do you want me to rape your ass?” He repeated, barking out a laugh when you sobbed harder, but clenched down on his fingers. “God you’re fucking disgusting. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, who would want to date a girl who practically belongs in a brothel for fucks sake?” He started moving his fingers inside you, making you choke on a moan. 

“Actually— not even that. You’re not worth any amount of money. You belong on the streets, just a free use whore for anyone who needs a warm hole to fuck, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered weakly. 

“Did I strike a nerve?” He cooed mockingly, curling his fingers inside you just a little bit faster. “Surely with a body like this you must be used to people objectifying you by now.” You weren’t. At least not to your face. 

“How’d you even get your job, huh? You fuck your boss?” You bit the inside of your cheek to try and ground yourself, not let your emotions consume you. “Did this run through little cunt get you a promotion? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure the only reason you were hired was so that your coworkers could have a pretty little thing to look at everyday.” He snickered. Even though you knew that everything he was saying wasn’t true, tears were still brimming in your eyes from his words. 

“Sluts like you are the worst kind. No one likes it when you play hard to get, that defeats the whole purpose of being a whore.” He removed his fingers from your cunt, making you hiss at the sudden loss. When he leaned back up and picked up his phone, you didn’t turn to face him, you just remained still. 

“Lucky girl. Thank you for your cooperation.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Now that business is done, I’d say we’re long overdue for some pleasure, wouldn’t you? Get up on your knees.” He moved off of you to let you rise up, but quickly stopped you. “Did I say on your hands? You don’t deserve to be fucked with dignity.” He roughly shoved your head forward until you landed against the mattress with a grunt. “You deserve to be fucked like the whore you are. Now stick that ass up, you don’t want me to tell you again.” You adjusted your position on your knees and felt the bed shift as he moved behind you. 

“Jackson, please.” You whimpered, turning your head to the side so he could hear you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He ignored you and lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the thick head through your folds, spreading your arousal. 

“You better hope your whore pussy isn’t too loose because if you can’t make me feel good, I’ll have to use a different hole.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed the tip of his cock against your asshole, making you stiffen. He quickly went back down to your cunt, then applied some pressure. When your walls finally gave in to the intrusion, you cried out at the stretch and tried to move away, making him grab your hips to hold you still. 

“Ah, ah, ah— keep that fucking back arched.” He placed a hand on you and pushed down until your lower back was bent uncomfortably. “That’s it. Good little slut… Ready for more?” Before you could answer, his hips were snapping forward until he was flush with your ass, making you all but scream at the sudden force. Because of his hand holding you down, you couldn’t move away and the pressure of his hips against your ass was bending your back almost painfully. 

“Huh… Tighter than I thought it’d be.” He said, almost to himself. And you had to keep from saying ‘no fucking shit’ because of the way he was stretching your walls to their limit. He started up a slow, but hard pace, dragging out, then snapping back in. Each thrust made you scream and he moved his hand from your hip to push your face into the sheets. 

“Jesus- shut the fuck up already. You may want everyone in this damn hotel to know that you’re being fucked stupid right now, but I don’t. My line of work requires discretion.” Your moans quieted a bit and he let go of your head and leaned back up. 

“And just so we’re on the same page, sweetheart, if you attract any attention and someone comes to the room, I’ll kill them and then you. I don’t need you alive for this part so you better do everything you can to convince me not to break your fucking neck.” He growled and you let out a muffled sob. His thrusts sped up, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you’d stay quiet. 

“God- you fucking love this shit, don’t you? I might even have to keep you as a full time fuck toy.” You whimpered at the horrible thought, even though it made your clit throb. “Yeah I bet you’d like that too. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything else but pleasing me— no job, no social life, I’d take the burden completely off your shoulders and let you live the way you were meant to; as a worthless little fleshlight, desperate for cock anywhere you can get it.” 

You’ve never been talked to like this before. Sure, past partners have indulged in some of your kinks, but never to this extent, and never this well. You could feel your mind slipping away from you too. The longer he fucked you, the harder it was to remember why you didn’t want him to.  

“Are you on birth control?” He suddenly asked. You were confused about why he would care about being safe now, when you’re already in the middle of the act. 

“No…?”

“Of course you’re not. God it’s like you’re fucking begging to be knocked up.” You suddenly realized how this night was going to end and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured on your head. 

“W-wait,” You started lifting yourself into your elbows, but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you down, keeping you there as he shushed you. 

“There's no need to panic. It’s your own fault for not protecting yourself.” You let out a choked sob and he pushed you down harder into the bed to muffle your sounds. “And anyway, this is what you were made for so how about you just stop fucking whining and be a good little breeding bitch.” You were crying again now, almost hyperventilating into the sheets, but he didn’t let up, he just held you down harder and fucked you faster. 

“I can’t say I necessarily want kids myself but maybe every nine months I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder— let you really fulfill your life’s purpose.” You couldn’t tell if this was a meaningless threat or not. “I’ll still whore you out during the nine months though, don’t worry. I’m not completely cruel.” He snickered. His thrusts were growing more erratic now and his breathing was getting more and more labored. 

“Don’t you like that idea, baby? I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and let all of those disgusting men that you pretend you’re above have a turn with whichever hole they want. You’ll be so fucking covered in come by the end of it that you won’t even recognize yourself.” He roughly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back uncomfortably, making you cry out. “I’d still have my fun with you though, don’t worry. No matter how many cocks you take in those pathetic little fuck holes, you’ll still be mine.” The softness of his tone was a harsh contrast to his words, making your head spin. The speed in which he pulled out and flipped you over made your head spin even more though. He leaned back over you and grabbed your cheeks with one hand while the other positioned his cock at your entrance again, pushing back in. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He said quietly and your brows furrowed as you looked away. “Tell me, baby. Tell me this whore body is mine to use however I want.” You whined loudly and he gripped your face tighter. 

“I’m yours.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling. He jerked his hand back and slapped you across the cheek before placing it on your neck and squeezing hard. You looked away from him as a scared whimper escaped you. 

“What was that?” 

“I’m yours! I- I’m yours…” You sobbed out. His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk. 

“Tell me you’re only good for being my cocksleeve.” 

“I- I’m only good for being your cocksleeve.” You whimpered. 

“Tell me you’re my breeding bitch whose only purpose is to make babies and take cock.” He growled, grip tightening on your neck. You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, then shook your head. “You know it’s true so fucking tell me.” He warned, pushing down on your windpipe until you gasped for air. 

“I’m your breeding- bitch whose only purpose is…” You were actually struggling to breathe now, barely able to get the words out, but he didn’t seem to care, “to make babies and take cock.” You wheezed, making him loosen his grip. You gasped in a breath as your chest heaved. 

“That’s right. Now… I know I said if you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want… and I can feel how your pathetic cunt’s about to cream all over my cock, but… like you said, your only purpose is to make babies and take cock. Breeding bitches don’t need orgasms.” The choked sob you let out was probably the worst part of all of this because it was genuine. You really were getting close and you were looking forward to that release— for one moment to just forget what was happening. 

“No- no, please.” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears for an entirely new, more humiliating, reason. “Please, Jackson, I’ve been good. I- I did what you said— I gave you what you wanted.” You cried, bottom lip wobbling. 

“I know, honey.” He cooed condescendingly. “Other than the insolence and fighting back, you’ve been so good, haven’t you?” Your frown deepened at that. 

“Please, I’m sorry— I’m sorry, just please let me come,” Your voice had a whiny edge to it that you couldn’t control. 

“You poor thing… Look at me, baby, there you go.” Once you were staring into those hypnotizing blue eyes, he continued, voice much lower now. “I want you… to remember this moment. I want you to remember the way you begged your rapist to let you come.” You swallowed down a whimper, throat bobbing under his hand. 

“The next time you think you’re anything more than a pair of tits and a set of holes, think of this moment.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your trembling lip, trying not to cry. No matter how much you wished to deny it though, his words had you barreling toward your orgasm. “Do you understand?” He asked softly and you nodded, making his grip tighten on your neck. 

“Yes.” You whispered, voice shaking. 

“Good. Now I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining.” He said, pulling out, then flipping you back onto your knees and pushing your head down as he filled you again. He was chasing his orgasm now— his thrusts growing more frenzied and desperate, quiet grunts getting just a little bit louder. He brought his other hand up to join the one on your back, using it to hold himself up and keep you down at the expense of your lungs and breathing. 

“God- I can feel your pathetic little fuck hole clenching down on my cock. Are you close?” All you could do to respond was make a muffled noise against the sheets. “You better not fucking come.” He spat. “You don’t want that pretty neck broken do you?” He asked, softer, making you let out a loud sob. 

He was pounding you ruthlessly now, hips smacking your ass so hard you’d probably bruise. His balls hitting your clit with every thrust made you jolt each time and it was getting harder to stave off your orgasm. His movements started to slow but became rougher, almost pushing you forward from the intensity. When he finally stilled with a low groan, you whined and shifted uncomfortably. You could feel hot come filling you up with each twitch of his cock and every time he tried to push a little deeper, your back arched even more, to the point where it was starting to hurt, rather than just feel uncomfortable. He let out a heavy breath and pulled out, then sat back on his heels as he pulled your folds apart. 

Hour two

(I know it’s cut kind of awkwardly but this one shot turned into 18k words so I had to cut it somewhere skdhdk)

I have some questions rq. Pls answer🙏🏻

I was maybe thinking of saying “hour 1” etc instead of “part 1” for each part since.. yk it takes place over the course of serveral hours lol. Is that dumb? Should I just keep it as “part 1”?

Also I chose the title when the fic was only the length of part 1 and im not sure if I should keep it or not so lmk if you think I should make it something that relates to the whole fic rather than just one comment in the first part lol

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (didn’t let me tag ->) @deceitfuldevout @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @aviamulier @xxorazz

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the babbit masterpost

HELLO welcome to the Babbit's Blog masterpost!!! On this post you'll find some fun facts about yours allegedly (me <33), some ref's for my different 'sona's, and a couple links to my fics and whatnot! Are you ready? No?? Excellent neither am i let's do this

Meet the Babbits!: the self-inserts/personas

the first ref is for my general/most commonly used persona, Babbit! They aren't really an anthro/furry as much as they are a humanoid with the head of a rabbit. I like to think of this one as the 'me' that's in my head- the purest form of my thoughts and feelings, but not the solid real-life me. The second ref is my self-insert persona, Rabbit, the one i picture using most often when i'm reading a fic or imagining a self-insert scenario lol. This one is like the me that people see and meet and speak to in real actual life, if that makes sense. It's the way I come across to people and all of the things I wish I could iron out of my crumpled up real-self <3 The third is a much more specific 'sona, Hazel, who started off as a FNaF:SB animatronic self-insert. She does have a backstory and lore now, which i think makes her more of an OC than a self-insert, but a lot of her is still me and a lot of what she experiences in her backstory is from my life/instills the same feelings that were taken away from things that happened to me, so I think she kinda counts enough to put a ref for her here sdkjfsdhfj (Why the different names?: makes things a little easier, and they hold meaning to me symbolically, I guess!)

Content!: Here's a short list of my various fics that will get updated as I create more! (it was, in reality, not fine.): FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader fanfic, gender neutral, for general audiences, fluff-fest, idiots to lovers "You're the new tech/repairman at the Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex, unfortunately. Your first task? To make the Daycare Attendant into two separate animatronics. It's an amazing opportunity, really, and there is nothing you love more than getting a chance to really work with such tech! The only bad part is that you don't know how to tell anyone that you just might be in over your head. (You are extremely in over your head.)" After Everything Was Fixed (but you were still broken): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x (Animatronic) Reader, gender neutral, read with caution, angst, harm to sentient robots, traumatized main character, hurt/comfort slow burn, romance slow burn "The virus was gone. Everyone was fixed. You had been put back together. It's a time for a new beginning, to do things right this time, to wash away the past and paint a better future. Their memories of the infection had- mercifully- been taken away from them. Yours had not. He doesn't understand why you try to avoid him. Even if you could tell him, you're not sure you would. You want to be his friend, but it's difficult; every time you see him, you remember the hundreds of times he killed you." A fic where you are a repairman-themed STAFFbot, taking place post-virus. In the past, Moon, infected by the virus, took delight in attacking and dismantling the reader during the night. Now, in the present, you find yourself burdened by the memories of the past while everyone around you has no recollection of the events. It gets more complicated as Sun and Moon, both now cleared of the virus, grow curious of you. This fic will follow a series of arcs, presently on arc one. For anyone curious, feel free to send an ask about the arcs in 'After Everything Was Fixed'! The Sun, the Moon, and the Blazing Comet (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Reader, gender neutral, teen and up audiences, travel/journey, betrayal, hurt/comfort slowburn, reconciling, themes of breaking the mold, found family (TBA) Hold My Broken Hands (title subject to change): AU FNaF Sun/Moon x Reader, gender neutral, mature audiences, dark romance, dark comedy, severe bodily harm, mutilation, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, lovesick (TBA)

My AU's!: i'm going to make a Babbit-AUs-Masterpost and then put the link here i swear, i just have so many im sorry jdfhsjdfhs (like more than twenty)

Fandoms!: I enjoy, have been in, made or make content for: Pokemon Undertale FNaF Creepypasta (YEAH I KNOW LET ME LIVE OKAY) My Little Pony (I KNOW OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE) Steven Universe Star Trek Warrior Cats i'm sure theres more but i just forgot everything i have ever liked wheeeeeze

Whomst the hell?: HI I'm Rabbit! Or Bones! Or Babbit! Or Avarice/Ava, if you want to go for a more legitimate-sounding name. I'm 24 years old, prefer to use they/them pronouns, and so, so incredibly ace. I've been drawing as long as I've had the ability to hold a pen, writing since I was in grade school, and being a plague to the ones around me since the beginning of time! If you've seen my art, its probably from the absolute mountain of fluffy-wuffy love-dovey (y/n) x Sundrop/Moondrop/Eclipse doodles I've been sharing for several years now sdfjhsdj. If you've heard of my fics, it was probably the one I made just for fun that's now turned into an actual fanfiction that I enjoy writing, the silly-lovey-fluff incarnate (it was, in reality, not fine.) !

Likes n Dislikes!: I'm a sucker for sap, fluff, and lots and lots of love-dovey bullshit! I also like stories about finding oneself and monsters being befriended or loved. I like space, aliens, robots, the odd and strange, injecting humanity into things not human, monsters, creatures, animals, the fae, concepts of spirits and karma and the afterlife, and more! I dislike 'fanservice', most anime tbh LOL it's not personal I just don't enjoy it im srry, FLY BABIES i know they have an actual name but i hate that word too pls just dont i will scream, sexually aggressive/forceful content/characters, being made to feel small, dumb, or trapped,

Other!: I have a pretty high gross-out tolerance! I also have a pretty high 'wow that's messed up huh' tolerance, in that sometimes I will just say stuff that's super grim or dark or messed up and not realize it lmao. I am full of random facts and anecdotes, especially weird or gross ones! sometimes i get on tangents that can go for actual hours so pls forgive that lol

WARNINGS: THIS BLOG MAY FEATURE CONTENT BASED ON/RELATED TO THEMES OF GUILT, CHILDHOOD LOSS, GRIEF, SELF HATRED, DISCONNECTION FROM REALITY/SELF, TRAUMA, AND SEVERE DEPRESSION/ANXIETY. YES I AM GETTING HELP. YES I AM OKAY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND UNDERSTANDING.

bonus persona: crybaby

[tteokdoroki]

˚✧₊・🍉 — SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA !

hello everyone!! i wanted to join the writing project ficsforgaza with the intention of raising more awareness and hopefully donations for the ongoing cause. i am a little slow on writing but hopefully this will motivate myself and others for a good cause <3!

rate: $1 USD per 100 words !

instructions: please follow this link and donate to a vetted fund of your choosing. after doing so, send an off-anon ask to myself including the following: a redacted screenshot as proof (hiding any personal information), a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to, the name of the wip you’re sponsoring.

example: hi aali! i have donated to help mashael and her family. i would like to sponsor an alternative to grief [ screenshot showing $5 usd has been donated - equivalent to 500 words ]

i will not be publishing asks, but for transparency, will be keeping a record of evidence to send to @ficsforgaza — this is to ensure individuals are not reusing screenshots sent to myself or other writers. the wips will be updated regularly.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 wips disclaimer ! - they are below the cut.

there will also be a donation goal for each wip just to ensure that I don’t get overwhelmed! i work full time and write a little slow, but the main goal is to raise awareness and donate to an important cause. there are various lengths available, subject to change but dont worry if i don’t have anything you fancy! please check out the other authors who are apart of this project!

note: minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, nsfw and dark content is included in the wips below.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 current wips available !

an alternative to grief; katsuki bakugou.

tags ! pro hero!bakugou, nurse!reader, strangers to lovers, dating after loss, children, therapy, grief, hurt comfort, fluff, angst, smut + part one of three.

with the sudden death of your husband, you find yourself alone with a son, angry at the world and in the corner of a therapy group specifically for grieving spouses of pro heroes. it isn’t until you lock eyes with a familiar, formidable red that you come to realise… there is happiness after death and alternatives to grief.

current word count: 7,545/10,000+

donation goal word count: 580/5,000

my doll; eijirou kirishima.

tags ! pro hero!au, soft dom!kirishima, dumbification, dollification, smut + dark content.

eijirou kirishima was born with an innate desire to protect, to give, to dominate and perhaps that is why he slowly begins to take over your life, treating you as though you’re some dainty little doll…belonging only to him.

current word count: 2,647/3,500

donation goal word count: 1,000/1,000

something i thought belonged to me; izuku midoriya.

tags ! pro hero!au, college!au, strangers to friends to lovers, coming of age, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut.

after abandoning your dream school to start anew and get away from your shitty ex, you adopt a stray l cat to cope with your lonesome…only to find out the pro hero exchange student next door has had the exact same idea.

current word count: 134/15,000+

donation goal word count: 2240/5,000

swingsets; yuuji itadori.

tags ! college!au, small town!au, summer romance, coming of age, first loves, self discovery, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut, part one of many.

everyone always says you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. but life moves quick and yuuji itadori has only one year left of his degree to figure out what it is that he wants. making it big in the big city of tokyo isn’t all what it’s cut out to be, so he decides to return to his roots, and indirectly, return to you. OR a jjk small town!au where each sorry connects to another. this is the story of yuuji itadori, reconnecting with his first love.

current word count: 0/20,000+

donation goal word count: 1820/5,000

other ways to help can be found here and here.

— all rights reserved © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-2024. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 7

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: In the Keep now as a guest rather than a prisoner, the Tarnished gets used to her new surroundings.

A/N: Tarnished had the last laugh in the last chapter, and Messmer is all the more grumpy about it. Tarnished also really loves calling Messmer 'My Lord' as a mocking title.

A03 link

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Chapter 7: Vindication

"Impressive, the stab wound has healed remarkably!"

Remarkable, you say? Lowering your shirt as Sir Aldwin finishes assessing your injuries. Your body feels energised and rejuvenated once you've awoken by the golden site of grace, embraced by its warmth, only for the reality of being back to hit you in the face. It was always a constant disappointment. 

Aldwin is as fascinated in your revival as are Messmer's men: calling it some fate from the Greater Will. You called it sheer humiliation. 

"This process... tell me about it." Aldwin is ever more curious about the ways of unnatural order. Something flashes in your waking mind, as clear as a living dream. Of a memory you cannot tell if it belonged to you, holding an ornate sword, covered in someone's blood or your own. Experiencing dying for the first time. Waking up in a place, dark and cold, only just remembering your name.

You shudder, trying to think of something else. "I'm uncertain I could explain it all to you, Aldwin. It's... still so unfamiliar to me. Why I was chosen." You hold out your hands, staring deep and hard. These hands, this body, this is not your first life. You would need answers, and the curiosity of walking past the large specimen storehouse piques your interest.

Aldwin seems disappointed but he seems to understand. "He who doesn't fear death shall only have to die once. I have seen it many times in the dying." His words carry a sense of acceptance, though you cannot think of dying over and over again the same way. It is not the acceptance of it that men dread, but its arrival.

"Aldwin, I must ask you something." You bring the Nightfolk's attention back after changing the subject quickly. "The storehouse, who uses it?"

"Well, it is rather a place of collection that his Lord uses for gathering everything known: the history, the arts, culture. It has become his very own gallery."

"And does he... allow anyone else to use it?"

Aldwin seems confused by your question before he pieces it together. "Ah, well, it would be odd if it was not used. Many in his Lord's libraries pour into the histories, using that knowledge to piece a clearer timeline." He pauses, eyeing you carefully, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Before the Nightfolk can answer any more, there is a growing sound of heavy armour approaching. You're already looking to the doors when you see who comes around the corner, a black knight, armour gleaming like Obsidian, Messmer's personal guard has come to greet you.

"Lady Tarnished," His voice is muffled behind the heavy imposing helmet, covering the entirety of his face, "Lord Messmer has asked that I show you to your apartments."

You look to Aldwin, before facing the black knight once again. You're surprised to hear of your new title, questioning to yourself whether it was something the staff and knights had come up with or something higher up ordered them to address you by. "So, I'm not bound to that cell anymore?"

"Nay, milady. His Lord has also asked that a tour of the Keep is given."

You say your goodbyes to Aldwin, relieved he cannot ask more about your whole life and death process, following grudgingly behind the knight. You pass many of those under Messmer's control, all willing soldiers ready to die for his honour. It's amazing and chilling to see the amount of power one can hold, but also the loyalty they have for him. 

You pass by those who are still surprised their Lord has given you his protection. They whisper as they pass you in corridors: a Tarnished who came back from the dead. It's rather comical to hear, for them to create their theories and marvel as you go past. Some are still hesitant around you, others are cold and look through you, as if you don't exist in your eyes. A few of Messmer's staff have grown to give you a bit more respect.

When you reach the highest of the towers, towards the Keep's chambers, does it dawn on you that it would only be you and Messmer in this part since it was the royal apartments, and though you knew you were not part of some royal branch, this was all very unfamiliar to you.

Your apartments were certainly something to marvel at; a canopied bed was big enough to fit maybe five of you, decorated with embroidered cushions and sheets of a deep rich red hue. A roaring fire hit you in contrast to the coolness of the air outside. Intricate tapestries decorated the walls, of faces you didn't recognise, others, from their red hair were obvious. There, in the middle of the mantle above the flames, was a portrait of Marika, holding in her arms the same clothed babe, this time it was obvious from the details that there were two tiny serpent heads poking out surrounding the babe. 

A vanity was present beside a desk by the stained-glass windows, oddly barred from the outside with spikes not allowing anyone to crack them wider than a few inches. There had been a chest opened with a variety of clothes already out for you to touch and gawk at. It had been far grander than you had expected, far better of a place than sleeping in the mud and rain, fearing to catch a chill.

Messmer had provided you with maids-in-waiting, women of different ages who all curtsied as you greeted them. How odd, indeed. 

Turning to the guard, still hovering in the doorway to your room, you asked. "This is all been provided to me by his Lord?"

"His Lord did not say otherwise." The guard muttered curtly, and before you could have more of a chance to get used to your room and look around, you were being whisked away, back down the tower and into the main part of the keep to be shown around. By the time it was almost over, you felt exhausted, not realising the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time you had eaten something properly, but you did not doubt that Messmer's staff would provide some proper meals for you.

The tour was not quite over, until the final part you had been very excited to see appeared to you. 

The high walls, decorated with thousands of books, and artefacts, were a sea in your vision, clear and bright. You could sense if you didn't have to return to your chambers, you would spend days here, looking at every book if you could and finding more information for you to take in. 

Light poured through, casting bright streaks of light to come through like the heavens had opened and poured through. It was a hearth of endless knowledge, stored in what you thought was maybe one of the best citadels you had come across. 

Marvelling silently to yourself, you could not help but have to look to every section as quickly as you could, trying to best believe where you would begin in your pursuit for knowledge, when something, or rather someone caught your eye. Standing in the corner by piles of books towering high, was an armoured man, his silver-white long beard a familiar sight to you. 

"Righteous Tarnished, what brings you here?"

"I could ask the same for you, Sir Ansbach. How did you find your way here?" You're wary of how he's been allowed to step foot through the Keep without all of Messmer's soldiers on him. Surely, there has to be some misunderstanding? 

"Kindly Miquella's charm has worn off from me. I have seen through his ways." He says earnestly.

"What insight of Lady Leda do you have?"

"She schemes and her blind love for Miquella has set her astray. It did the same to me, blinding me to his charm. Truly, there is nothing so Kindly about him. He's a monster. It is why I have come to Messmer not only for his aid but to seek shelter. There will be no doubt Leda and the others will hear of my betrayal."

You feel your eyeball twitch involuntarily at the mention of seeking shelter. "You mean Messmer handed it to you willingly?"

"Yes, did he do the same for you?"

"No, no he did not." Of course, he didn't.

"Ah, what challenge did you have to do to prove your worth?"

"By bringing Redmane Freyja's head."

Ansbach is silent by this, but when he responds, his voice wavers, "Ah, I see. A true Redmane, to the very end." He is resolute in his decisions, you note. "Then we are both running from the injustices of this world. I stand as your ally through and through, Tarnished."

You don't give much to rethink Ansbach's words, as you're stalking back to your chambers in a huff. Your cheeks are hot in rage as you storm into your apartments, dismissing the maids there. You look out the window, to see it is already dark. Exhaustion has claimed you, and when you expect to go to your new bed, you find sitting on the desk is a meal, still steaming with heat.  

It's a simple bowl of something that looks like stewed chicken in a sauce with a small cut of bread freshly prepared. Eyeing it cautiously, your hunger betrays you before you can believe it was all to have you poisoned, grabbing the spoon and delving into the meal. You come to realise it's chicken stewed in an ale sauce. You can taste other ingredients like pepper, ginger, breadcrumbs and even saffron. The bread is not stale or covered in mould, and you appreciate the warmth that comes from it, hinting that it had just come fresh out of the oven. You also find in the room two pitchers, one full of fresh water, the other with wine. 

You don't waste time after finishing your meal to grab a glass and delve into drinking the water first, two glasses of it before you drink the red wine, full of body and richness. It hits your tongue with unexpectedness. It tastes almost familiar to you, though you can't quite place when or how you tasted wine that belonged to the royal house.

Now that you've eaten, you can finally think back to Sir Ansbach's words, thinking to the storehouse, but most importantly, to Messmer. It was only did you realised since your revival, that you had not spotted him for a full day, being whisked away to the infirmary rather than to be seen by him again. Had he been avoiding you since you bested him at his own game?

You look at the portrait of Marika and a baby Messmer in her arms. It seems through all his isolation, he has few allies and fewer allies. He is a lonely demigod, but a man still is part of him. All men need companionship, no matter how small. You thought, dressing in a simple white shift dress as you got into bed, praying that whatever you found in the darkness of your dreams, awaited you was finally peace.

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

It is maybe the first time in what feels like forever that you get the first night of unbroken sleep. A dreamless sleep is however all you need to feel alive. Dawn rises as do you, triggering the door to your chambers to be rudely opened, pouring in are your new handmaidens who come, already pulling back the curtains as they present you with a flurry of things: clothes to wear for today, a suggestion of a bath, and jewels that would suit you well. The bombardment of options is so much that you opt firstly for a bath, which is given quickly when they go back and forth providing already hot steamy water.

Your private tub is smaller than the one in the bathhouse and you're thankful for it, for it gives you your privacy away from those as you scrub yourself and clean your hair. When you're dried and dressed in a simple cotton shift, the maids once again present you with many options for clothing, and it is only when you cast your eye on them, that you come to realise something.

"Is there anything else here than dresses?"

One of the maids, younger than you eyes the eldest, unsure how to answer. "My lady," the eldest responds, "We were given direct orders that these were what were to be provided to you-"

"Ordered you say? By whom?" You already know by who, but it twists in your gut and anger rises in your throat.

"Lord Messmer had asked we provide you a ... fitting selection of dresses that would be appropriate for you."

You scowl at all the garments, all oddly enough differing shades of red. Is this some kind of twisted joke to him? You seethe, telling yourself the next time you see him, you will give him a piece of your mind. You cross your arms like a child having a mild tantrum. "I refuse to wear them."

"My Lady-"

"If Messmer wishes for me to play dress up, he can think otherwise. I require trousers, boots and a decent tunic instead."

The maids give one another side-eye glances, bowing quickly before some go on the hunt for your request. It takes some time before they find what you ask for: some of the knights had some spare which you're thankful for, however, the tunic they do find had to be brightly coloured crimson. You huff through it all but finally dress, more comfortable than you would've been in silk dresses.

"Where is Lord Messmer?" If he wishes to play games so early this morning, you're not going to stop yourself from competing against him.

"His Lord is breaking his fast privately this morning, my Lady. We shall bring you to the solace where you may have yours."

You silently grumble, being led into another isolating room, windows barred against the stained-glass windows, with a hint of peppermint heavy in the air. You sit as you're presented with an array of dishes: dried berries with apples, salted cod and rye, bacon and sausages spiced with something that stings your nostrils, and a cup of what you're told is nettle tea.

You begin with the fruits, which are sweet on your tongue and better than anything you have before. The sausages entice you as you pluck one and cut into it, where the smell is stronger. Curiously biting into it, you're surprised by its almost sweet taste, with a hint of heat that makes you nearly cough. You wash it down with the tea as you eat some bacon and bread too, before you are done.

Your morning has you continuing your exploration of the keep, certainly aware you're not wandering alone, for you hear the heavy thuds that move in time with your footsteps. You look back a few times, eyeing the fire knight who seems just five paces behind, following intently and keeping an eye on you. It had you greatly irritated, trying to lose track of him but to no avail. 

It is only when you come outside to the training yard that your sights are taken by what has gathered in front of you.

Before you, Messmer's soldiers train, the clanging of swords, some metal and wood, clash with one another. You take in those of a lower rank, trainees who fight one another as they're taught the best stances and positions. Those of more experience duel with the intent of knocking their opponent to the ground. It is far more interesting to see what is indoors, and you find yourself stepping closer and closer to the ring that has formed around one certain fight.

A soldier wielding a wooden spear and shield is knocked onto his back like a turtle, struggling to get up from the weight of the shield, when his opponent launches on him, triumphantly holding the tip of his sword under his chin. "You'd be dead." You hear from the victor, his voice muffled yet there is a charm as those around him cheer him on. The one who lost gets picked back up as he slinks away, the cockiness of the victor is embued in him.

"Who dares best me I wonder? Any one of you fools brave enough to fight me?"

"I will." 

Heads turn as you step into the middle, and whispers can be heard as some aren't certain what to do with you. Should they allow someone from outside to train with them? It is only when you hear amongst the chatter the taunting laughter of the soldier in front. "You? Trust me, Tarnished, I wouldn't wish to have you spilling your guts all over the courtyard." There is some quiet laughter amongst some of the soldiers, but you pay them no attention.

"Oh, no need to fret. I'm feeling the need to knock some teeth in." You're looking at your selection of weapons, realising all of them are wooden props. Great, all the more to enjoy whacking than slicing. You pick a wooden sword, light in its hold, it's shorter than your nagakiba, but it will still be of some use to you.

You both get into your positions, knees slightly bent, torsos upright and rigid as you await him to swing first. He is cocky and does so, charging you as you swiftly dodge out his way, slapping him as he passes across his lower back. He grunts, rage building as he goes to attack again, this time you block as you push him back, jabbing another time just below his armpit in the part where armour is not covering him.

"My, did you have a heavy breakfast?" You taunt, smiling throughout. It's only now that you're enjoying this, the thrill of not having to strain yourself, and you feel you could taunt them forever. These are Messmer's men, loyal, but in need of good training. What would they do if you or another Tarnished were in the field to meet them? A warrior with years of experience compared to a page.  

 Though this opponent is quick and skillful, he is full of rage, one that could evenly match the raging flames Messmer channels. The soldier cries out as he lunges again, taking a hit whilst you're distracted, and you give him the benefit of the doubt, it did hurt. You copy by getting him by the shoulder blades, hearing a crunch of your sword as it almost snaps from how hard you hit him. It's enough to have him stagger forwards to his knees, as you stand over him.

"That was easier than I expected-"

You see the glimpse of his vicious grin through the visors of his helmet, so fast does he move and have you believe it's all done that you only feel the connection of his fist right into your nose. You nearly fly backwards, holding what you believe is your now broken nose, feeling the heavy pouring of something drip down your lips. 

You spit in disgust, hissing as you now hold the offensive, charging as he only gets up in time before you're swinging down on him. One, two, three, he tries to block, but you're angrier, blood boiling as you kick him in the stomach back. It's not foul play you assume, for no one calls out that you just cheated. The crowd around you is larger, consuming you as you feel as if you're being engulfed in an oven from the pure heat despite being outside.

It rages like a storm, your head hurts, your nose too, but you continue to fight in a rage, swinging harder and quicker until the soldier can't keep in time with you. You knock him onto his back, as you point the sword down on him this time. You witness he only has bruises on him, despite the now bloody knuckles he has thanks to his lovely punch.

"Do you yield?" You growl above him, shoving the wooden tip of the sword into his throat. He is quick to nod in shame, and the crowd around you continue their murmurings, their eyes cast on something above.

You follow their gazes, believing it was some divine being of Miquella that had flown down upon them, only to see a mass of red, two-winged serpents and one cold golden eye.

Ah, there you are. You stare at one another as you chuck the sword into the mud. You believe that to him, you must look like some madwoman, dressed in men's garbs, wielding a wooden sword with blood dripping down your face. In fact, rather than wiping the blood from your face, you keep it there. Look at how dirty I fight now, My Lord. You think mockingly.

You don't break eye contact with him, grinning wildly with red in your teeth as Messmer simply holds your gaze a second longer, before turning and walking away. But you know all too well that through that scowl, there is something that he is thinking other than wishing to burn you alive. 

Vindication builds within you, as you saunter off back to the infirmary.

-

A/N: Ah, I love feral Tarnished, looking like some rabid dog that needs to be put down, whilst Messmer must be thinking what on earth has he brought into his Keep. More fighting! And even though I didn't think this chapter would have any, I surprised myself by including some. I'm also really building into the 'they hate each other's guts and want nothing to do with one another' but I promise I shall have them interacting with one another once again.

[margaretoakgrove]

KARL HEISENBERG CONCEPT ART

● Karl Heisenberg

↳ Heisenberg's main concept is based on Frankenstein. We wanted to create a cool gray-haired character who was a little rough around the edges. He smokes his favorite Cuban cigars.

↳ An early draft of Heisenberg's family. The biggest difference was that Heisenberg was going to be a twin and his mother was a subject for brain experiment.

● Mutated Heisenberg

↳ We went for a look that was the opposite of his human form, a giant mechanical monster. The design based on the idea that he uses scrap left scattered around the factory. He owns weapons from tanks and planes, and has mountains of scrap for his mass-produced experiments.

● Mutated Heisenberg in Detail

↳ The original design was based on the splendid royale moth caterpillar. We wanted him to look like he moved on treads and be faster than any other boss monster.

↳ Heisenberg's father was going to be the leader of the village, and the boss fight with the mechanical mutation was originally going to be with him.

↳ Concept art of a day in the life of Heisenberg. Night after night his modified henchmen dig up corpses from the graveyard to be used in his metal army.

● Soldat Eins

↳ We called these enemies "Drillman" for a long time during development because one arm was replaced with a drill. The idea for these enemies is they have a reactor inside their chests with the parasite inside that acts like an internal combustion engine. The goggles are units that Heisenberg uses to control them.

↳ Designs for various Soldat reactors, but the final design was a grotesque mechanical heart.

● Soldat Panzer

↳ We consciously created the enemies in the factory to be different so they didin't just terrify players but also created a strong sense of anticipation. The design was based on Western medieval armor and helmets.

● Soldat Jet

↳ We were really attached to the name "Jet Drill" during development. They use jets on their backs and their heads look like fighter planes. The design is similar to the horseshoe crab. We designed the front and back with different amounts of detail so the back would be particularly shocking.

● Sturm

↳ The propeller on his head is made from three chainsaw blades. He chopped his own arms off when they got in the way of the spinning blades. There was one plan to have the Sturm be Heisenberg's real father. And during development he was called "Propeller Man."

● Bridge Ruins

↳ Concept art for the bridge to Heisenberg's factory. It was initially going to be just to the side of the path leading to the Altar ruins.

● Sturm Attacks

↳ Sturm chasing Ethan down a narrow corridor, destroying everything in his way.

● Giant Cavern

↳ The concept art for Heisenberg kicking Ethan down into the hole and the giant cavern under the factory.

● Casting Machine

↳ A casting machine which uses molds to create objects made out of cast iron. This concept for a puzzle was around since early development as a way to create a key.

● Foundry

↳ This room was once only used for casting iron but Heisenberg ended up utilizing it for his experiments. This room links to the hidden engine room.

● Engine Room

↳ An engine room powered by giant pistons.

↳ Concept art for Heisenberg's factory where Ethan is chased by the Soldat series. If the reactors in their chests are destroyed then the parasite inside will attempt to escape.

● Grinder Shaft Fight

↳ A fight inside the grinder shaft. These were early designs for the Soldat Jet. We originally imagined a space where they could freely fly about.

● Heisenberg's Key

↳ We went with a design that had a powerful looking horse just like the one on Heisenberg's crest.

● Start of the Battle With Heisenberg

↳ Concept art for the flow of events leading up to the battle with Heisenberg. We pictured Ethan falling into the pit around dusk and returning from it to a dark stormy night sky. The general layout of events didin't change much from early development.

● Mutated Heisenberg-Fight 1

↳ Concept art for the boss fight with Heisenberg. Even early on in development this battle was going to commence with a self-propelled artillery. The only difference is that in the final version, Heisenberg is not defeated using falling transmission towers.

● Mutated Heisenberg-Fight 2

↳ We figured that Heisenberg's yard would be full of scrap and vehicles, which he uses during the fight.

↳ Boss fight with mutated Heisenberg where he turns into his final form.

[bekkandaa]

Tom Riddle: Narcissism, Heritage, and Mental Breakdown

This analysis will delve into Tom Riddle's narcissism, heritage, and my own hypothesis that a mental breakdown led to the ultimate murder of his family.

Before I begin, it's important to define some key psychological terms for anyone unfamiliar with the subject. I'll try to simplify things down, but if anything doesn't make sense don't worry too much.

Malignant Narcissism: This term describes individuals who exhibit all three traits from "The Dark Triad"— Machiavellianism, Psychopathy and Narcissism.

Machiavellianism : Commonly characterised by manipulation and exploitation of others, unemotional callousness, self-interest, and an overall lack of morality.

Psychopathy : Commonly characterised by continuous antisocial behaviour, selfishness, unemotional callousness, and an overall lack of remorse.

Narcissism : Marked by grandiosity, pride, egotism, and an overall lack of empathy.

In Psychoanalytic theory, primary narcissism is a normal part of child development, involving self-interest and object-love. Children often harbour notions of greatness and believe they are immune to any consequences. As they mature, they become disillusioned from these grand notions to integrate into mature society. pathological narcissism actually develops when this process is disrupted, resulting in defective narcissistic structures.

( Interestingly, a number of psychiatrists have established a direct link between malignant narcissism and evil— a perspective likely considered in the creation of Tom Riddle's character. However, it is important to note that while there is a connection, it does not necessarily define someone as evil.)

Tom Riddle's behaviour aligns perfectly with Heinz Kohut's theory of object-love. According to Kohut, a child requires a mother to affirm their grandiosity or, lacking this, seeks an adult to create an "idealised parent image." Tom, lacking a mother figure and grandiose figure to emulate, proceeded to construct his own powerful parental figure.

This is evident when we see Riddle question Dumbledore about his father's wizardry, as Tom assumes his mother could not have been a witch as if she was she wouldn't have died. This belief is shattered during his teenage years, which inevitably triggers his (narcissistic) rage of his idea being disillusioned. Tom Riddle has always been a character with an ongoing quest for identity and self-validation, which is seen in his prolonged search for the Chamber of Secrets to confirm his status as Heir of Slytherin.

Tom Riddle's obsession with power and control is a fundamental aspect of his character we can't ignore. The pursuit of control is a primary human motivation, gaining control is actually proved to enhance one's sense of well-being. For someone like Tom, when this control is threatened, they would resort to coping mechanisms to preserve their sense of self. For a narcissist like Tom, a threat to his control equates to a threat to his very self.

Now, to my entire point. The revelation of his true heritage and the truth about his parents triggered a mental breakdown, causing an identity crisis. Freud posits that human behaviour is influenced more by the unconscious mind than the conscious. The unconscious mind protects itself by concealing negative memories, which can affect behaviour and attitudes. In Tom’s case, his father's abandonment left a mark, which he could not reconcile. His only solution was to eradicate this source of shame and hatred.

Tom Riddle’s patricide and subsequent name change to Voldemort signify his profound self-loathing and rejection of his humanity. This action eradicates the evidence of his shameful heritage. According to Krech, hatred often correlates with anger, manifesting as a desire to destroy the source of hatred. Riddle’s murder of his father and paternal family was an attempt to reclaim control and restore his ego. TLDR :  Tom Riddle has a fragile sense of control and ego, loses the sense of control once he learns of his true heritage. Causing a mental breakdown and killing his family. In conclusion, he is miserable and hates everyone. ( even himself to a point.)

[bitethedevil]

The Virtue of Chastity (Chapter 2/2)

Tags: Corruption, Dark!Raphael, Dub-Con, Nun gets corrupted by devil-trope

TW: Dubious Consent, Depictions of Illness, Death, NSFW Content, Mention of Thoughts of Suicide

AO3 LINK

(Chapter 1)

Summary:

A cleric of Ilmater is mourning the loss of someone dear to her. Lucian, an earlier patient of hers who she loved dearly, had died from his illness, but not before revealing that he had sold his soul to a devil. Destroyed by the knowledge she cannot save him from his suffering in the afterlife, she runs into a strange man by the name Raphael. He says he can fix it all and bring her the soul of her dear Lucian.

He is also oddly fascinated by the fact that she has sworn a Vow of Chastity, and he seems to know an awful lot about her and her relationship with Lucian.

AN: He's such a fucking asshole.

She went back about a week later. Of course she did. Even if there were many unanswered questions, even if he was bluffing with his offer, she still needed to try. She could grant Lucian peace if he really did uphold his word. She had to try. Besides, Father Marcus was over the moon with how much gold Raphael had donated to the temple. She had no choice but to keep playing along.

When she arrived at the mansion, she was led to his chambers once again. This time he was laying in his bed when she entered. He was wearing a robe, and he was under the covers of the bed. He smiled when she entered.

“Chastity,” he greeted. “What a pleasant surprise to see you return so soon.”

There was something about his tone that suggested that he knew she would be back today, but she pushed it aside. She still felt somewhat embarrassed about crying her eyes out on his lap the last time, but she tried to remain professional. She put her bag of supplies on a chair and rummaged through it.

“I have more potions to bring you,” she said.

“Lovely,” he purred, watching her. “The last ones you made worked a charm.”

She pulled out the potions and placed them neatly on the desk. She took one of them and went to his bedside to hand it to him. He took it and placed it on his bedside table.

“I will save it for later,” he said with a smile. “I just took one this morning.”

She nodded and looked him over.

“How is the pain?” she asked.

“My legs are still aching,” he said. “Though because of you, it is now bearable. You have my sincerest thanks. How have you been?”

“Good,” she answered quickly and politely before changing the subject to the problem at hand. “Can I take a look?”

He smiled and gestured to his legs. She pulled the cover aside to reveal his bare leg under it. She adjusted his robe slightly. She was not sure he was wearing anything underneath it, and she was not exactly eager to find out. She went through the same procedure as last time, starting with feeling for anything odd in his lower calves and going from there.

“Do be careful with your back,” he said, looking at how she was hunched over the bed. “You can sit on the bed. I won’t bite.”

She glanced up at him before sitting down on the side of the bed. Just like last time she did not feel anything unusual. He was not swollen anywhere or had any knots. She moved up to his knees. She could see that he was watching her from the corner of her eye.

“I trust that my humble donations pleased Father Marcus?” Raphael said.

“Oh absolutely,” she said and smiled. “You have been a great help. We are very thankful, Raphael.”

He smiled, though it was not exactly a friendly smile.

“The feeling is mutual,” he purred. “You are very helpful and exceedingly kind to me. Are you this kind to everyone, I wonder?”

She moved her hands up to his thighs, careful with her touch. He groaned as she did.

“I try to serve the people who come to our temple the best I can,” she answered with a smile.

She moved to the leg furthest away from her.

“Your posture is atrocious, dear,” he said and patted the mattress. “Don’t be shy.”

She hesitated but again, she did not want to displease him. She crawled up on the bed and straddled his leg. She was careful not to actually sit on it, as she moved from his calf and up. When she got to his thigh, he suddenly pressed his leg up against her, making her lose her balance in an attempt to not cause him pain. She almost fell forward face first down onto his chest. He held her there as he groaned.

“A cramp,” he explained and groaned. “Apologies. It will pass in a moment.”

His leg was pressed up between hers and she immediately got flustered at the feeling. Though his face was contorted in pain, she could see a sense of satisfaction in those brown eyes of his. She had a slight suspicion, but now it was almost confirmed: he was faking it. She tried to move off him, but his grip around her only tightened.

“Oh dear, am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked and looked down to where his thigh was grinding up against her. “Here.”

He wrapped his hand around her thigh and moved it over the other leg as he pulled her to straddle his lap instead. She immediately knew what was going on and tried to pull herself away again.

“You are not sick,” she said through gritted teeth, trying to yank herself away from his iron grip. “Let me go!”

“Brava! It took you much longer to come to that conclusion than I expected,” he said with a smile and ground his hips up against her. “You are correct, of course. I am not sick. However, your friend is still very much dead and in my possession, so I would suggest that you keep up your end of the agreement if you want his soul.”

Her breath involuntarily hitched when he pressed himself up against her. She put all her strength in to get off him.

“I took a vow,” she hissed at him. “I won’t break that for you.”

“Oh, my sweet, perish the thought!” he said with a smile. “Call this a…trial of sorts. To test your devotion. You pious types seem to love those. I would never take you against your will, I am not a monster…Though you will be begging me to by the end of this. I don’t care if you win or lose, I will give you his soul regardless. You can agree or I can simply let you walk back to that temple of yours, while that boy you loved suffers in the Hells. What will it be?”

She stopped struggling. This was not fair. Raphael smiled.

“Good girl,” he said and flipped her over so that he was on top of her. “I will give you a gentle start. Have you ever been kissed before?”

She shook her head and swallowed hard.

“I thought so,” he purred and leaned down to press his lips against her.

Her body was already betraying her. She felt hot all over and her stomach was in knots at the gesture. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, tasting and exploring every corner of it. He hummed in satisfaction and bit her lip. He kissed his way over her cheek to her ear.

“Would you be a dear and untie my robe?” he whispered in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe and kissing his way down her neck.

Her hands were shaking but she did as he told her. His trail of kisses ended just above her chest. His hand moved to untie her robes, and she opened her mouth to protest. He silenced her with a finger to her lips.

“We are not breaking any of your little rules,” he said and kept working at opening her robe. “I simply want to have a look.”

He opened her robe and pushed the fabric to either side, so she laid exposed to him. Her chest laid bare, and she was only wearing panties underneath. He kissed his way down between her breasts and stopped at her lower belly before leaning over her again, so they were face to face. He pressed his hips against her.

“Beautiful,” he purred.

He nibbled at her neck as he slowly began grinding his cock against her clothed sex. Her whole body was tense, which seemed to amuse him. He smirked against her skin and pressed it harder against her.

“This must all be very foreign to you,” he said and took her hand. “It won’t hurt you, my sweet. Not unless you want it to.”

He led her hand to his cock. It was rock hard. He bent her fingers to grasp around it. She began praying in her mind to distance herself from this whole situation. Raphael’s other hand came up to grab her cheeks and force her to look at him.

“Do you feel how much I want you?” he asked with a groan as he used her hand to stroke himself with.

He let go of her hand and moved it to feel her through her panties. She gasped and grabbed his hand to stop. He did not move an inch.

“It hardly counts when a piece of fabric separates us, no?” he said and continued his teasing touch. “You are soaked, my dear. You want me too.”

She shook her head which only made him laugh. He kept running his fingers over her. It was the most delicious feeling she had ever felt. After a moment he shifted his position and positioned his cock up against her folds. He rubbed it up and down her slit over the soaked fabric of her panties, teasing her with the head of his cock. He teased her even more when he pressed it slightly against her entrance, making her shiver and moan.

“Do you want more?” he asked and pressed his cock hard against her clothed entrance, the head of it peeking inside.

She shook her head again, though the way she was moaning did not make it seem convincing.

“Come now,” he cooed. “No one will have to know. It will be our little secret, Chastity.”

The way he purred her name did things to her. The way he said it as if it was a joke and he knew exactly how much she wanted to break her vows in that moment. He slid the panties off her and rested his cock between her folds. The skin-to-skin contact almost made her see stars.

“I know you want to,” he purred and ground himself against her slowly, making her moan. Her mind went blank, and she found herself nodding. “Good girl.”

He sank into her slowly with a deep groan. It hurt at first, but soon it turned into absolute bliss. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew what she was doing was wrong and that she would regret it for the rest of her life after, but somehow that only made it feel even better in the moment.

“Not…” she managed to plead in between moans. “Not inside, please…”

If she became pregnant, her life would be over. She would be excommunicated from the temple if that happened. Raphael smiled down at her as he fucked her with languid thrusts.

“Of course…” he purred in an almost mocking tone. “Wouldn’t want any unwanted surprises, would we?”

He bottomed out inside her and leaned down to kiss her. It was a greedy kiss, and his tongue slipped into her mouth once again to explore while he lazily thrusted into her. It felt like the Heavens. She was in pure bliss. Her eyes fluttered shut. He bit her bottom lip and trailed down to her throat.

“Speaking of surprises,” he purred against her skin. “I believe it is time that you and I were properly introduced, wouldn’t you say?”

His words confused her, but in her ecstasy, she barely cared about what he was saying. It wasn’t until she felt a flash of heat against her skin, followed by feeling all too full that her eyes shot open. Her blood ran cold when she saw the smirking cambion that was looking down at her. She grasped at the sheets and mattress, trying to pull herself away from him immediately.

He flipped her over with ease and pushed her face down into the mattress, capturing her arms and holding them behind her back as his now uncomfortably large length pushed into her again from behind. He groaned as he bottomed out. It was painful.

“Do you want to know what your dear Lucian wanted in exchange for his soul?” Raphael asked while he thrusted lazily into her. “He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Isn’t that sweet?”

He gave a particularly hard thrust, that almost pushed the air out of her. She wanted to scream and cry but she simply felt numb instead.

“Of course, that was difficult for me to achieve with such a stubborn and busy little thing like you,” Raphael said. “Though I do believe making his condition deadly did the trick, wouldn’t you say? And now, with your helpful collaboration, he will spend his afterlife with you as well. A love story for the ages…”

She felt his claws on her scalp before he yanked her head back and fucked her faster. He leaned over her and licked a stripe up her back before biting down into her shoulder. She whined in pain.

“Oh, if only he could see you now, Chastity,” he purred into her ear. “If only he knew that all it took for you to leave your principles, was a couple of honeyed words and a few promises. He might have still been here, if he did.”

He flipped her over again so she was laying on her back, so he could bask in the view of her tearful expression. He smiled down at her. He moved his hand to rub her clit as he kept thrusting into her. Her body was betraying her again and she felt the pain turning into pleasure, despite herself. She came soon after.

Raphael pulled out like he promised and came on her stomach. His seed was inhumanly hot when it hit her skin. In one last show of humiliation, he dipped two of his clawed fingers in the mess he had made on her and lifted them to her lips and pressed them inside.

He didn’t even have to say anything. He knew that she would not disobey him now that she had gotten so far, so she licked them clean. Sulphur, she realized at the taste. Sulphur had been that unidentifiable smell that first day she met him. She should have known much earlier.

He smiled widely at her before his fingers left her mouth. He moved off her and tied his robe again in the most casual manner, as if nothing had just happened between them. He sat on the side of the bed and then looked at her with those orange eyes of his.

“You have done so well, my sweet,” he said.

The soul coin appeared in the palm of his hand in a flash of fire after he snapped his fingers. He held it out to her, but when she reached out to take it, he snatched it away from her.

“How forgetful of me,” he said, and his smile widened. “There is, of course, one last thing. A mere trifle, really.”

He snapped his fingers and a contract, and a quill appeared, floating in the air. Her blood ran cold, and she looked from the contract to him.

“This was not what we agreed on,” she said in a shaky tone. “You didn’t say—”

“I said,” he interrupted with a raised finger. “That I would give you his soul in exchange for your obedience to me. I am now asking you to sign. It will be my final request from you. You did not honestly believe that all I wanted was to sleep with you?”

He burst into a mocking laughter as he looked at her expression.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he said with a cruel smile. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

He waved his hand, and the contract moved closer to her. She held back tears as she read it. She would give her soul for Lucian’s. Her eternal suffering for his peace. She had once vowed to remove suffering when she saw it. If she didn’t sign if would all have been for nothing, and she had already broken enough vows for a lifetime. She sobbed softly when she reached for the quill and signed.

The contract burst into flames and disappeared. Raphael reached out to gently dry the tears that were steadily falling down her cheeks, with an almost pitying expression. He placed the soul coin in her hands, and she looked down at it. She felt Lucian’s presence through it, and it was the only thing that soothed her in that moment.

“Cheer up, dear,” Raphael purred with a smile. “You might not go to Ilmater when you one day leave this plane, but you have served him better than any of his worshippers. Though you have broken one little vow, you have made the ultimate sacrifice to alleviate suffering. This way you will have served your god well and you will be free of his cruel demands once your time is up.”

She wiped her tears in her sleeve.

“Once I have your soul, you will never have to worry about foolish ideas such as these restrictions ever again,” he said in a gentle voice that belied his words. “You will be free to give into your desires…As long as they serve me, of course. If you are really good, I might even let Lucian join or watch when I’ll indulge in you, once you are mine.”

Her blood ran cold once again. She did not understand…

Raphael smiled.

“You didn’t think I would separate you two in death, did you?” he said. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of true love.”

She couldn’t breathe all of a sudden. No. That couldn’t be.

“No, I—” she said frantically. “The contract—”

“Oh, did I not mention?” he asked with a smile. “You own Lucian’s soul, and I own yours. When it comes to souls, the assets of the deceased go to the next in the hierarchy, which for you, is me. Infernal laws, you see. Unfortunately, as you are of infernal heritage, those laws apply to you too.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she screamed until it physically hurt her, and then she kept screaming. Never had she been so angry at herself. Never had she felt such hopelessness. Never had she wanted to end it all so badly. But there was nowhere to go or to escape to. All roads now led to Raphael. She was suffering and her god could no longer help her.

He was basking in her misery, eating it up as if it was the most delicious meal he had ever had. When she finally fell quiet, she felt like an empty shell of herself. She looked hopelessly down at the soul coin in her hands as she whimpered quietly.

Raphael snapped his fingers and returned to his human form. He got up from the bed and towered over her. She kept staring emptily at the coin. He chuckled lowly and adjusted her open robe, as if to mockingly protect her modesty.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Chastity.”

He disappeared in a flash of smoke and embers.

[reagi-df]

Armageddon Brothers

The Four Housemen of the apocalypse

Since the first part of the series is out I’d thought I’d show the concepts of the turtles and their “Horses” (please mind the tags though)

I had an idea about a what if and I’ve roped in others to help with this madness 😈

Cough cough @devotedtosadpoetry @ninjaneonleon @kinky-asexual

What if in another universe the Kraang where freed early, the turtles are tots but had unlocked their ninpō at a young age. The Kraang, having interacted with Oraki Saki have had an interest in the Hamato's and the Foot Clan. It was the Hamato's that sealed them after all. So the Hamato's where on the Kraang's list, having killed Splinter they were about to kill the turtles, but why waste potential weapons? This au is about the boys being "raised" by the kraang and how they uses them to take over other words and wage wars. Raph - War - 21 - Oldest Mikey - Famine - 18 - Youngest - “horse” Feast Donnie - Pestilence - 19 - Second oldest - “horse” Plague Leo - Death - 19 - Second youngest - “horse” Reaper Raph - Raph is pretty much savage Raph, with a lot more Kraang on him than he had in the movie. He and Leo have a bond where Leo is the only one who can calm him down. Raph is very susceptible to orders and when he's paired up with Mikey on the battle field they're unstoppable. Being War Raph is a lot more stronger than he's in canon, the more destruction he causes feeds him, and with Mikey acting as his booster of sorts they're very formidable on the field. Mikey - Mikey is very unhinged and sadistic, he enjoys tormenting people and killing for the fun of it, always change his hunger. With being Famine he feeds on peoples emotions and feelings. His hyperacticness boots Raph's rage and destructiveness. Mikey is always smiling, always fining things fun, his bubbly nature is warped into something twisted. His favourite person to torment is Leo, there's a rivalry (mostly one sides on Mike's part) that's been turned into something dark and he enjoys the misery he causes his oldest brother. Donnie - Don, like Mike. is very unhinged and sadistic, doing things in the name of science, his fav rate past time is experiments on living people, and also like Mikey, Leo is his prime target. Donnie has a connection to Leo that the others dont. He and Leo accidentally mind melded during a “traumatic event” , casing them to be permanently linked slightly. Donnie is envious and hates the power Leo has, and he doesn't know why the Kraang are so hell bent on keeping his brother test subject around. Being pestilence. Donnie handles a lot of chemicals, he createsBio weapons (along with others) Leo - unlike his brother, Leo Is more placid and won't defend himself against his brothers or the kraang. Being prone to memory los, Leo doesn't remember a lot and he's always craving to be around his teammates. Since he is death he never stays dead when he's "accidentally" killed by his brothers. The Prison Dimension is his domain, his body has abased the dark matter that's in there every time hes been thrown in, (usually dead). Leo feeds of the souls he takes and is always the last one in the field.

[crystalfic]

Yesterday's Legacy, Chapter 1

You asked, I provide! The next part of We're Off to Punch the Wizard, otherwise known as Yesterday's Legacy.

AO3 link

Prologue is here

(I have endeavoured to be as accurate and respectful as possible to the Islamic faith, but if I've made any horrible errors, please let me know.)

Valla's hand slipped from Emma's grip as her feet hit the ground. Sunglasses. She should have brought sunglasses. It might be cloudy back home, but she had walked through a solid glass window and now it was bright and idyllic and beautiful and had she mentioned bright yet? Ow. Valla squinted in automatic protest against the sunlight assaulting her eyeballs.

Beside her, Emma had grabbed Andy's chin and was looking closely into his eyes. A moment later, Emma released her husband and stepped back with a sigh of relief. "All clear. No glow," she said, and both Andy and Mukhtar visibly relaxed.

"No glow?" Valla echoed.

Mukhtar glanced at Valla, his dark eyes softening. "No glow means that the side-effects of his use of magic have stopped. For now, at least."

"Magic. Okay. I'm in a world where magic works, how else would I have got here in the first place?" Valla wanted to pace, wanted to let her jitters out through her feet, but she held herself still.

"You are not mad," Mukhtar said firmly, understanding what she had not said. "Or drugged. Or dreaming. In this world, magic is real. I am not one of those who could ever use it, but these two can."

While Valla was processing this, Mukhtar stepped over to Emma and Andy to exchange a few murmured words. With little more than a few nods, the three of them separated – Mukhtar and Emma to the trees at the side of the clearing, Andy to sit on a convenient rock. Something small, something that glittered in the bright daylight, passed from Mukhtar to Emma, and she put it in her pocket without a word before they disappeared into the forest.

Had that tree politely lifted its branches out of Emma's way? No. No, it must have been the wind.

Lost, Valla seated herself on the suspiciously ergonomically-shaped rock next to Andy and drank in the landscape. Before them, a circle of stones on mostly-bare earth, and lush ground cover beyond that. Circling them, trees of more kinds than Valla could name pushed against each other in their competition for good soil and light and air. Above, a cloudless blue sky of a shade she'd rarely seen except at the height of summer.

"You okay?" Valla ventured.

"I will be," Andy said, leaning back on his hands as his eyes fixed on that astonishing sky. "It's been a few decades since I've used – well, any magic at all, to be honest. Took more out of me than I expected."

"The joys of closing in on your forties," Valla said dryly before changing the subject. "Um, Mukhtar said that you and Emma had magic?"

"We do, but it only works here. I'm a sorcerer, which means I channel magic directly through my body and invoke it by will. That kind of use has side effects, which is why Emma was worried about the glowing eyes. Emma, she's a plant-witch, although a better translation is probably plant-sibling. Plants speak to her, and they usually do what she wants them to. Except goatweed. Very stubborn stuff, goatweed."

"Should I have brought weedkiller?" Valla asked, biting her lip thoughtfully.

Andy half-twisted towards her and eyed the heavy-duty hiking backpack slung over her shoulders. "I think you're carrying enough already. Wait, is that a frying pan?"

"If it's good enough for Sam Gamgee, it's good enough for me," Valla said firmly, even as the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth ruined the attempt at seriousness. "Lord of the Rings is one of Jamie's favourite books."

"Hope you're not expecting second breakfast," Andy teased back.

Valla laughed, which released Andy's own snicker, and the two of them let their laughter fill the air for a moment. It wasn't that funny, but it was a release from tension that they both needed.

"I was born here," Andy said abruptly, cutting off Valla's lingering giggles. "By the time I opened the portal to Emma's world, I was eighteen, and the magic I used was destroying my body. I expected her and Mukhtar to go. I didn't expect them to refuse to leave me." There was an odd, wondering smile on his face. "They hauled me through anyway. It was stolen magic, magic that I barely knew how to use, and I messed up the temporal anchors. I set it to the world that they remembered, and forgot to account for their seven years here. I sent us back to nearly the moment they'd left. In payment, the magic took those seven years from us. I was eleven again. More or less healed, but I'm not sure that having to go through puberty again was worth it."

That. That was. Valla was aware her mouth was hanging open, and she snapped it shut as quickly as she could. "I need a few minutes to process that," she said faintly.

Andy nodded, and turned back to his contemplation of the sky.

"More or less healed?" Valla said after a while.

"Eh, I still had some of the scars I earned as a teenager. That said, it was easier growing up the second time around. Fewer people were trying to kill me. Much less stressful."

Valla shook her head and packed away that casual admission for later. "You said you were born here. Does – does this realm have a name?"

Andy shrugged. "Maybe? If it does, I never learned it. Emma calls it Deathworld."

The peaceful glade took on sinister overtones in Valla's mind. "So all this pretty is just the sweet topping over poison?"

"Mostly. This is a campsite, one that's been used recently by the look of the ashes, so it's reasonably safe. Otherwise? Yeah. It took a long time for us to figure that out as kids." His eyes closed, fingertips digging into the stone of his seat. "Too long."

Valla was certain of two things. One, that at least one of the kids that he'd been travelling with had died, and two, that she did not want to know about it. (They'd been children, he'd been eleven and Emma would have been even younger, good grief was this Wizard mad?)

The sound of good, solid, Earth-made hiking boots on packed earth interrupted them, and Valla turned gratefully to see Emma padding back out of the treeline.

"I've talked to Mukhtar," Emma said without preamble once she was close enough to speak normally. "He thinks we're somewhere in Galgarn's Forest. I agree; the plants say someone very large is wandering around here, and this place feels familiar." She spread her hands. "Wish I could remember it better, but we travelled through a lot of places back then."

"Is he still back there?" Andy asked.

"Yeah, he took a few minutes to pray. He brought his qiblah talisman, it lit up right on time."

At Valla's bewildered look, Emma pulled the shiny thing she'd seen earlier out of her pocket. It was shaped like a bookmark with a rounded point on one end, made of metal engraved with what looked to Valla's untrained eye like Arabic text.

"It's still functioning?" Andy asked in surprise. "I was worried it might have drained out while we were on Earth."

"You do good work, love," Emma said fondly. To Valla, she explained, "It glows and hums when it's time for his prayers – we didn't have watches, back then, and you can't always see the sun. It also points the way to Mecca for him. He's not sure if it counts as an amulet and he can't really ask an imam about it, so one of us hangs onto it for him."  

"And it is very useful," Mukhtar said from behind them. Valla squeaked, achieving a levitation of at least two inches without benefit of magic.

Andy snorted. "Still sneaking up on people?"

Mukhtar grinned unrepentantly. "You too could be quiet, if you practiced."

Emma rolled her eyes, also smiling. Valla might not be in on this particular in-joke, but she could tell it was there.

"Any sign of the children?" Andy asked, bringing them all back around to their first and most important task.

"None. However, I would have been surprised to find anything – we followed our children quickly, but there is no guarantee that the Portal dropped us in the same place as them."

"It's unlikely we were, Andy admitted. "It was taking everything I had just to hold it open. Trying to maintain the exact destination was a losing fight."

Mukhtar clapped a hand on Andy's shoulder. "I'm grateful that you did hold it open. We will find our children, Andy. I have faith that Allaah is with us."

"Good," Emma said, with a nod of thanks to Mukhtar. "So, if we're in Galgarn's Forest, let's go straight to the source."

"Talk to Galgarn?" Andy shivered. "Are you sure?" "We're not kids anymore," Emma said with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I'd like to see him try that kind of intimidation now."

[canolaaoil]

To all my best friends, only twelve leagues and one text message away

1. Dearly Departed, Brockhampton. // 2. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion. // 3. unsent project. // 4. I am in Eskew. // 5. His dark materials. // 6. Where did you go? Hishaam Siddiqui. // 7. parts in motion, Vera Much. // 8. Your Name Engraved, Herein. 9. Hmu, spacegirl GEMMY.

Description follows

[ID: song lyrics reading, "What's the point of havin' a best friend if you / end up losin' him?" end ID]

[[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of two teenage girls cuddling under blankets on a couch watching something on a computer. end ID]

[ID: a poem reading, "Life changes fast. / Life changes in the instant. / You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. end ID]

[ID: a fuzzy photograph in the style of an early digital camera of three people huddled around a fridge. All of the people have brown hair, glowing golden from the lighting and only one of their faces is turned toward the camera. end ID]

[ID: a text entry on a pink background reading, "To: Harry I / i've written 43 / poems about you. / come back and i / won't have to write anymore. / -asle" end ID]

[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of a couple in a photobooth with only their feet and legs visible behind the curtain. one is sitting on the other's lap. ]

[ID: text reading, "The problem is, my love, is that I can't sustain the fact of your death. / I can convince myself that it's true, force myself to picture your rotting, ruined face dumped in a mass grave somewhere out in the world... / ...and then my phone buzzes and I'm still expecting an unexpected message from you, telling me what corner of the globe you've holed up in, the foods you're eating, the card-players you're outwitting." end ID]

[ID: a photograph of two people in an aquarium, shot from behind. they stand in front of a large window showing a tank of water and seaweed. the two pose as if dancing grandiosely with no one else around. end ID]

[ID: a paragraph reading, "And it was comforting to think she and Will had another thing in common. She wondered if there would ever come an hour in her life when she didn't think of him- didn't speak to him in her head, didn't relive every moment they'd been together, didn't long for his voice and his hands and his love. She had never dreamed of what it would feel like to love someone so much; of all the things that astonished her in her adventures, that was what astonished her the most. She thought the tenderness it left in her heart was like a bruise that would never go away, but she would cherish it forever." end ID]

[ID: a photograph from behind of a group of people walking together down a city street. two of the people have their arms around each other shoulders. another two link arms. the image is slightly blurry. end ID]

[ID: a couplet reading, "One day I woke up and we no longer spoke the / same language. I haven't heard from you since." end ID]

[ID: a photograph of two people, focused on one in the foreground. A young woman looks lovingly towards something out of frame, her face resting on the meat of her hand. In the background a man looks away towards another subject. The lighting is dreamy and yellow. end ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "Show me it all / Tell me what's wrong / You got your hard drive stolen / Your phone's been broken / Play me a song off of mine / Show me it all / Show me a rise / Show me a fall / Pay me no mind / Paint me in gold / I don't mean to pry, but give me a call" end ID]

[ID: a gif from the movie 'Your Name Engraved Herein' of Birdy and A-han riding a motorbike through the streets at night. Both smile widely as they breeze along, Birdy sitting behind A-han with his shirt off over his head, yelling happily. End ID]

[ID: lyrics reading, "They say everything has reason / Life fluctuates like seasons / And maybe someday soon we'll both find our reason / But bitch you're still the bro / Never letting go / Of the friendship bracelets we made when we were twelve // I'll be waiting by my phone / For you to hit me up / For you to hit me up / Hit me hit me up" end ID]

[ID: a photograph of a plaque on an outside wall reading, "LIFE HAPPENS BUT I STILL CARE FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL." end ID]

[the-magiarcheologist]

Magical Theory: Categories of spells

Look, for all of his qualities, Prof. Fig did not teach us much about Magical Theory. So I guess I’ll just make my own lessons! Interested students, come in, come in! You can make some room on this desk over there! Yes, put all those books on the ground, it’s alright. Sit down and let’s discuss! (And I hope you have some time to spare because this will be long!)

Lesson 1: Categories of spells

There has already been a lot of discussions within the fandom about the basics of what Magic is, especially about how it requires intent and/or emotions in addition to an incantation and wand movement to work. I myself have already participated in this discussion (although my point of view on this has evolved a little bit since then) and I can direct you to many other sources on the question (yes, each of these words is a different link you can go look up for further reading!). So I won’t be talking about this today and instead we will focus on the different type of spells that exist and see if we can neatly group them into different categories. In other words, let's see if we can define a taxonomy for spells.

So let’s start at the beginning by defining what a spell is. The Harry Potter Wiki, citing as source the game «Wonderbook, book of spells», tells me that a spell is:

"a controlled manifestation of magic that affected the world in a supernatural fashion."

And further:

"Generally cast by a witch or a wizard, spells were often produced with certain wand movements and a verbal incantation, or for more experienced witches and wizards, silently and wandlessly."

So I would say that a spell is any magic cast from a wand with a particular intention and a specific intended effect.

Within the HP books we hear of different kinds of spells: Charms, Hexes, Jinxes and Curses. So what differentiates them? JKR herself admits that the boundaries are flexible and that every wizard or witch classifies different spells differently.

For some insight on how JKR decided to name the different types of spells within the books, here is what she says:

Spell: The generic term for a piece of magic. Charm: Does not fundamentally alter the properties of the subject of the spell, but adds, or changes, properties. Turning a teacup into a rat would be a spell, whereas making a teacup dance would be a charm. The grey area comes with things like 'Stunning Spells', which on balance I think are Charms, but which I call spells for alliterative effect. Hexes: Has a connotation of dark magic, as do jinxes, but of a minor sort. I see 'hex' as slightly worse. I usually use 'jinx' for spells whose effects are irritating but amusing. Curses: Reserved for the worst kinds of dark magic.

The lack of consistency in naming different kinds of spells throughout the books is frustrating for those of us trying to make sense of it and figure out how magic works, but we have to admit that this type of vague and variable naming is actually very realistic. Throughout the books, we never meet any wizard scientist or wizard philosopher (apart form Dumbledore I suppose) that talks about Magic in a scientific/philosophical way, with strict definitions. What we encounter is wizarding vernacular language which tends to be inaccurate.

In fact, we muggles are equally as inaccurate when naming things. Take for example what we call ‘vegetables’. Vegetables, scientifically speaking, don’t exist. There is no category of things, biologically, that are vegetables. What we call vegetables are actually an ensemble of fruits, roots, stems and leaves from different plants. There is no reason why we should name an apple a fruit and an eggplant a vegetable, when they are, in fact, both fruits. What we do call fruits tend to actually be fruits, so there is that. But then there is the whole mess of berries! A strawberry isn’t actually a berry (and it might not even be a fruit!) although an eggplant is. All that to say, if aliens landed on earth and tried to establish a taxonomy of edible plant parts based on our vernacular language, they would probably be confused as hell and might even exclaim: «This makes no sense! There is no structure! No rules! Horrible world-building!» when, in fact, there is a structure and biologists know this structure (more or less) it’s just that the average person does not care about this structure and categorises things by different standards such as how they are used (vegetables are usually cooked and eaten in savoury meals while fruits are eaten raw for dessert).

Anyway, the lesson we should take from that is that, when trying to understand and classify different types of magic, we should not rely overmuch on the names given to such magic by characters from the books. This also goes for what is called Dark Magic (as opposed to all other types of magic). Again, there might be an actual scientific or philosophical definition of Dark Magic but I don’t think the average wizard cares about that. I think that, in the Wizaring World (as in our muggle world), societal/political views dictate what is considered Dark Magic more so than an actual definition with clear rules and criteria. Any magic deemed unacceptable socially is called Dark Magic. It could explain why the Imperius Curse is called Dark Magic, since it has been outlawed so is clearly not socially acceptable, while the Memory Charm (Obliviate) is never called Dark Magic (even though it is equally as invasive and harmful to the person it is cast on) since memory modification is legal and is frequently used by wizards to protect themselves against muggles by upholding the Statute of Secrecy.

And, by the way, we can notice that this arbitrary societal classification into Dark/Not Dark Magic also affects the naming of the different types of spells since the Imperius spell is called a curse (bad connotation, considered the most harmful) and memory modification is called a Charm (good connotation, the most harmless of all the spell types, is considered to not fundamentally alter the properties of the subject it is cast on) even though the Memory Spell more fundamentally alters the mental properties of the subject it is cast on (the memory is erased pretty much permanently, or at least it is very difficult to retrieve it) than the Imperius Spell which is only temporary, with no fundamental change done to the subject of the spell who returns to normal as soon as the spell ends. So, by all means, according to the general definitions given, it should be called the Imperius Charm and the Memory Curse!

So if we cannot trust the vernacular classification into different types of spells as encountered in the books, maybe we can identify other common characteristics or dimensions of spells to distinguish different types of magic.

My personal working theory is that the duration of a spell’s effect is a major dimension to consider to distinguish different types of magic (and might even be used to distinguish Dark from Non-Dark Magic, but that’s a topic for another lesson). The ‘duration’ of the spell is basically: how long does a spell continue to have an effect after the caster has stopped focusing on it. Thus, the ‘duration’ property also interacts with a property of spells being self-sustaining or not. This might become clearer as I explain.

We have several examples of spells of very short duration, which I will call perfectly ephemeral spells, i.e. spells that stop having an effect as soon as the spell is done being cast. It’s many of the basic spells that we know: Accio, Wingardium Leviosa, Aguamenti, Incendio or others. As soon as the caster stops concentrating and exerting their will, an object hit with Accio or Wingardium Leviosa will drop to the ground. Same with Incendio or Aguamenti, as soon as the caster stops willing fire/water from erupting from their wands, it stops.

When casting perfectly ephemeral spells, the caster is perfectly in control, there is no chance of the spell escaping out of their control (unless it’s cast improperly) because as soon as they stop feeding their intention and will into the spell, it stops. For this reason, we can also call these spells non self-sustaining. They cannot operate without a wizard’s active will and intent.

To complicate things a little bit, within the category of perfectly ephemeral spells, we can add some spells that are short-lasting because their intended effect itself is short-lasting or transient. Expelliarmus, for example, seems to be a one and done thing: the wand is knocked out of your opponents hands and that’s it, the spell is done. You cannot keep the spell going, even if you wanted to, because you cannot keep knocking a wand out of someone’s hand, once it’s out of the hand it’s not possible to knock it out anymore. (Of course, you could have a spell that permanently repels the wand of your opponent from their hand, so that each time they reached for it, it would be knocked back again, but I think that would be a different spell.) Alohomora would also be a spell that has to be transient and short-lasting. Because of this particular property of the spells’ effect, it’s impossible to call such spells self-sustaining or not, since there is nothing to possibly sustain. The intended effect cannot continue to be applied.

On the opposite side of the duration spectrum, we can consider perfectly permanent spells. I suppose it’s actually impossible to say for certain what spells are perfectly permanent because it would require observing them over an infinite amount of time to be able to say with certainty that they never stop or weaken. So, one degree removed from perfectly permanent spells, we can consider very long-lasting spells, spells that have endured for several centuries without getting weaker. Those would include all the Hogwarts wards and protection spells and other enchantments like the ever changing floor plan. Those have endured for over a millennium and still remain very strong. We should note though that it is possible that those spells did weaken over time, we just don’t know since nobody was there in the 10th century when they were cast to know exactly how powerful they were then. Even if they have weakened over time, the fact that they are still powerful spells such a long time after they were cast still qualifies them as ‘very long-lasting spells’ in my opinion, and we can indeed make the approximation that they are permanent.

If we venture a bit beyond the category of ‘spells’ to consider magical objects (likely affected by a spell that gives them magical properties) we have the Deathly Hallows which continue to be powerful magical objects with the same intended effect centuries after their creation. We can add the Relic of the Dead that Sebastian finds in the Feldcroft catacombs that still works after centuries of sitting there unused.

Such very long-lasting spells seem to be self-sustaining because the spells’ effects continues to work long after the original caster stopped focusing on casting the spell (feeding it their intention), and even long after the original caster’s death.

Working back down the ‘spell duration’ spectrum from permanent to ephemeral spells, this is actually an interesting distinction we can make: spells that continue to work after the caster’s death versus those that don’t.

We know that some otherwise long-lasting spells are abruptly stopped when the caster dies. One example is Dumbledore wordlessly casting an immobilisation charm on Harry just before he gets disarmed by Malfoy (and then, Spoiler Alert!, killed by Snape) up on the Astronomy tower at the end of book 6. Since the spell was cast without incantation, we don’t know exactly what spell it was. It looks like it was Petrificus Totalus since Harry suddenly feels himself becoming rigid and immobile and he falls backwards against the wall. This looks very similar to the effects of the Petrificus Totalus curse cast by Hermione on Neville in the first year. We know Petrificus Totalus is one of the long-lasting spells that seem to sustain themselves even after the caster has stopped focusing on it. We have several examples of people staying petrified even after the caster leaves the room to do something else. I suppose a gifted wizard would be able to sustain the spell ‘distantly’ even while doing other things but, most of the time, we see Petrificus Totalus cast by young students (including first year Hermione) and I don’t think students have the mental capacities to distantly sustain a spell like that. So we can assume that the spell is long-lasting because it sustains itself somehow. Anyway, back to Dumbledore! He casts this spell on Harry and the spell continues to work up until Dumbledore dies and Harry is suddenly ‘unpetrified’.

This instance of a spell being terminated by the caster’s death might be why many seem convinced that any curse will stop with the death of it’s caster. But, in reality, we also have many more examples of spells or curses that endure after the original caster dies. In the last book, Crabbe casts the Fiendfyre spell and is killed by said spell, yet the flames continue even after his death. I’ve already mentioned several powerful magical artefacts whose magical effects endure long after whoever created them died. We also have examples of curses placed by old Egyptian wizards on their tombs that are still active centuries later (mentioned by Ron in Prizoner of Azkaban) and, in HL, the curse placed by Marmaduke Dale on the Dale family crest at the end of the 14th century that still affected Samantha’s brother 500 years later.

Of course, it is not always so easy to distinguish was is truly long-lasting or simply a transient effect which introduces long-lasting change. Two interesting examples to mention here are Avada Kedavra and Blood maledictions. Are these spells long-lasting or not? They certainly seem to be long-lasting! Regarding Avada Kedavra: once you’re dead, you stay dead forever, nothing can lift the spell; and regarding Blood maledictions: they endure after the original caster is dead and continue to have effects over several generations.

But, regarding Avada Kedavra, anyone would understand that the spell itself is not actually long-lasting, one can take a life in an instant and that momentary effect remains permanent because that is just how Death works. You don’t forever continue to kill someone, you do it once and they stay dead.

Blood maledictions is a more murky case. It could go either way. You could have a spell that continues to have an effect on someone and their descendants forever. But, on the Harry Potter wiki, it says that this curse actually produces a genetic defect that is then passed down to the descendants, hence why the curse endures. Then, the spell does not need to have a continuous or long-lasting effect. A moment is all it takes to create the genetic mutation and then the magic is done but the change made is permanent and has consequences over several generations. (As an aside: they cite The Cursed Child as a source for blood maledictions being genetic mutations. I have gone through the mentioned scene in the The Cursed Child and nothing about genetics is mentioned so I don’t really know where they get this from but whether blood maledictions in canon are genetic defects or not does not matter, we can still use this as an example to illustrate how this curse would be classified if it was a genetic mutation)

Going back to our ability to distinguish truly long-lasting spells from ephemeral spells with long-lasting change, in the case of Avada Kedavra and Blood maledictions we can say these spells are not actually long-lasting (their effects don’t continue in time) but have brief effects that produce long-lasting change because we know how these spells work. However, for spells with unknown mechanisms of action it is possible one would confuse truly long-lasting continuous effect with a singular, instantaneous effect leading to a permanent change.

To explain more clearly what I am talking about, think about the spell Alohomora. I think everyone would agree it is momentary: it unlocks the lock and then the spell is done. The spell does not continue to unlock the door, once unlocked, the door stays unlocked. This is what I mean by ‘brief effect leading to a permanent change’, the ‘permanent change’ is the fact that once unlocked, the door stays unlocked. (If we want to get into the physics of it all, and if I’m able to remember my physics and chemistry classes from long ago, I think it has to do with thermodynamics, energy transfer and entropy. But I will let more intelligent people get into that if they want and instead rely on everyone’s intuitive understanding of how the physical world works!).

Soooo… we have now deviated a little bit from our original point so let’s do a mid-lesson recap: we are interested in differentiating spells by their duration. We have established that we have ephemeral spells with very short-lasting effects (which may or may not produce long-lasting changes in the objects they are cast on). These spells are not self-sustaining. As soon as the caster stops intentionally casting them, their effect stops. Then, we have permanent (or, at the very least, very long-lasting) spells. Their effects endure for centuries or more, even after the original caster’s death. And in between these two extremes we have a whole range of more or less long-lasting spells, some of which are stopped by the caster’s death, some of which wear off on their own after some time. The more long-lasting spells can be said to be self-sustaining, because something must allow the spell to continue to work even after the caster stops exerting their will to make the spell work. I have not yet offered examples of such ‘middle of the spectrum’ spells but, by now, an attentive pupil should be able to produce examples of their own ;)

Let’s see… we have Levioso and Arresto Momentum that last a short time after the caster stops focusing on them (hence why we can immobilise enemies in battle using these spells, the enemies stay immobilised for a short time while we start casting other spells). Immobilisation spells are actually a good example of a range of spells that have similar effects but vary in their duration. We have already talked about Arresto Momentum, in the books there is also Impedimenta that lasts about a minute but, on the other hand, Petrificus Totalus lasts much longer. I’m not even sure if Petrificus Totalus wears off on it’s own after a while or if it needs a counter-curse to be lifted.

And speaking of counter-curses! Let’s now get into another dimension of spells: whether they can be counter-acted or not. This part of the lesson is heavily inspired by the writings of White Hound on her website. She has done some wonderful and extremely well-researched analyses on the HP books and I encourage anyone to go look it up if interested! Most illustrative examples I will use are also from her.

I’m very sorry for everyone who loves poor Anne Sallow and wants to see her cured but I’m afraid that, within the wizarding world, there are actually a lot of incurable conditions! A few examples include:

Mad-Eye Moody’s body parts that were amputated and could never be grown back. Similarly, George Weasley’s ear that got cut off with the Sectumsempra spell and could not be grown back either.

The curse that Dumbledore got from the Gaunt family ring. He could slow it’s spread but not stop it entirely and he could not cure it.

Ominis Gaunt’s blindness

Blood maledictions

The Longbottoms permanently loosing their minds as a result of the Cruciatus Curse

Gilderoy Lockhart having permanent amnesia as a result of a backfired Memory Charm

…and I’m sure we could find many more.

On the other hand, we also of course have examples of spells who can be counteracted. Some longer-acting and self-sustaining spells can be stopped by the caster or another wizard casting a counter-spell (often called counter-curse or counter-jinx). For instance, in year four, Hermione casts a Jelly-Leg jinx on Harry. The Jelly-leg jinx is clearly one of the self-sustaining spells because Harry is said to continue to wobble on his legs for ten minutes while Hermione looks up the counter-jinx to stop it. Once cast, the spell is acting outside of Hermione’s will and intent because she clearly wants to stop the spell but can’t, she has to find and cast the counter-jinx. Petrificus Totalus works similarly because it appears permanent when left alone but can be stopped with a counter-curse.

Most serious and harmful spells called Curse (and usually associated with Dark Magic) are implied to be irreversible and incurable. For instance, both Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley, in response to George’s ear being cut off by the Sectumsempra curse, say, respectively:

"I can’t make it grow back, not when it’s been removed by Dark Magic."

"there’s no chance of replacing his ear, not when it’s been cursed off -"

However we do have examples of spells clearly called ‘curse’ that can be cured. Indeed, the same Sectumsempra Curse that permanently amputated George’s ear was used by Harry to cut Malefoy’s face and chest in book 6 but, in that instance, Snape was able to heal Malefoy’s wounds. (Although it is worth mentioning that the wounds were not easy to heal, Snape had to recite long incantations three times before they closed and, even then, Malefoy had to be taken straight to the hospital wing.) Another example is the character of Eloise Midgen in Book 4 that tried to curse her pimples off. It’s implied that she botched the spell and cut her nose entirely off but Madam Pomfrey was able to heal her. (Albeit, again, with difficulty.)

There are other examples of seriously harmful spells which, on the contrary, are counteracted quite easily. I’m thinking of the spell cast by Gilderoy Lockhart that removed all of Harry’s bones in his harm. A very harmful spell indeed! But Madam Pomfrey was able to re-grow Harry’s bones (thus undoing the initial spell) quite easily with a single potion. (Although the process was long –a whole night– and painful for Harry).

So what’s the difference, then? How come it’s impossible to undo the effects of some spells, while others can be undone with great difficulty and other can be undone quite easily? I think this actually brings us back to our classification for short-lasting/non self-sustaining and longer-lasting/self-sustaining spells. I propose the hypothesis that the spells that cannot be reversed or counter-acted are of the long-lasting, self-sustaining kind. This spell that just cut off your ear? It continues to permanently cut off you ear so you cannot grow it back. Anything that starts to grow back will be cut off again by virtue of the spell that is still active. Whereas spells that can be reversed or fixed or counter-acted easily are short-lasting, their effect has worn off and you can now use a new spell that has a new effect that reverses what the previous spell did (such a re-growing Harry’s bones after Lockhart’s spell was done).

But, you, attentive reader, have surely identified a glaring gap in my theory: I said the Petrificus Totalus curse was long-lasting and self-sustaining but it can be counteracted very easily! My answer to this is that not all long-lasting spells are created equal. Again, we are operating along a continuum here, it’s not black and white and we have already made a distinction between self-sustaining spells that stop with the caster’s death and those that don’t. We know Petrificus Totalus stops if it’s caster dies, however it seems that the effects of the Sectumsempra spell continue even after the caster’s death since George’s ear was still amputated (it never grew back) even after Snape died. This difference between the two spells could explain why one can be counteracted easily while the other can’t.

But, that still does not explain everything. What about the self-sustaining Sectumsempra spell that sometimes has permanent consequences (amputation of George’s ear) and sometimes not (Malefoy’s cut that could be healed)? Well, it seems that the length of exposure to the spell before attempts to counteract it are made are key in this case! I bring forth two new examples: the cursed necklace that Katie Bell touched in book 6 and Neville’s parents that lost their mind as a result of the Cruciatus Curse.

Let’s start with Katie Bell: she touched an opal necklace that bore a deadly curse that had already claimed the lives of 19 muggles. But Katie did not die. According to Dumbledore, Katie survived because she had very minimal physical contact with the necklace (touched it through a tine hole in her gloves) and then was carried quickly to the hospital wing where Snape was able to "prevent a rapid spread of the curse" (still according to Dumbledore’s words). She was then sent to St Mungo’s where she spent many months recovering. So it seems, based on what Dumbledore says, that self-sustaining curses (such as the one on the necklace that had already been cursed for many generations) do take some time to take hold onto a new subject and, presumably, before the curse has fully taken hold, it is possible to counteract it.

I hypothesise that this is also what made it possible for Snape to cure Malefoy’s wounds from the Sectumsempra curse since he arrived on the scene shortly after Harry cast the spell, presumably before the curse had fully taken hold. George was not so fortunate since he was cursed in the middle of an aerial chase scene and could not be seen to straight away.

In the case of Neville’s parents that got hit with a Cruciatus curse, we see what happens with a spell with otherwise no long-term consequences when you are subjected to it for a very long time. After a very long period of exposure, the curse ended up permanently damaging their minds.

And, in Hogwarts Legacy, I personally think that there is indeed no cure for Anne’s curse. Most likely, she got hit by a Dark Magic curse, the self-sustaining kind that endures long after Rookwood was done casting it and long after Rookwood’s death, and whoever found her in that fire was not quick enough to get her to a healer. By that time, the curse had taken hold and it cannot be counteracted anymore.

But there is yet another aspect of some spells left to discuss: spells that cannot be blocked. Some say all Unforgivable spells cannot be blocked (and, correct me if I’m wrong, I think that’s the case in HL where all three Unforgivables break through any shields). I’ve gone back to the scene where Moody explains the curses in Goblet of Fire and, in that scene, he says that only the Killing Curse cannot be blocked (except by physical objects in the spell’s path). Whatever the case, nothing we have discussed so far (a spell being self-sustaining and the length of exposure) can explain instances of ‘un-blockable’ spells. In fact, we have established that the Killing curse is short-lasting and therefore not self-sustaining and the length of exposure is irrelevant when talking about blocking the spell. So there must be something else specific to some spells that make them impossible to block. It could be that these spells are particularly powerful and not just in a way that is proportional to the power of the caster themselves and the force of their concentration and intention, but with an added power inherent to the spell itself. This would make them similar in a way to the self-sustaining spells. The self-sustaining spells depend on a mysterious force to make them endure beyond the caster’s focused intent and Unforgivable Curses (or just the Killing Curse) would depend on a mysterious force to make them more powerful than ‘normal’ spells, beyond the power given to the spell by the force of the caster’s concentration and intention. That’s just a random hypothesis I’m trowing out there. I would need to think about that more. (Also note that the Imperius Curse can be countered since it can be resisted mentally, even of it cannot be blocked by usual protection spells.)

OK, I think we’ve done it! I think we’ve arrived at the end of this long analysis and discussion! Some take-home messages:

I propose a classification of spells according to the duration of their effects: short-lasting spells (e.g., Accio, Wingardium Leviosa, Incendio, Aguamenti) whose effects stop as soon as the caster stops actively casting the spell and long-lasting spells that endure long after the caster has stopped focusing on casting the spell (e.g. Levioso, Arresto Momentum, Petrificus Totalus) and sometimes long after the caster is dead (e.g. Rookwood’s curse, Hogwarts Protection spells).

I further hypothesise that long-lasting spells must be self-sustaining, meaning they draw onto something (we don’t know what yet) that allows the spell to continue working even after the caster stops feeding their will and intention to it

Self-sustaining spells tend to be difficult to counteract and in fact can become impossible to counteract if the object has been exposed to the self-sustaining spell for too long. Although we note some exceptions of self-sustaining spells that can be easily counteracted (e.g. Petrificus Totalus).

I would like to close this lesson with some last considerations: you may have noticed that Dark Magic and Ancient Magic seem to lie at the ‘self-sustaining’ extreme of the continuum. These two classes of Magic seem to produce magical effects that do not fade away but instead endure after being cast, even without the input or participation of the original caster. This is what we will discuss next! So come back next week for the next lesson where we will get into self-sustaining spells and possibly a definition for Dark Magic!

Now, does anyone have any questions? 👩‍🏫

(And in case it isn't clear: I'm just having fun by pretending this is a lesson that I am teaching :) I don't pretend to be an authority on this subject, this is just my personal theory that is not any more valid than the headcanon of any other fan. Everyone is welcome to disagree with me, I'm just being facetious!)

[she-is-ovarit]

Detransitioner news

I have been thinking about detransitioners lately and wanted to compile articles I have been seeing. This will be a longer post and reblogged for part II as I hope to copy and paste brief portions of the articles under each headline.

Law firm for detransitioners opens in Dallas

In all of the controversy around gender transition, there is one group that is persistently marginalized by both the right and left. They are known as detransitioners — people who decide that they want to return to their birth gender, often after receiving years of interventional care, including surgery, to treat their gender dysphoria. Now, the nation’s first law firm focused solely on representing these patients — many of whom feel abused by a medical system that encouraged their treatment — has opened its doors in Dallas. It could forever change how hospitals and doctors approach what’s known as gender-affirming care.

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Fenway Community Health Center in Boston, the largest provider of transgender medicine in New England and one of the leading institutions of its kind in the United States, was named a defendant in a lawsuit filed last month. The plaintiff, a gay man who goes by the alias Shape Shifter, argues that by approving him for hormones and surgeries, Fenway Health subjected him to “gay conversion” practices, in violation of his civil rights. Carlan v. Fenway Community Health Center is the first lawsuit in the United States to argue that “gender-affirming care” can be a form of anti-gay discrimination. The case underscores an important clinical reality: gender dysphoria has multiple developmental pathways, and many who experience it will turn out to be gay. Even the Endocrine Society concedes that many of the youth who outgrow their dysphoria by adolescence later identify as gay or bisexual. Decades of research confirm as much. Gender clinicians in the U.K. used to have a “dark joke . . . that there would be no gay people left at the rate [the Gender Identity Development Service] was going,” former BBC journalist Hannah Barnes reported. Rather than help young gay people to accept their bodies and their sexuality, what if “gender-affirming” clinicians are putting them on a pathway to irreversible harm?

Due partly to Shape’s lifelong difficulty in accepting himself as gay, his lawyers are not taking the usual approach to detransition litigation. Rather than state a straightforward claim of medical malpractice or fraud, they allege that Fenway Health has violated Section 1557 of the Affordable Care Act (ACA), which bans discrimination “on the basis of sex” in health care. In 2020, the Supreme Court ruled in Bostock v. Clayton County that “discrimination because of . . . sex” includes discrimination based on homosexuality. Citing this and other precedents, Shape’s lawyers argue that federal law affords distinct protections to gay men and lesbians—upon which clinics that operate with a transgender bias are trampling. Shape grew up in a Muslim country in Eastern Europe that he describes in an interview as “very traditional” and “homophobic.” His parents disapproved of his effeminate demeanor and interests as a child. They wouldn’t let him play with dolls, and his mother, he says, made him do stretches so that he would grow taller and appear more masculine. At 11, Shape had his first of several sexual encounters with older men. “I was definitely groomed,” he recounts. Shape proceeded to develop a pattern of risky sexual behavior, according to his legal complaint. He told his medical team at Fenway Health about his childhood sexual experiences, calling them “consensual.” The Fenway providers never challenged him on this interpretation, he alleges. They never suggested that he might have experienced sexual trauma or, say, explored how these events might have shaped his feelings of dissociation. (The irony is that Fenway Health describes its model of care as “trauma-informed.”)

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Ontario detransitioner who had breasts and womb removed sues doctors

An Ontario detransitioning woman who had her breasts and womb removed to change her gender to male is suing medical and health practitioners for failing to consider other treatments during her mental health crisis before ushering her on an irreversible journey she regrets. Michelle Zacchigna, 34, of Orillia, Ont., north of Toronto, names eight health professionals, including doctors, psychologists, a psychotherapist and a counsellor in a lawsuit filed in Ottawa. None of the defendants, who work or worked at various clinics and institutions in southern Ontario, responded to requests for comment on the lawsuit prior to deadline. Four of the defendants have filed notices of intent to defend against the suit in Ontario Superior Court, but no statements of defense have been filed. None of the claims have been tested in court. Zacchigna said she faces an uphill battle in her lawsuit. “I’ve been under the impression that all medical malpractice suits are challenging. Doctors win the majority of cases in Canada,” she told National Post. “It’s very much a David vs. Goliath undertaking.” In her statement of claim filed in court in November, Zacchigna says she had difficulty forming relationships with classmates in elementary school and was often bullied. By the time she was 11, she engaged in self-harming behaviour, including cutting her arm with a knife. This continued into early adulthood. When she was 20, she tried to kill herself and she was referred by her family doctor for psychotherapy, where she was treated for social anxiety and clinical depression. She remained unhappy and depressed, and her mental health decline led to her dropping out of university, according to her claim. About a year into therapy, she engaged with an online community around gender nonconformity. “Michelle came to believe that her biological sex of female did not match her true gender identity of male,” her claim says. “She further came to believe that this mismatch between her biological sex and gender identity was causing her feelings of depression, self-harming behaviour and unease in her body, a mental health condition commonly known as gender dysphoria,” her claim states. This was the first time Zacchigna felt she was born in the wrong body, and she had not previously identified as male, her claim says. “However, as a result of what she read on the internet, she became convinced that she was a transgender man, and that once she embraced this new identity, her depression would subside.” Zacchigna started attending a support group in Toronto for people considering gender transition. A counsellor there told her of opportunities to proceed through a medical transition, her claim says. Zacchigna was invited to apply for medical intervention in 2010. The counsellor wrote a recommendation letter outlining a medical history that didn’t fully match her real past, the claim says. The counsellor didn’t recommend any alternatives, or seek confirmation of Zacchigna’s own diagnosis of gender dysphoria. Her regular therapist also wrote a recommendation for transition treatment, saying Zacchigna was an “ideal candidate for hormone therapy,” even though the therapist had no previous transgender clients, according to the claim.

Part II incoming.